Epilogue
EPILOGUE
S olarius skated his teeth along his bottom lip.
At one point, balls and festivals had ranked quite high on his list of favorite things, mostly because of the ladies who attended, with their pretty dresses and simpering smiles. Recently, however, the parties had become a tedious drone of mediocrity. He swore a cloud of doom grew ever closer with each passing event, dampening the gaiety. The impending storm of his own demise.
He kicked his legs out, crossing one ankle over the other as he sat alone, watching the opulent splendor of Embernyte unravel around him.
Perhaps his disdain toward such festivities stemmed from his own roguish behavior. He’d lost count of the number of beds he’d slipped from in the predawn hours after a night of revelry. The faces and names of the females whose company he sought had begun to bleed together like a messy watercolor painting of soft lips and flushed cheeks. He could no longer discern one from the next.
Propping his elbow on the table next to him, he swirled his glass of applefire whiskey and took a hefty swig. Its fruity, spicy flavor coated his tongue, burning the back of his throat.
Or maybe the reason he could no longer stand attending these wretched parties was because his eldest brother had seen fit to marry him off to Lady Narissa Seaborne, the only female in the whole of Aeramere who despised him with every fiber of her being.
Solarius’s scowl deepened.
To be fair, she probably wasn’t the only female who could not stand the ground upon which he walked. There were likely a few who cursed his name, clutching their broken hearts, even though he’d been clear with his promises. Or lack thereof. That being said, Narissa certainly had no qualms about making her sentiments regarding her strong dislike of him widely known.
As if by some divine intervention, Narissa appeared in his line of sight, despite his best efforts to avoid her for the duration of the evening.
One thing Solarius could not deny was her excessive beauty.
If a goddess of the sea were to walk the planes of this world, it would be Narissa Seaborne.
She stood across the crowded ballroom near a cluster of faux gold trees with his sister, Sarelle. Tonight, Narissa wore a gown of sea green, reminding him of the cresting waves along Azurvend’s coast. The satin scooped across her full breasts, skimming her hips, and dipped dangerously low in the back, putting entirely too much of her sun-kissed skin on display. Her golden waves were piled high on her head, the tresses pinned in place by white pearls and crystals of aquamarine. A few pieces of her hair had fallen loose, curling around a rather kissable neck. Pearlescent beaded earrings hung from her ears, and she wore thin golden rings on nearly every finger, some of them were shaped like waves, others were embellished with tiny blue gems.
Solarius found the one she wore on her thumb oddly attractive.
Fucking stars.
He tugged on the collar of his shirt. This ballroom was too warm. Damn near suffocating.
He slammed his empty glass on the table and reached for another, having learned it was best to always have two drinks in hand for such occasions.
Sarelle must have said something amusing, because then Narissa laughed. Her smile illuminated the whole of her face. But it did not reach his ears over the music and conversations floating around him. In truth, he’d long forgotten the sound of it.
“Cheer up, Sol.” Lord Reif Marintide pulled out the chair across from him and dropped into it. His own beverage, a blazing red liquid with gold flames, almost sloshed over the rim. He tipped the drink in Solarius’s direction. “She’s not so terrible. Narissa is positively delightful, so long as you don’t piss her off.”
Solarius shook his head and muttered, “She fucking hates me.”
“And you hate her,” Reif countered, with far too much mirth. The lord of House Azurvend grinned broadly, raking a hand through his windswept hair. He leaned back in his seat, his eyes filled with amusement. “Sounds like a match made by the stars, if you ask me.”
“I’m not asking.” He ran one finger around the rim of his glass, his patience thinning.
“What is it that plagues the two of you with loathing, anyway?” Reif asked, his brows pinching together in thought. “I can hardly remember what set off the years-long quarrel between you both.”
Solarius remembered.
Clearly.
But he had no desire to rehash such memories with Reif. Or anyone, for that matter. “It isn’t worth discussion.”
The corner of Reid’s mouth curved into a knowing smirk. “I heard it was because you were shit in bed.”
Solarius scoffed and his jaw popped, rage filling him at the unbidden memory. “Wouldn’t know, to be honest. Some other noble bastard got his cock inside of her before I got the chance.”
Reif’s face hardened, all traces of humor vanishing. His expression sobered and his gaze turned cold. “Mind your tongue, Lord Solarius. That is my cousin you’re speaking of. Narissa is a lady of House Azurvend, and it will do you well to remember it.”
It was impossible to forget, since he would be marrying her soon enough.
Still, a stab of remorse needled him, and he dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Apologies, my lord. It was not my intent to insult her reputation.”
Reif studied him a few moments longer. Then he stood abruptly, and as he bowed before taking his leave, he said, “Either way, might I kindly suggest you pull your head out of your ass and go ask your betrothed to dance?”
Solarius lifted one brow. Dancing with Narissa would not be on his agenda this evening. “And why would I do that, Lord Marintide?”
“Because I don’t trust Lord Calfair Skyhelm further than I can spit.”
Solarius’s head snapped up, and he jerked upright, scanning the ballroom. Sure enough, Calfair Skyhelm had Narissa cornered by one of the doors leading out into the darkened gardens. His hands were planted on either side of her, pinning her against the wall. If he managed to coax her outside, there was no telling what that prick of a fae would try, and knowing Calfair, he’d succeed.
“Fuck.” Solarius downed the rest of his drink and stood, wincing as the ballroom seemed to tip to one side.
Reif clicked his tongue and slapped him soundly on the back. “Atta boy.”
Solarius stalked toward them, uncaring as he shoved his way across the floor, barging through couples who were mid-dance. The alcohol he’d consumed this eve only served to fuel his frustration, and he rolled his sleeves as he went, preparing for a fight. Though whether his fist would meet Calfair’s smug jaw in a satisfying crunch or he would be forced to endure another verbal sparring match with Narissa, he couldn’t quite be sure.
For Calfair’s sake, he hoped it was the latter.
“Well,” he drawled, glowering at the both of them. “This looks cozy.”
Calfair startled, edging away from Narissa only slightly. He gave Solarius a condemning look. “Ah, Lord Solarius. I did not realize you would be in attendance tonight.”
Solarius rocked back on his heels, running his tongue along his teeth. “So, you figured you would take it upon yourself to corner my future wife?”
“I didn’t see the harm in it, especially since you’d rather spend your time with applefire whiskey. Lady Narissa deserves affection and decent company, both of which I am more than willing to provide.” The damned noble grinned, a silent dare.
“I’m sure.” Solarius grabbed Narissa’s arm and hauled her to his side. “I can assure you, Lord Calfair, she is having a most enjoyable evening. One that will be spent in my arms. Not yours.”
With that, he dragged her out onto the floor of the ballroom.
His hand found the small of her back, and he hated the way the feel of her bare flesh caused his blood to burn. Still, he pulled her close, capturing her other hand as he led her into a dance, ignoring the way she moved so fluidly against him despite the absolute rage reflected in her eyes.
Eyes, he thought, which had always been his undoing.
They were pale green, frosty and cold, but right now they resembled an ocean set on fire.
“I could have handled him on my own.” Her tone was dismissive, and she turned her head away from him, leaving him no choice but to inhale the scent of her.
Exotic florals. Sandalwood. A hint of the sea.
Solarius’s mouth watered, and he gritted his teeth.
“Because you were doing such a good job of it.” He lowered his head so his mouth grazed her ear, and her entire body stiffened in his arms. Her earrings tinkled softly, reminding him of music. “One more minute and he would’ve had you alone in those gardens with his hand beneath your skirts.”
He pulled back just in time to see the rosy gold hue of her cheeks pale.
“Just leave me alone, Solarius.” She attempted to break free, to abandon him in the middle of a dance. A most insufferable offense. “You’re drunk.”
“Mildly intoxicated,” he corrected, and her fiery ocean eyes flew to him once more. “Not in the mood for my company, Rissa love?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“But I enjoy it so much.”
An honest truth.
As far as he knew, he was the only one who ever called her Rissa. It was a nickname he’d given her some years ago, and while she’d been fond of it then, now it only seemed to infuriate her.
Which was another form of pleasure altogether.
“Besides,” he crooned, spinning her away from him, then hauling her back into his arms. “I rather like it when you look at me like that.”
Anger simmered beneath her flawless skin.
“Like what?” she spat.
“Like you want to gouge out my eyeballs with some pointy seashells.”
Narissa flicked her gaze to the gilded leaves falling around them. “I shall be sure to find some and put them to good use. Though there are other means. The beaches of Azurvend have more than sharp seashells as weapons. Syrenshade, for example. They’re deceivingly lovely flowers that grow beneath the light of the moon, and their purple petals contain the most interesting toxin. If you were to crush them with a mortar and pestle and add some fern berries to the mix, then you’d have a perfect poison.”
Stars above, she was brilliant.
Solarius chuckled. “Such a naughty midnight siren you are, crafting toxins born of the sea.”
His comment only incensed her further, and her gaze narrowed.
“I do not want this any more than you do, my lord.”
Of that, he had no doubt. Yet there was something so utterly pleasing about taunting her.
He guided her around the ballroom, the alcohol in his blood emboldening him as he said, “Not looking forward to sharing my bed, my lady?”
Her lashes fluttered back in shock, but she recovered quickly, her nails digging into his shoulder. His cock throbbed in response.
“I do not even care to share the same air as you, my lord.”
He moved deftly, snaking his arm further around her, so the pads of his fingers slipped beneath the silky fabric of her gown, and gripped her bare waist.
Narissa gasped, and he hauled her so close, the tips of their noses almost touched.
“That makes two of us.” His hand dipped lower, grazing her hip, a current of unwanted desire rippling through him as he realized she wore no underthings of satin or lace. His jaw locked, and he ignored the flood of lust coursing through his veins. “Don’t worry, I plan on being thoroughly smashed after we marry. Should make it rather easy to get the necessary deed over with, should it not?”
She reached back to slap him, and he caught her wrist with his free hand, squeezing tightly.
“Your despicable habits will be the end of you,” she hissed.
“Shall I be worried about you poisoning my drink on our wedding night?” he mused, his thumb tracing small circles along the inside of her palm. “You seem rather adept in the art.”
“No.” Narissa smiled, her glossy pink lips drawing his attention. “If your wine was poisoned, I would gladly drink it myself. If only to spare me from ever having to spread my legs for the likes of you.”
Solarius dipped her roughly, hooking one hand beneath her knee, and hiking her leg to his hip. Her eyes widened and she clutched at his arms, as though she truly feared he might drop her. The beaded strap of her gown slipped down her shoulder, revealing the golden curve of her breast. He was half tempted to lower his mouth to her right then, to swipe his tongue along those perfect swells. To make her pay for her transgressions against him.
“Unfortunate for you, then.” His voice was rough with vexation as he stared down at her. “Since I prefer whiskey over wine.”
He yanked her upright as the final note of music carried through the ballroom. To anyone watching, it might appear as though they were a breath away from kissing, her mouth was so close to his own.
But Solarius knew better.
He released her, his hands falling to his side.
Narissa dropped into an elaborate curtsy, piercing him with a look of revulsion that cut straight through him. “My lord.”
He bowed, never taking his eyes off her. “My lady.”
She whirled away from him in a flurry of satin, and Solarius roughed a hand over his face. His future wife would rather drink poison than fuck him.
Lovely.
He stomped back over to the table he’d previously abandoned, his foul mood brewing and souring his stomach. Another glass of applefire whiskey was already there, waiting for him, and he knocked it away with the back of his hand.
Solarius slumped into the empty chair.
Of course Narissa didn’t want him.
No one wanted him.
But fuck if he didn’t want her.