9. Maldenis
Maldenis
Even by basilisk standards, the party was excessive.
Maldenis stood at the edge of the grand reception hall and slowly took it all in.
The cavernous chamber had been transformed into something between a royal court and a festival.
Long tables overflowed with food, roasted beasts glazed in honey and spice, platters of jeweled fruits, towers of pastries dusted with shimmering sugar.
Servers moved constantly through the crowd carrying trays of glowing drinks while musicians played from a raised stone platform, their instruments weaving a low, hypnotic rhythm through the air. Above it all hung enormous banners.
Not banners, he realized after a second glance, but portraits.
The photographers from the day before had worked quickly.
Massive prints from the shoot had been suspended between the columns: Him and Liora standing against the runed terrace backdrop, another of them laughing on the brighter spring set, and—ancestors help him—a very large one of them kissing right in the center of the hall.
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.
Of course, the elders would do that since subtlety had never been their strength.
The room buzzed with monsters of every kind, basilisks mostly, though he spotted a few lamias, a couple of cyclopes, even a pair of harpies perched along one balcony rail watching the festivities with keen interest. Performers drifted through the crowd as well: fire dancers sending sparks spinning through the air, illusionists creating brief shimmering creatures that dissolved into smoke.
It was exactly the kind of spectacle the elders loved. A celebration meant to show the strength of their kind, and, more importantly, that his family’s honor had been restored.
He should have felt relieved; instead, his attention kept drifting to the human beside him.
Liora stood just to his right, dressed now in something darker and sharper than the airy outfits from the photo shoot, something that suited her far better, in his opinion.
The stylists had worked their magic again: her hair fell in thick waves down her back, her makeup subtle but striking, her piercings still in place despite the elder’s earlier objections.
She looked…good.
The moment she’d arrived earlier that evening, she’d complained, immediately, about the hours it had taken for the stylists to get her ready.
“I swear,” she’d muttered to him while someone adjusted the fall of her sleeve, “if one more monster touches my hair I’m shaving it off.”
Now she stood, a polite smile carefully fixed on her face, as various elders and relatives drifted past to greet them. But he could tell that the smile was plastered on. Her shoulders were just a little too stiff. Her eyes kept scanning the room like she was calculating escape routes.
She was uncomfortable. And the strange thing was…he understood why. This wasn’t her world. Not the politics, not the expectations, not the way half the room watched them like they were the centerpiece of some elaborate performance.
He lifted his drink and took a slow sip, trying not to make it obvious that he was watching her. It didn’t work.
Liora glanced sideways at him. “What?” she muttered under her breath.
He shrugged casually. “Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m observing.”
“That’s worse.”
A small smirk tugged at his mouth.
For all the chaos this marriage had caused, his family’s honor hanging by a thread, the elders breathing down his neck, the entire basilisk community watching them, he had to admit one thing. So far, being married wasn’t boring.
He took another slow sip of his drink and glanced around the room again. The music had shifted to something grander. Two fire dancers spun near the center of the hall while a cluster of elders watched from their seats like judges presiding over a trial.
Then his eyes drifted up again, right to the enormous portrait of him and Liora kissing. He snorted quietly.
Liora noticed immediately. “What?” she said under her breath, not even turning her head.
He tipped his glass upward slightly. “Look up.”
She followed his gaze, and her shoulders stiffened. “Oh, absolutely not.”
“There we are,” he said lightly. “Immortalized.”
“That is enormous.”
“They wanted something tasteful.”
“That’s not tasteful,” she muttered. “That’s propaganda.”
Maldenis chuckled.
She kept staring at it. “Why is it that one?” she asked.
“Because we look convincing,” he found himself thinking about the kiss, how, even with the cameras and the photographer prompting them, it hadn’t felt staged in the moment, just unexpectedly real.
“We were convincing because you ambushed me.”
“You literally said ‘here we go’ before kissing me.”
“That was sarcasm.”
“The camera didn’t pick up sarcasm.” He shrugged.
She rolled her eyes. “I cannot believe this is my life now.”
He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice. “Look on the bright side.”
She gave him a suspicious glance. “There is no bright side.”
“You’re currently the most famous human in basilisk society.”
“That’s not comforting.”
He gestured subtly toward the crowd. “Half the room is pretending not to stare at you.”
“Oh, good,” she said flatly. “Lucky me.”
“Someone over there just knocked over a tray because they were staring.” He glanced to his right, where a young basilisk was hurriedly apologizing to a server.
“See?” He grinned. “Influence.”
She huffed a quiet laugh. “This is ridiculous.”
“Agreed.”
“You know what the worst part is?” She crossed her arms slightly, still scanning the room.
“What?”
“I feel like we’re on display.”
He considered that and then leaned closer again. “We are.”
“That was not helpful.” She glared at him.
“But look at it this way.” He nodded toward the room again. “It’s not just you.”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
He lifted his glass toward the massive portrait behind them. “Congratulations,” he said casually. “We’re both part of the exhibit.”
For a second, she stared at him. Then she snorted. “Great,” she muttered. “We’re a museum installation.”
“Exactly.”
“What would the plaque say?”
He pretended to think about it. “‘Rare example of accidental interspecies marriage.’”
She laughed under her breath. “‘Handle with caution.’”
“‘Prone to biting.’”
“That’s you,” she said.
He grinned. “See?” he said quietly. “Now it’s us against the whole room.”
She glanced around again at the staring guests, the towering photos, the watchful elders. Then she leaned slightly closer to him. “Good,” she murmured. “Because I might start breaking things if this goes on much longer.”
His grin widened. “Please wait until after dessert,” he said. “The cake looks expensive.”
Liora followed his gaze to the enormous, multi-tiered cake at the center of the room, decorated with intricate sugar serpents winding around its layers.
She studied it for a moment, then she said, “You know what?”
“What?”
“I give you full permission to destroy the cake.”
Maldenis blinked.
She shrugged lightly. “Wouldn’t want to encroach on your dramatics.”
He barked out a laugh before he could stop himself, and after a second, she joined him.
Their laughter was still fading when he noticed a familiar figure gliding through the crowd toward them. Seraphelle moved with quiet authority, guests subtly parting to let her through. Her sharp golden gaze already fixed on them, or more specifically on Liora.
He followed her line of sight and immediately knew what she was looking at: the piercings. The small silver ring in Liora’s nose and the one on her brow. For a moment, Seraphelle simply studied them.
He braced himself, but to his surprise, the elder said nothing. Not a word. Just a small inhale, like someone choosing their battles.
He hid his relief behind a polite expression and casually reached over and took Liora’s hand. The gesture looked natural enough to anyone watching, maybe even affectionate. But when Liora glanced at him, he pulled a quick, exaggerated face. A silent, don’t say anything.
Her eyes flickered with understanding. Then, perfectly on cue, she pasted on that polite smile again.
Seraphelle reached them. “Maldenis,” she greeted calmly.
“Elder.”
Her gaze shifted to the human beside him. “And Liora.”
Liora inclined her head slightly. “Seraphelle.”
The elder nodded, satisfied. Then she gestured lightly toward the far side of the hall, where a raised platform had been set up.
“We’re ready to begin the program,” she said. “You’ll need to come with me.”
Maldenis nodded automatically and started to move. But his hand was still holding Liora’s, and she didn’t budge. She was staring toward the stage as if it might explode.
He leaned down slightly, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “Come on,” he murmured.
She didn’t look at him. “I feel like this is where things get worse.”
“Probably,” he said honestly.
That made her shoot him a look.
Then he added quietly, “But the sooner we do this…” He gave her hand a small tug. “…the sooner we can get away.” He was glad when she finally moved.
Maldenis had thought the party itself was excessive, but he had been wrong.
Once Seraphelle led them to the raised platform, the evening turned into something else entirely, something that felt less like a celebration and more like a ceremony mixed with a public spectacle.
He stood beside Liora while an elder slid forward, robes sweeping dramatically behind him.
The basilisk cleared his throat and lifted his voice, so it carried through the hall. “Tonight, we celebrate not only a union,” the elder proclaimed, “but a blessing upon our kind.”
Maldenis kept his expression neutral. Beside him, Liora had gone still again.
“The sacred spring has chosen,” the elder continued. “And such a union is rare in our history. We honor the couple whose bond was formed under the blessing of the waters.”
Maldenis resisted the urge to rub his temples. Blessing. That was one word for it.