68. Chapter 68
68
Nelle
T here was no way in Nine Hells I was going anywhere with Danne Pellan. He was more of an idiot than I thought if he believed I’d meet him somewhere alone, and listen to his lies.
I reached for a glass of champagne—
It was the merest of twangs, like a spider creeping out of a shadowed nook to crawl across a silken strand of cobweb.
I went instantly alert.
Sitting straighter, my gaze whirled around the gathered guests, until it collided with cunning golden eyes staring right back at me.
Master Sirro.
My heart missed a beat.
His full lips curved into a delighted smile as the tip of his forefinger idly brushed over his neatly trimmed beard.
I inclined my head, reminding myself to coolly smile—polite, yet disinterested.
His smile widened.
Shit, shit, shit.
Corné’s father, Aldert Pellan, stood beside him, his beady eyes gleaming with pride and arrogance as he talked. But the Horned God’s entire focus was on me.
Latching my fingers around the crystal flute, I took a sip, the sparkling liquid tasting sour on my tongue, before turning away to give my mother a mindless, pretty smile.
But I still felt Master Sirro’s gaze gliding all over my body with the stickiness of molasses. Placing the champagne glass back down on the table, I slid it across the crisp linen from hand to hand, while readjusting myself in the chair and trying to ease the feeling of constriction from the dress clinging to my figure like an itchy blanket.
In the corner of my eye, I saw Master Sirro break into movement.
My heart exploded into a racing gait.
Thin threads of magic coiled and weaved through the air like a tumbling squall of dark clouds. The strands of power connected him to his Familiar who trailed a polite distance behind. Might strummed across the space dividing us. Skimming against my flesh. A whispering caress along the shell of my ear. And the heralding darkness roused the creature inside me. The thing began to uncoil from around my bones.
No —I hissed.
It stilled, grumbling its discontent, but it listened, retreating to keep itself hidden.
Master Sirro’s footfall on the stairs to the platform was soft and slow and measured, yet they hammered an almighty death drum in my ears.
The Horned God reached me, ignored my mother, and inclined his head. “Nelle.”
I steeled myself and angled toward him. “Master Sirro,” I replied, my fingers gripping what was left of my bracelet hanging loosely around my wrist.
Light from the giant orbs strung throughout the ceiling of the tent skittered off the Horned God’s deep, coppery skin. He was beautiful and powerful, and I was terrified. A mouse quivering in the shadow of a lion, fearing the beast would scent its presence. He wore a navy pin-striped tuxedo with a bow tie. Dark hair was artfully tousled and pushed back from his brow. Bestowing upon me an admiring smile, his golden eyes darkened to a rich hue of honey as his stare slithered along my jawline, down my throat to linger on the fluttering pulse point, before snapping up to meet my carefully schooled gaze. He raised a hand, palm upward in an offering.
He wanted to take a walk with me. No …that wasn’t right, I realized as he arched a brow and smiled playfully, his eyes sliding pointedly toward the guests dancing on the parquet flooring.
I blinked. “I-I don’t really know how to dance.”
“I’ll let you in on a secret,” he said, leaning closer. A flash of white teeth. “I’m not one for dancing either.”
You didn’t turn down a Horned God.
And what was one dance? I could do that.
I took his hand. His cool fingers wrapped around mine and I rose, the chair squeaking behind me as its feet slid against the wooden platform .
As he led me down the steps, through the throng of guests and banquet tables, heading toward the dance floor, I could feel every single person turn their focus to us, the chatter dulling and becoming more pointed and directed at us—Why had Master Sirro chosen me out of all the daughters in attendance for his attention?
The music flowing from the quartet was a reworking of a modern song. I wasn’t exactly sure which one, and the uplifting melody didn’t match the foreboding gathering inside my chest like black storm clouds on a blue horizon.
Master Sirro’s Familiar remained at the edge of the parquet dance floor. Those life-sucking threads of magic wafted overhead, fastening him to her. I peeked at her from the corner of my eye, and her image shifted from a frail hunch-backed crone to what everyone else who didn’t possess truesight saw—a beautiful young woman with glossy chestnut hair, posture strong and smile radiant.
In a gentlemanly fashion, Master Sirro bowed, then curved his fingers around my waist. I rested my hand on his shoulder, and he led me into a waltz, gracefully guiding us across the dance floor.
It immediately reminded me of last night’s dance with Danne.
All the while, I kept time in my head and my gaze and thoughts half on my footsteps, the rest of me focused on Graysen. Where was he? I needed him now.
Like, right fucking now!
I’d never been this intimately close to a Horned God before.
Power radiated from Master Sirro. So much power. It buffered about me as if I stood in the heart of a storm. Silvery-misty threads swayed around his figure like drifting seaweed, reaching for me. They weaved about my body, stroking my skin, slinking through my hair, tasting me, trying to feel me out. As much as my senses sang, wrong, wrong, wrong , it was enticing and intoxicating. Perhaps the steady rhythm of the song helped that power drag me under its bewitching spell, and I felt light-headed and disoriented under its touch. I craved that power and might.
The creature stirred and gave a faint mewl behind the shield.
Master Sirro smiled. “Rather an interesting turn of events.”
It was a rousing cold splash of water against my face, slapping me sober.
I tilted my head, my brows inching together, not understanding what he was referring to. At first, I thought he was talking about the temple. About Elyse and her parents. An image flashed through my mind of the Horned God dabbing at a blood-speckled cheek with a crisp white handkerchief, and revulsion sickened my gut .
His fingers tightened against my waist. “I watched you enter the marquee behind Crowther. You couldn’t take your eyes off him.”
I blinked.
How long has he been watching me?
When he bent his head closer, there was the faintest trace of decay on his breath. “Even if I couldn’t smell his scent all over you. That smile gave you away. Glorious. It’s the sated smile of a well-bedded woman.” His lips whispered against my temple as he leaned in even closer. “I’d hoped you’d warm mine. But I suppose…there’s a little bit of time left before he claims you on your twentieth birthday.”
It was an effort to keep that vacant smile on my face. Dread sank its fangs into my flesh and a chilling ripple of fear slid down my spine.
Will he ask or will he force me to?
He suddenly stopped our motion. The abruptness almost had me stumbling into him, and my skirt swirled against my calves. The other dancers moved around us, casting curious glances. I didn’t know what to do or where to look.
He stared intently at me, and his thoughts weren’t hidden. They blazed like neon lights with desire and heat. To be the object of his lust had ice forming in my veins.
Raising a hand from my waist, he gently scraped one fingernail down the length of my neck. The threatening touch of it set my heart slamming against my ribs. “You’ve grown into quite the beauty. Not in the classical sense, but striking nevertheless. There’s something wild and untamed about you that’s driving me to distraction. Much like the child I’d come to see all those years ago… And now you’re all grown up.”
I suppressed the urge to shudder.
But it was the way he’d said it that had me asking, “You came to see me?”
“I suspected your father never told you. I’d been,” he arched one brow, “ requested to meet with you.”
I shook my head, frowning. I’d never had a meeting with Master Sirro. He was part of our life as Great House, as the orders issued from the Horned Gods were conveyed through him. I’d met him throughout the years, but there was always an excuse to keep the interaction short—bustled away because I was late for my lesson with our governess, or my mother was taking me and my sisters out on a rare excursion from the estate. Sometimes I was even sprinting out the door on my way to spend my day rambling in the woods, and barely gave him a wave of greeting .
“There you were, sprawled upon a chaise in the family room, slumbering deeply. The curtains were wide open, and you basked in the moonlight, looking so much younger than your age. Tiny with a mass of unruly blonde hair.” He chuckled. “There were even small leaves snarled within the locks.”
Shock jolted through me.
There was something he was interested in…or…interested in me learning.
I wet my bottom lip with my tongue. “And what age was that?”
“Seven.”
The age was a thunderous boom inside my mind. It deafened every other thought.
“Seven?”
“Mhmm.”
He’s playing with me, toying with me.
The age purposely dropped.
“It was a volatile time back then. We were weeding out others amongst the families. There were a lot of rumors and finger-pointing between the Houses. Betrayals even within families. Imagine,” his lips widened into a sly smile, “Great House Wychthorn harboring an other .”
“Obviously, you found nothing other about me.”
His smile broadened into a grin. Light glinted off his sharp white teeth. “Obviously.”
Or had he?
But that made no sense. A Horned God hiding an other .
Seven… The number… The age spun around in my head.
Seven years old, almost eight — Graysen had just turned thirteen.
Locked in a tithe prison—his back scarred by the whip.
His mother… His mother had been killed by the Horned Gods.
It was me. I was connected to it all.
The fragments of all those jigsaw pieces whirled inside my mind, slotting into one another, a vague picture beginning to form, and just as I caught a glimpse, Master Sirro set us back into motion. He led us in a series of turns, disorienting my thoughts. As we danced toward the string quartet, he murmured, “I was curious as to what the Crowthers would do with the Boon.”
I’d never known exactly what they’d done to deserve the right to ask for any daughter’s hand in marriage. A secret my father held onto tightly.
“What did they do to earn the Alverac?”
“They saved the life of a Horned God. ”
And that surprised me, that the Horned Gods were fallible. But our existence, the collection of Houses who acted as servants and warlords, an army bred to protect them with our lives, surely proved that.
Now was not the time to think about it further, so I tucked it away to dwell on later.
“And what did you believe they were going to do with the Boon?” I glanced toward the entrance of the marquee, hoping I’d find Graysen there. Hoping he’d find some way to extricate me from this situation.
Master Sirro’s fingers flexed on my waist. “Oh, they did exactly what I thought they might. They claimed you. Not Annalise, despite the fact they could have overturned her promise to House Reska and claimed her. Evelene was the right age and quite the beauty. But, no, they chose you .”
When those words were spoken, my wide-eyed gaze snapped back to his.
He laughed, a delighted, amused sound, refined like his speaking voice. “What I did find fascinating was Graysen being chosen for the Alverac.” His deft footwork guided us into a turn.
I frowned. “Why wouldn’t Graysen be chosen for the marriage contract?”
The amber hue of his eyes gleamed like sunlight striking off glass. “Well, on the rare occasion an Alverac has been bestowed, yes, that’s what it’s used as. Simply a way to earn a bride or groom normally out of reach or interest. But, I’m one of the few who have seen the Alverac, Nelle. You signed in blood.”
My heart exploded into an even faster pace.
But…what was he inferring? What changed the Alverac from a marriage contract to something else with the choice of ink to blood? My own blood to be exact.
He gave me a pitying look and clicked his tongue. “I didn’t think you knew.” My mouth went dry and every sense was honed in on what he wasn’t saying. “I expect your father didn’t want to worry you.”
I’d felt that lock turning over as soon as I’d signed my name in blood. The finality of it on the last stroke of my quill, as scarlet soaked into the parchment and the bones of my ancestors, ground to dust, settled over my signature. The Horned Gods’ magic. The filament of it threaded through my very being and tied me to Graysen.
So if it’s not a marriage contract, what else could it be?
Better yet, what right did it give Graysen over me?
“As for the rest of the Houses…” He glanced about the room as we danced along the edge of the parquet flooring. Most of the people here either stared blatantly back at us or tried not to appear as if they were. “None of them know exactly wh at the Alverac is.” His gaze briefly turned faraway in thought. “Such new, young Houses,” he muttered, looking intently at Aldert Pellan with his family clustered around him. They were the youngest of the Houses. And compared to the other families, like the Qillisans, who were much, much older, despite my family holding the mantle of Great House since the sixteenth century, we were a young House too.
Master Sirro shook himself free from whatever had ensnared his mind. His sharpened gaze returned to mine. “I don’t think many others here would understand the significance of the Alverac. But the Crowthers are an ancient family…as ancient as the Horned Gods. The only surviving House from before the Final War. Your father, because of his position, of course, knew the truth of the Alverac.”
Everything, everything surrounding me, the quartet plucking and sawing at their strings, the whirl of flesh and fabric and footfall from dancers, the murmuring and laughter, the chink of crystal and silver…all fell away. All that rushed in my ears was the frantic ricochet of my heart.
The dread pulling at me like a weight, dragged me down, down, down.
I closed my eyes, barely breathing out, “What is it?”
“It’s an ancient agreement between two people. I think it’s best you ask your parents what it is exactly.” I opened my eyes and his gaze scrutinized my own. “Not even a Horned God can overturn the Alverac. But there are ways to bend it… Crowther walking into a situation that not even someone like him could walk out of…alive.” He smiled and though it appeared warm and friendly, it sent a flood of fear washing through me. “And that could be arranged, if you simply ask.”
Master Sirro’s smooth fingers squeezed around my hand, while his other hand, curved about my waist, gently urged me into a tight spin as we changed directions again. My skirt flared from the movement, my hair swept over my shoulder to cascade down my back as we carried on dancing to the music.
I swallowed, knowing the answer, but still needing to ask. “There’d be a price to pay?”
The Horned God stopped us dancing once more. We stood in the middle of the floor while the elders spun and glided around.
“There always is.” His hand left my waist to cup my chin and tilt my face upward. Unbridled hunger shone in his eyes. I could practically feel him running his tongue over sharp teeth, licking his lips. “But I assure you, I’d make sure it was something you’d enjoy, something we’d both enjoy,” he purred.
Sex. That’s what he wanted from me. The price I’d pay—joining his harem.
Great white-tipped waves of nausea crashed over me, pushing me under .
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think past the fear of what I’d signed. I let go of him, one hand pressing against my middle, the other clasped the base of my neck, as an acrid liquid burned up my throat. My lips quivered. “If you’ll excuse me…I-I’m not feeling very well.”
He hesitated a moment, his fingers curling a little tighter on my chin before he reluctantly released me. His hand dropped to his side as he politely inclined his head.
I backed away, stumbling as ice-kissed terror raked its talons across my skin.
Master Sirro’s posture relaxed as he tucked his hand into the pocket of his pants. His tone was casual, but there was slyness gleaming in his golden eyes. “All you have to do is simply ask, anytime you seek freedom. But I’d do it soon, Nelle. In just a few weeks…” I’d turn twenty and it would be too late. “There’s no escape from the Alverac once it’s invoked.”
The words clanged in my mind.
My skirt flared as I spun in my parents’ direction. Both of them sat, side by side, behind the long white table on the raised platform, overseeing their court like we’d done centuries ago inside castles and fortresses.
I couldn’t hide the panic that had twined itself around me, digging into my flesh with hooked thorns.
My father rose. My mother too.
They wouldn’t have overheard what I’d spoken to Master Sirro about, but they’d be able to read the sickly paleness of my skin, the eyes wide and shining with fright.
I rubbed my clammy forehead with a shaking hand. The adamere beads jangled against one another, their sound much like a discordant peal of bells.
Gods, what did I agree to?
I turned in a whirl of silk and terror and fled. Everyone parted before me like a retreating wave. Their faces blended into the background and became fleeting glimpses of people I recognized as I darted toward the entrance of the marquee.
I needed to find that gods’ forsaken parchment and find out exactly what I’d signed.