38. Gemini
38
GEMINI
V eil sits in the town car, facing me, and I study her for any signs of nerves as the vehicle slows to a stop in front of Aleksandr’s estate. Today was Mercy and Wolfgang’s wedding. The ceremony was near Mount Pravitia, but Aleksandr generously offered his property for the reception.
Is it generosity when his god feeds off the excess of a day such as this?
Veil’s pale blue gown appears iridescent in this light, the golden rays of the setting sun dancing across her tattooed skin as she peers out from the car window.
Her ravishing face is devoid of nerves. Quite the contrary. And how proud I was of her when we first arrived at the ceremony. She commanded attention and knew her place among us, demanding the space.
“A return to where it all started,” I say softly, my attention still steadfastly locked on Veil.
She startles ever so slightly, as if pulled out of a daydream, before turning her gaze to me. Her small, knowing smile tells me she remembers me saying those exact words the last time we came to Aleksandr’s estate over a month ago.
“I’ll have you on a leash next bacchanal,” she answers teasingly.
I purse my lips in tickled amusement. “Promise?” I purr.
Veil’s laugh floats up between us, and I wish I could reach out and pluck it out of thin air so as to keep it forever.
The driver opens the car door, and I climb out before offering my hand to Veil.
“Ready?” I ask into her hair after she gracefully steps out, giving her a quick kiss above her ear.
“The daunting part has already passed — don’t you think?” she says assuredly.
I know she’s referring to the swarm of paparazzi outside the ceremony hall, marking today as her official induction into the ruling families. By tomorrow, the city of Pravitia will be abuzz with the news. Of course, Wolfgang will be carefully pulling the strings of the narrative from behind the scenes.
Veil grins as she pulls me onto the path leading up to the entrance, brown eyes twinkling. “Now let’s have some fun.”
“Where’s your husband?”
I plop down beside Mercy on the long bench outside, facing the backyard, the maze looming majestically beyond it.
For the reception, she changed out of her extravagant wedding dress into something more classic. She’s the picture of elegance in her slinky black dress, the slit up her left thigh framing the dagger and harness she can’t live without.
There’s no one out here but us, and I can tell her guard is down by the shy smile she gives me and her idle toying with the pendant around her neck. I even catch the subtle flush across her cheeks at the word husband .
“I’m not his keeper,” Mercy answers haughtily, taking a long drag of her clove cigarette as she peers up at the stars.
I stretch my legs out in front of me, crossing one ankle over the other, and clasp my hands behind my head, leaning on the back of the bench. “Could have fooled me,” I mutter, my gaze now on the night sky.
There’s a long silence until we both burst out laughing. And the sound of her laughter is both a shock and an absolute delight.
“You’ve changed, love,” I say with a pleased sigh.
She turns to look at me, her green eyes piercing. “Don’t remind me.”
I study her some more as she takes another drag of her cigarette, her wine-red lipstick staining the filter.
“Are you happy?” I ask.
She scoffs, as if dismissing the very notion of my question. “Happiness, such a banal emotion.” She pauses. The sounds of the festivities inside are muted but still boisterous. Then, reluctantly, she adds, “Yes.”
I choke on a laugh at her admission. She’s softened since falling in love. There would be hell to pay if I dared to say it out loud, so I sit with the feeling on my own, beaming up at the starry night.
“And what about you?”
“I’m always happy, love,” I respond with a grin.
She slaps my arm, and a chuckle rumbles in my chest. “Don’t be facetious; you know I’m talking about the girl.”
“The girl ,” I say as I straighten up on the bench, “is a servant just like us, Mercy, and she deserves your respect.”
She purses her lips, but doesn’t argue. Her eyes narrow, as if studying me, before she turns to stub her clove cigarette in the ashtray beside the bench.
“You love her,” she states. It’s not a question.
I drag my hand over my face as I look up at the night sky, then back down at Mercy. “Love is so banal,” I tease, echoing her earlier statement.
“Then what?” she responds, her expression impassive.
I smile ruefully, letting the silence linger before speaking. “Veil and I, we are fate’s favorite ballad.”
Mercy shakes her head softly, a hint of a smile lifting her upper lip. “Careful — you’re starting to sound as vain as Wolfgang.”
I laugh playfully. “Maybe your husband is onto something.”
She smiles wistfully, crossing her arms against the night’s chill. “I …” Her smile drops. “I wish I hadn’t been the last to know about this,” she says tentatively. “About Veil.”
I’m surprised to find so much vulnerability in her voice. “As a friend?” I ask. “Or as the ruler of our dear city?”
She avoids my questioning gaze when she answers, her voice close to a whisper, “As a friend.”
I have the urge to laugh, to dissipate the rising tension between us. Instead, I slide closer to her on the bench and press a kiss on the top of her hand.
“You were too busy falling in love,” I say.
She lets out an offended tsk and rips her hand out of my grasp. I chuckle but quickly grab her arm before she moves to stand up, most likely to storm off in a huff.
“Would a secret appease you?” I ask conspiratorially.
She regards me with suspicion, her arm still in my grip, and I can tell she’s debating saying no just to spite me. But I know Mercy, and there’s nothing she loves more than a secret.
“Yes.” She elongates the word for extra emphasis.
I grin and release her. Pinning her with my stare, I tongue my cheek before speaking, just to make her squirm. “I had Belladonna lift the fertility barrier. Soon, Veil will be carrying my heir.”
Her eyebrows lift in surprise, but her eyes immediately narrow, as if she’s trying to decipher what part exactly is the secret. “Veil doesn’t know,” she finally says.
I push out a pleased chuckle and nod.
But Mercy doesn’t smile back.
“Silly boy,” she says, and her reprimanding tone startles me. “Veil is not just another one of your paramours. She is a servant, just like you, remember?”
“And?” I say petulantly.
She stands up, smoothing out her dress before answering. Her dark green eyes are steadfast. “She will make you pay for this, Gemini.”
My smile is arrogant. “I’m planning on it.”