Chapter 33 Devora
Devora
My heels clicked against stone as I walked up to the double doors of Scarven’s manor.
Everett had left once we exited the carriage, heading for the servants’ entrance to create his illusion and get inside.
Seeing the mansion again made nerves flutter in my stomach.
Unease slid down my spine, pooling in my core.
Two guards with metal lion masks were stationed on either side of the entrance. They turned to face me when I approached.
I cleared my throat. “My name is Selena Nyte. Lord Scarven requested my presence.”
Their heads tilted as those creepy masks moved up and down my body, assessing me.
Tessa had put me in a black velvet dress that hung to my calves, with a small slit up the leg.
The thin straps at my shoulders led to a ruched top that easily concealed the small, magical parchment Silas had given me.
My cloak swung at my feet as the guards held the door open, and I strode inside.
Another guard was waiting for me. “Miss Nyte,” he said, his voice muffled by the same lion mask as the others. “May I take your cloak?”
I shrugged it from my shoulders, and he took it, then led me down the vast corridor.
We walked past the staircase to the same ballroom from the night before.
I tried to keep track of all the turns we made, repeating them in my mind so I could jot them down on the paper the first chance I got.
Past the ballroom, left, right at the statue of the headless man, second right, left after the wooden door, straight under the arch, down the stairs.
I heard the music before we reached the bottom step. It was different from the ball last night. This was slow and erotic, a rich, steady drumbeat that mimicked my pulse as a hallway came into view.
The long corridor was lit with torches and flanked by several stone archways leading to smaller rooms. Thick, sheer curtains draped over the arches separating the rooms, partially blocking whatever rested behind.
But as the guard led me down, I caught flashes of what was inside.
Some rooms brimmed with partygoers gathered around tables, rattling dice and excited cheers ringing out.
In others, silhouettes lounged on couches, whispered conversations tangling with a low drumroll.
In still another, servants fed grapes to half-shifted animal forms. One servant raised a chalice to a half human, half tiger, and red liquid that looked disturbingly like blood dripped from the corners of their mouth.
So, it was that kind of party.
I had no idea what Scarven had planned for tonight.
I didn’t know what he would expect me to do.
With the Order, I acted like it was simply another part of the mission, but the thought of being alone with him in any capacity made my skin crawl.
I was playing a whole different kind of game here, where one false step would have me locked away for good.
Or worse.
Shadows flashed at my fingertips, responding to my heightened fear, and I took a deep breath to steady my pulse.
I had to remind myself why I was here. What the end goal was.
How many people we’d be saving. Slowly, my magic calmed, staying tucked beneath my skin but wrapping over my heart like a blanket.
I twisted a strand of hair around my finger as I entered the main gathering room.
Couches were scattered throughout the space, with lacy fabrics tossed across them.
On the back wall were tables sagging under the weight of an enormous feast. Roasted boars smothered in honey, mountains of fruits oozing their sugary syrup, wheels of cheeses, buttered breads, and tureens of candied nuts.
Every person in attendance wore masks bearing different animal faces.
Everywhere I turned, I was met with tigers, snakes, wolves, and more dancing as they stuffed their faces with food.
Other patrons watched from the couches. Some of the dancers had partially shifted, with tails that slunk along the ground, flicking back and forth.
The entire space overflowed with gluttony and indulgence, but instead of wanting to partake, it sent a shiver of discomfort down my spine.
My eyes snagged on a server in the far corner, next to a potted tree. Light pink fabric was draped over her large chest, crossing in the center and twisting down her body. She pulled off her mask to catch my attention, and mouthed “It’s me,” when my eyes met hers.
Everett.
I pinched my lips together to keep from laughing. Making sure nobody was watching, I mouthed back, “Nice legs.”
He scowled before replacing his mask. When I saw the animal he’d been given, I almost choked. Staring back at me was a goat, with little horns sticking out from his head and everything.
My hand twitched toward the magic parchment in my dress. My first instinct was to jot down a joke for Nox to commemorate this moment, but a voice at my back made me school my features.
“Miss Nyte,” someone said, and I turned to find myself face-to-face with a fox mask. My heart picked up speed, my breath catching for a split second as I remembered Clarissa.
“For you,” the servant said, holding out a black mask lined with silver.
I lifted the mask to get a better look in the torchlight.
It was a panther. The material was lightweight and had a soft fabric on the underside.
Delicate, feline ears rested on the top, leading down to the panther’s nose.
I carefully raised it to my face and tied it off at the back of my head.
The small holes for my eyes severely limited my scope of sight, which I thought might be the point.
One of the dancers and a patron slid by me, heading toward the games and gambling room. I took a few steps backward to avoid them, and when I looked to the side, I saw a hallway obscured by more potted trees.
I glanced around the room. Scarven was still nowhere in sight. After wandering to the drinks, I grabbed one and took a sip, casually leaning against the wall until it was apparent nobody cared who or what I was doing.
Finally, a mission where my unhealthy desire to get into places I wasn’t allowed actually paid off.
I slid down the unattended hallway. It was a relief to get away from the fog of perfume. That mixed with the constant music had made my head pound. I took a deep breath of clean air as my shoulders sagged.
I was in a narrow corridor, with several closed doors on each side of the hall. I looked over my shoulder, then reached for the handle on the nearest door. Unsurprisingly, it was locked.
Now was as good of an opportunity as ever to make note of my findings.
I carefully pulled the enchanted parchment from my dress, along with a small piece of charcoal.
Ensuring nobody was coming down the hall, I propped the parchment against the closest door and sketched a crude drawing of a map.
I drew lines from the entrance to the mansion as best as I could to show the path leading down here.
I wasn’t sure if it would be important, but considering a private guard had escorted me, Scarven obviously didn’t want this place open to the public.
When I finished, I waited several seconds for something to happen. Was I supposed to do something? Say a magic spell?
But a moment later, the drawing faded into the weathered parchment. I blinked twice, once again in awe of these Alchemists and their powers.
I started to fold it back into its tiny square when something burned my hand. “Ouch,” I muttered. The paper had a strange yellow glow. When I turned it over, four words stared back at me.
Quite the artist, darling.
That had definitely not been there before.
I grinned. I could practically hear Nox’s insufferable yet charming drawl. I bit down on my bottom lip as I glanced toward the entrance of the hallway again, then wrote:
If only I could draw Everett in this outfit of his. There’s not much left to the imagination.
I barely had time to look away before his response materialized.
Such a tease.
I smirked and put the charcoal back to the parchment.
Me, or him?
The words faded. I stared at the page for a moment longer than I should have, waiting for words that never came.
Embarrassment rose to the surface. What was I doing? Nox may be fun and quick-witted with his other friends, but we weren’t like that. He was all business with me. Business mixed with a bit of trouble, something dark and sharp that kept drawing us together and pushing us away at the same time.
I knew he was still having nightmares. My shadows kept waking me from my sleep, summoning me to him with whispers of his cries. But he wouldn’t answer the door. Not that I blamed him—who was I to think I could barge in and solve his problems? Or that he would even want me to?
I wasn’t sure why I cared, except the memory of him thrashing in his sleep that night in the tent played when I closed my eyes.
He was a prisoner to whatever demons plagued his mind.
I wanted to help him. But I knew when to take a hint, and he obviously didn’t need me beyond the scope of my mission for the Order.
I shoved the parchment and charcoal back down the top of my dress, then spotted a series of portraits along the walls. Large oil paintings with ornate gold frames, each depicting scenes of battle. Human against human, animal against animal, humans against animal, all in various gruesome fights.
At the very end of the hall, however, were two matching portraits, the largest paintings of all.
The one on the left showed two lions, one a vibrant golden color and the other a slightly darker, bronzed gold with a streak of white going down its side.
Their throats were locked in each other’s jaws while their paws wrapped over their shoulders, almost in a morbid embrace. And the portrait on the right—
The golden lion’s head was clutched in the jaws of the darker one, ripped clean from its body.
The inscription at the bottom read “The Challenging.”