Chapter 37
Belle
The table shuddered violently. I jolted awake, my chair kicking out as I toppled backward with a scream.
Strong arms caught me, and I immediately recognized the warmth of them. Valen.
“I didn’t give you permission to sleep in here,” the king rumbled as he set me upright, the low growl in his voice unable to mask the undercurrent of amusement.
I looked around, bleary-eyed. Early morning light poured in from the windows.
It had been two days since the king had given me access to the library, and I’d set to work at once, cataloging the shelves, skimming volumes, and hunting for anything about curses or beasts. At some point, I’d drifted off.
I glared at the king. “Why the hell did you do that? A gentle nudge would have sufficed.”
“It wouldn’t have been nearly as amusing.” His arms were crossed over his broad chest, and his lips pulled into a wicked grin. “Besides, you were comatose. Your snoring was loud enough to wake authors long dead.”
“I don’t snore,” I shot back, glancing down at the unfortunate book that had served as my pillow. A damp patch smeared the page. Mortification burned through me, and I wiped my cheek with my hand. “What do you want?”
“Tonight.”
I stared blankly at him. “Tonight what?”
The king smirked, then raised an eyebrow. “Have you forgotten our deal so quickly?”
My breath caught. The revel. And the black dress. In my excitement over the library, I’d completely forgotten.
“I didn’t forget,” I said, casually closing the book on the off chance he hadn’t noticed the patch of moisture. “I just didn’t expect you to call in the favor so quickly.”
A rather skeptical grunt escaped his throat as he crossed to the door. “Seven o’clock, and don’t be late.”
Twelve hours later, I stood beside the king, trying not to look down at the goblet of crimson blood clenched in my hand.
Nausea twisted my stomach, and I breathed in through my mouth, keeping my gaze ahead.
I was no longer a distant observer, watching the revel from my hidden corner, but trapped in its midst.
So much blood. So much skin. So much…sex.
Minstrels leaned into their instruments, the strings vibrating in a low sultry dance.
The spinning couples came together in defiance of all custom and order—high ladies dancing with courtesans, lords with their blood retainers.
They whirled in a riot of colors and fabrics, the women wearing low-cut gowns and diaphanous skirts that caught the air around them, revealing scandalous lengths of bare skin.
Those not on the dance floor lurked in the shadows, drinking deeply from blood retainers and courtesans, their embraces unrestrained and heedless of station or gender.
I’d never been so out of place in my life.
The king’s dais dominated the far end of the room, and I stood below him on display for all to see.
The black dress I’d agreed to wear was the opposite of the elaborate flowing gowns the immortals wore, sleek instead, without extra skirts, and leaving no curve of my body to the imagination.
The bodice was soft velvet, but tightly boned, a cage that lifted my breasts and exposed their soft swell.
The king’s emblems were emblazoned in silver thread on either side—branding me as his.
What did the court see when they saw me? Another one of his courtesans?
The revelers watched me with stolen glances and outright stares. I wanted to shrink away into the shadows, but I refused to feel small or vulnerable. Instead, I stood there, chin up, taking it all in without retreating, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.
I’m winning, I told myself. This is what winning looks like.
The king had no idea the lengths I would’ve gone to gain access to a library like his. Wearing a scandalous dress was nothing. Watching his pageant of excess was an academic experience, like observing a strange culture in a distant land. I was separate from it all.
Except I wasn’t. I was his centerpiece.
“Enjoying yourself, princess?” He purred, his voice silky and mocking.
I’d been expecting him to feast on his courtesans in front of me, but instead, he’d barely taken his eyes off me the entire night.
While I could weather the looks and whispers of the crowd, his relentless gaze was another story. Scorching. Searching. Covetous.
“I’m stunned at the level immortals will sink to when beyond the confines of civilization.”
His fingers brushed mine as he plucked the goblet from my hand, and I became painfully aware of my own heartbeat. “You’re mistaken. This is the height of our civilization, as it was in the old days.”
I kept my gaze ahead, my nostrils flaring at the metallic scent of the blood he was drinking. “You mean the height of debauchery. Why bring this all out into the open? Why not leave it behind closed doors where it belongs?”
The king returned the goblet, angling his head toward the dancing immortals.
“My court are mostly exiles from the Bloodvale and other immortal domains. Revels give them the chance to live as they once did. As the gods and Fates have turned their back on us, we worship pleasure instead—a far more rewarding subject of adoration.”
“It seems like a decidedly one-sided affair.”
“Are you certain about that?” He arched one eyebrow, the flecks of gold in his eyes catching the light. “Perhaps you need a closer look.”
I wanted to convince myself he was wrong, but there was no way to avoid the truth.
The humans laughed just as loudly as the immortals, their joy just as vibrant, while those that coupled with the bloodsuckers in the dark corners of the room showed no restraint in their enthusiasm.
Everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves.
“No one is here who does not choose to be,” the king said.
“I am.”
He glanced over at me, a glint in his eyes.
“I gave you a library, an extravagant reward for holding my cup.” He waved his hand.
“The minstrels, courtesans, and blood retainers who serve are all paid thrice their normal wages as well, and those that don’t care to join us hold their own feast in the under halls—everyone feasts on a night like this. ”
“How very noble of you,” I said. “Perhaps if you gave the staff a real choice—not one tied to their livelihoods and survival—they might choose differently.”
Valen ruled with fear. He populated his castle with statues of terrified servants, which, according to Locke, were intended to keep the staff cowering, submissive, and afraid.
The king leaned back in his chair, surveying the room. “Believe what you wish, but these revels are one of the few things I can do to lift a little of the misery of this place.”
I laughed. “Funny. I thought you were the reason this place was miserable.”
He cast me a knowing look. “You know that’s not true, no matter how much you wish it to be so. The curse is what makes this place unbearable. It permeates the castle like frost seeping through the windows, corrupting all it touches.”
My breath caught. “You feel it?”
“We all do.” There was no amusement in his expression, just solemn acceptance as he turned his gaze back to the celebration and nodded. “We choose to defy it—for tonight at least.”
My mind wheeled as I stared out across the expanse of dancers.
The same music played, the same laughter rang, but now, everything was different.
No longer solely a spectacle of opulence and debauchery, it was a willful rejection of the depression that hung over us all—a fleeting victory over the melancholy of the curse.
What else had I mistaken about this place—about its king?
Isolde Morgrave caught me staring at her and smiled broadly, reclining back beneath the attentions of two bare-chested men.
The back of my throat burned, and my head swam.
Before I could look away, she pushed her companions aside and rose, straightening her petticoat before striding toward the dais.
I cursed. I still hadn’t made up for missing tea. I hadn’t meant it as a slight. After standing up for me at the court reception, I couldn’t help but feel a certain comradery with her, bloodsucker or not.
The king waved her forward, and she ascended to the first step, eyeing me hungrily, her lips stained red. “Perhaps you and your cupbearer would like to join us, Your Highness? Lady Marquette does owe me a drink.”
Valen looked over at me, one eyebrow raised expectantly, the hint of an all-too-amused smile pulling at the corner of his lips.
I swallowed around the rising lump in my throat. “No. I’m quite fine, thank you.”
She wrinkled her nose in disappointment, then glanced back at the two patiently waiting men. “But there is so much we could teach you.”
I forced a smile. “I prefer to learn from books.”
Lady Morgrave laughed. “Is that why you’re spending so much time in the king’s library? Indulging yourself in stories of romance when you should be out here living.”
I opened my mouth and closed it again. “No—I’m not—that’s not what I’ve been reading.”
Technically, I’d found a few books containing shocking content, but I hadn’t let them distract me from my work. For long.
I wondered if the king had more? How would they be organized?
“Of course you weren’t.” Lady Morgrave winked at me and inclined her head to the two courtesans who waited for her. “You must really reconsider, my dear. There’s nothing like hands on experience.”
I looked to the king for help.
“Lady Marquette will not be joining the festivities tonight.” His voice was rough. Almost covetous.
“So possessive,” Isolde tsked, then with a low dip, she returned to her waiting lovers, taking them to herself again.
I tugged on my bodice, my heart about ready to snap the ribbing of it.
“Are you unwell, princess?” the king asked, glancing over at me.
“Fine, why?”
A smile ghosted his lips. “Your heart is racing.”
Every godsdamned bloodsucker in this room could probably hear it.