Chapter Eight #2
KADEESHA HAD THOUGHT the grand ballroom of the Aether Court palace was impressive with its deep violet-and-gold-veined floors, murals of past court monarchs bedecking the ceiling that had been painted by some of the most gifted artists faekind had ever known, and purple glass windows that rose from the floor to ceiling.
Over her lifetime, she’d attended revelries in the rest of the Six Kingdoms too.
The Fire Court palace had a grand ballroom ensconced in glimmering reds and oranges and yellows, with actual rubies embedded into its floors, ceiling, and walls.
Being in the Water Court’s ballroom—as with all its palace rooms—was akin to floating underwater while surrounded by the many rich and vibrant colors of a coral reef.
The Wind king’s entire palace floated in the sky, and its grand ballroom held majestic alabaster columns that rose so high they seemed to disappear into the heavens when you gazed up at them.
The ballroom also had no walls. All that stood before wingless visitors from other courts and death was the good sense to watch your step when one neared the room’s perimeter.
The Stone Court’s ballroom was built from rose quartz and had flowers in every hue imaginable twining across its ceiling and walls.
Then there was the Hyperion ballroom that was painted in resplendent gold and white and displayed opulent furnishings and precious artifacts in every corner.
All of which meant that Kadeesha shouldn’t be stunned by palatial ballrooms at this point.
Yet she couldn’t help but gape at the space around her.
The Apollyon grand ballroom dripped with elegance, extravagance, and wealth on a level she didn’t think she’d ever seen before.
Like the thrones Malachizrien, his aunt, and cousin had sat upon in the throne room, the ballroom’s walls and floor consisted of slabs of smooth, polished onyx—the rare, precious, and highly coveted mineral found only within the Yunnas on the Apollyon side of the border.
Embedded in the onyx were a dizzying number of chunks of diamonds—both rough and polished—yet another prized resource cradled only within the mountains that traversed Apollyon lands.
The ceiling stretched high and the entire roof was an enormous skylight, offering a clear view of the cloudless night sky that, at the moment, looked like an artist had dipped a brush into paint that was the darkest black and painted the sky with meticulous strokes.
Billions of stars twinkled against the lush black backdrop.
And a full silvery moon shone bright, perched directly above the ballroom as if in a reminder to all who beheld it that the Apollyon Court was once known as the Moon Court at the dawn of faekind’s existence.
Remembering that bit of history led Kadeesha to think more about fae lore, specifically that Apollyon lands were the cradle of fae life, if some legends and ancient scrolls were to be believed.
Those accountings even claimed that the fae who lived on both sides of the Yunnas had once been one united folk, one court, one society.
And they’d all worshipped Nyaxia, the moon goddess, until Hyperios, the sun god, became jealous and decided he deserved worship too.
Hyperios’s coveting that which was not his to begin with then spread among the rest of the Celestials, ruining any chance of the faefolk remaining unified.
Kadeesha frowned, thinking of the primitive myth that most of the Six Kingdoms dismissed as Apollyon blethering.
Truth or not, one thing was certain: Most men—of all varieties and life forms—were astoundingly arrogant assholes.
Case in point, she was clothed in this dress that left her body mostly on display except for artfully sewn clusters of diamonds that somewhat covered the essential bits.
“You look perfect,” Malachizrien had told her when he’d shown up to escort her from her room. “Exactly as stunning as a princess I’d steal for a war prize after attacking her betrothed’s court.”
It hadn’t been a compliment, and they’d both known it. It had been a taunt, and balling her hands into fists had only barely stopped the aether fire from shooting out of Kadeesha’s fingers. She would deal with Malachizrien eventually. But not yet.
She repeated the vow inside her mind as Malachizrien’s arm tightened around her waist. His large hand palmed her hip, his thumb brushing over the dip in her flesh there possessively.
Fire ignited at the spot, sending heat lashing along her body.
She pressed her tongue against an upper canine with enough pressure to draw blood.
She used the swift pain to temper the unwanted reaction to Malachizrien’s intimate touch.
The goal was to seduce her enemy, not fall under his spell.
The fact that she hadn’t yet doused such eager responses to Malachizrien made her despise him that much more.
When this was all over, she’d take his thumb, which was a scalding brand against her skin, and display it in a velvet box on some mantel in her palace—it’d be a reminder to never again let a male play her as Malachizrien had, and it’d be a trophy that declared she had been the one to best him in the end.
She chuckled low before she could stop it.
Standing beside her, still near the entrance of the ballroom they’d stepped through only moments ago, the northern king turned his focus from surveying the room to her.
She was tall but he was a good head taller, impossibly tall.
So he peered down at her through thick dark lashes that cast shadows on sharp cheekbones that made him appear equal parts brutal and beautiful.
“What’s funny? It’s rude not to share,” he imparted, voice a suspicious rumble.
Platinum and diamonds glimmered behind his full lips when he spoke.
Kadeesha had noticed the same flash of jewels when he’d escorted her from her room a short while ago.
Just as before, she locked down her expression, as well as other wretched stirrings, when she spied the extravagant adornment Malachizrien had donned for the revelries.
Such accoutrements weren’t in fashion among any of the Six Kingdoms—wearing grilles as a status symbol was thought to be a gaudy custom that existed among Apollyon nobles.
But every time Kadeesha caught sight of Malachizrien’s grille and how it only enhanced his near-ethereal beauty while bequeathing him even more of a lethal air—
She severed the treacherous thought.
Kadeesha sneered instead, brandishing an attitude like battle armor.
“I was just thinking about how I never thanked you for delivering such a dazzling gown for me to wear. Please, forgive my manners. I’ll be sure to extend the proper gratitude owed to a king.
” She didn’t bother to make it sound like anything except a veiled promise of retribution for the scrap of fabric.
Malachizrien shrugged and pulled her closer into his side, ignoring the threat.
He was clothed in an opulent black silk jacket with onyx buttons that matched the jewels in his ornate crown.
A black fur pelt hung from his wide shoulders, while onyx stones glinted in both of his earlobes and a necklace that was a thick gold rope chain lay against his hulking chest. The other males around were dressed similarly in subtly hued silks, jewels glinting in their ears, grilles decorating their teeth, and heavy gold chains around their necks.
The women of the court weren’t to be outdone in extravagance either.
Their ornate gowns ran the gamut from darker neutral tones to rich, vibrant hues; colorful jewels glimmered at their fingers, wrists, ears, and throats; and many wore grilles of their own.
But only Malachizrien wore the onyx stones among his jeweled adornments, a distinction that was clearly by design.
Kadeesha mused whether it was some long-standing court custom or a decree handed down by Malachizrien simply because he was an arrogant ass.
Speaking of which … Malachizrien dragged his nose along the column of her throat in a lazy, slow fashion, as if he had all the time in the world because the world moved on his time.
Kadeesha stiffened … all the while hating the way sparks danced along every inch of skin that he touched.
And elsewhere too. She badly needed to sever the damnable lingering attraction on her part; she refused to let this male think she was enjoying the ruse he’d locked her into by any means.
Yes, she wanted to seduce him, but, as Yashira had taught her, that often didn’t mean being pliable.
Beyond that, it was a matter of principle.
Yes, they’d fucked. All night. Yes, it had been delicious.
Rapturous, even. But that had been under entirely different circumstances and free of coercion.
A better male, an actually decent male, would’ve healed Samira without Malachizrien’s conniving bargain.
Which almost made her laugh again, though this time she suppressed it.
But the cause remained in her mind: that most fae males were the exact opposite of decent, and Malachizrien was purely heinous.
He’d stood by and watched dozens of innocent people be slain when he clearly could’ve intervened and neutralized Rishaud’s soldiers up-front.
But he detested the Aether Court as much as he did the Hyperion Court.
He bore a grudge against all southernfolk.
The Six Kingdoms did assassinate his parents. And they sought to assassinate him as a young boy too.