28
Jacira was one of the most competitive people Valine had ever met in her life, and it was only solidified by the fact that they were on the third and final round of the three-legged race. The two of them were competing against Sarim and Cersei, Freyja and Tallulah, and Malik and Pandora. Alastair and Balchon had long ago bowed out in favor of drinking wine and being pampered. Despite Alastair’s careful politicking and countenance surrounding the Tallohian’s, he kept a distance between himself and the delicacies and debauchery offered. Still, Valine knew a part of him secretly loved it. Surely, he missed the life he’d had until he was shunned?
Hanish was on the sidelines, dressed in the same white linen—or a duplicate of—as he’d worn last night. He raised his arm in the air, a formal golden pistol in his grip, and pulled the trigger. The eight competitors took off with the shot, and it was clear that this round was much more physical than the previous two had been.
Valine was shouldering against Cersei, digging sharp elbows into ribs, and small hisses of exclamations lit the air. In the nick of time, she remembered Jacira’s recollection of previous events, and Cersei’s probable cheating, as the lioness in question reached to grab Valine—a move strictly off-limits. Jacira and Valine found a good rhythm in the first race and continued with it, understanding that Valine had to slow ever so while Jacira had to push herself a little harder to keep even. They wrested other competitors on their run, Valine managing to trip Cersei with a well-placed kick to the ankle—all was fair among liars and cheats. She began to tumble to the ground, but Sarim—the hulking mass of muscle and strength he was—managed to pull up the honey-blonde woman. Freyja and Tallulah overtook Sarim and Cersei, laughing as they sped past, while the former had to build up their own once again.
The green lawn was plush under Valine’s bare feet, but her foot still smarted from the kicking, and she bit out a curse. As it was, Valine and Jacira were in first place. Cheers and toasts were going up, and inhibitions declined. Drinks were sloshed over rims, and smiles turned to touches and turned to kisses. On the sidelines, there was more than one couple with their tongues dancing, hands groping in such a way that would beg a lashing in Runell. Just behind the princess and the assassin were Malik and Pandora, and it became quickly evident that the King of Adraali wanted to win.
Like the rest of them, Malik was barefoot, the hems of his black pants rolled up. Valine was startled to see a serpent tattoo on the top of his foot. His nails were painted gold and finely manicured. Unfortunately, those finely pampered nails were becoming grass-stained and embedded with dirt. And it became abundantly clear as Valine was admiring the king that he and Pandora had significantly gained on them.
Pandora was ecstatic, her face rosy and her grin jubilant as her arm was wound around the king with the ground rapidly passing beneath her. Valine could see from the girl’s mannerisms that she was no royal, and she wondered how she’d climbed to the upper echelon of society she was entrenched in. Was it all sex? Was it all devious? How did she come to meet and become lovers with Jacira and Jericho? How long had it all been going on? Valine didn’t know, however none of it mattered as Jacira was yelling in her ear.
“We’re almost there!”
Just as the princess announced this, Valine was knocked off kilter by Malik. His shoulder checked into hers, his hip following in quick succession in such a manner that Valine had no hope of recovering. She went down, Jacira with her, and the only consolation was that Jacira’s momentum had effectively tripped Malik and Pandora. The four of them effectively rolled across the lawn. The princess was tossed over Valine as she hit the grass, tasting dirt and taking the brunt of it on her chest. She rolled to her back, trying to breathe, urged by Jacira’s flight, and felt a second impact. They landed, all four of them together in a tangled heap. Malik on top of Valine, his chest on her pelvis, and Pandora sprawled across Jacira, her face somewhere near Valine’s ribs.
“Fucking hell,” Malik hissed, pain in his voice.
Cheers went up as Freyja and Tallulah hopped past them, crossing the white banner of the finish line. Cersei and Sarim were close on their heels and in perilous danger of ending up in a similar situation to Valine.
For a moment, Valine couldn’t breathe. The impact had knocked the wind out of her, and she was certain in all the commotion that she’d taken a knee or an elbow to the head. As she tried to climb out from underneath the mass, she realized that Pandora and Jacira were sharing a moment. Giggling and touching each other. Valine was horrified to imagine an orgy erupting right then; when she was legitimately tied to the princess. Her panic-filled eyes met Malik’s, and he had seemed to come to the realization at the same time as her. The two of them scrambled to get up, helping each other despite the virtually dead weight attached to them.
Somehow, they managed to get to their feet before an orgy broke out, but even so, Valine wasn’t eager to stay attached to Jacira just in case. She bent low, her head throbbing, as she worked through the knots on the rope holding them together. She did it quickly and with proficiency, thanks to her assassin’s training and other extracurricular activities. Malik watched this all with a brow raised.
“Don’t even ask me to help you. You attacked me,” Valine warned as she crossed the finish line. Malik followed.
“I can’t believe you’d accuse me of something so heinous.”
“I’ll accuse you of worse—perhaps battery of women. I’m sure you were the one to whack me in the head.”
“You’re a malicious thing.”
“You wouldn’t change it,” she threw back, tossing up a middle finger for good measure.
It struck Valine as scandalized expressions crossed those around them, that Valine and Malik did not behave like king and subject, but rather the way friends did. The way people who are comfortable with each other interact. Were they friends? She didn’t think so. Friends didn’t comment on friend’s masturbation habits or touch them like Malik had touched her. They certainly didn’t help each other dress, especially in such a sensual manner. They also didn’t keep secrets and withhold information like Malik had. And so, Valine was angry again.
A gorgeous woman dressed in servant’s attire stalked up beside Hanish with a large black slate, marking down points in white chalk. Her long ebony hair swung freely, though one side was pinned with an opal barrette. The top four spots were taken up by the four teams that had recently raced, in the order in which they’d won—placing Freyja and Tallulah in first. Malik and Pandora were in third—as Pandora crossed the line after Jacira—therefore, Valine and Jacira were placed last at the top.
The female servant announced a refreshment break, and servers went around with newly loaded trays. Hanish caught Valine’s eye, signaling with two fingers by his knee. She nodded. As everyone became distracted by the food and drink, Hanish locked the gun into a velvet-lined box, depositing it into a waiting guard’s hands. He then took up a tray and strode towards Valine. As Hanish swept low to offer her the assortment of pastries and other baked goods, she plucked up a square of baklava as he tucked a note into her opposite hand. She thanked him, and he bowed, skirting the other guests and dipping in offering.
Valine bit into the dessert, tasting honey and walnuts in the flaky pastry. Covering her mouth with a hand under the guise of politeness, she read the note tucked into it.
1)??????Unclear
2)??????Complicated
Midnight, same place.
Valine hid a smirk by stuffing the rest of the square in her mouth and tucked the note within her lace brassiere. During the brief break between events, Valine opted to use the toilets tucked near the palace. It was a small building of white stone and climbing bougainvillea. Before emptying her bladder, Valine reproduced the note, shredded it carefully between her fingers, and flushed all evidence of it behind. Had modern plumbing not been available, she would have had to risk disposing throughout the gardens or swallowing it—something she’d rather not do if it could be avoided.
When Valine returned to the masses, it became painfully evident that in her absence, liquor had been passed much too freely. Everyone was kissing, smoking, or drinking, or participating in other acts of debauchery. Valine surveyed the lawn, finding familiar faces; Malik was smiling a sleek and dangerous smile at some royals, Valine knew the barest of blackmail about. Jacira was straddling Pandora on a lounge chair, the top of her dress hardly covering much of anything anymore. Cersei and Sarim were cheering as Freyja displayed her phenomenal limbo skills with a drink in her hand—her flowing orange pants allowed her plenty of flexibility—while Balchon and Alastair held the ornamental staff she crossed beneath. All of them in various degrees of intoxication—Malik the least, and Balchon the most. But all the while, Tallulah was conversing quietly with the queen who had just made an appearance with King Jericho.
The king was clearly searching for his shared lover, and Valine watched his expression change the moment he found her. It was for a moment, but a dark look passed over his face. The beginnings of a scowl furrowing his brow, his lips down-turning and thinning, a clear look of anger and jealousy. But it flashed away just as fast. He was then clapping a lord on the back with a hearty grin. Valine saw it all, even if no one else did.
Steadying herself, Valine began crossing the lawn towards the queen, nabbing a flute of champagne from one tray and a vial of plum syrup from another. She kept walking as she added the sweetened extract to her drink and deposited the empty glass on another tray. She was sipping the burgundy-tinted bubbles as she came upon the queen and Tallulah. Valine dipped in a polite curtsy, meeting the hard jade of Queen Amaris’s gaze. Her lips turned into a mockery of a smile while Valine vowed to act her ass off.
“Queen Amaris, it is an absolute pleasure to be welcomed so warmly to Talloh. And to such a delightful tournament before the festival has even begun. I feel so truly blessed and honored to be present. The Stygian Ones must shine their light down upon you fondly.”
The weight in Amaris’s gaze lifted ever so, the jade softening as a true smile broke across her countenance. She was garbed in dazzling silver-shot satin, the wavering lines of which sparkled like storm-tossed waters. She was still wearing that magnificent star diadem.
“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Desdemon,” Amaris declared, taking Valine’s hand in hers. Valine tried to hide the jolt that went through her from use of her family name and the touch from the monarch. “The stars spoke to me last night, you see.”
“Did they?” Valine feigned interest as she sipped daintily. “Would you be willing to reveal the wisdom they shared?”
“They divined a great many things will come to this nation. Our ascension to god-hood is tied to such prophecy.” Amaris looked from side to side furtively, squeezing her hand more. “I do not like to put such stock in gossip, but I have been told that upon your journey here, you were tried by arachne, and were found worthy, is this true?”
Valine swallowed, and Tallulah’s gray eyes widened as they leaned forward. “That is true. I was tested. It was a truly terrifying experience, Your Majesty. In that moment, I felt as if my entire life had been pulled from my soul and read by a being with greatness I cannot comprehend.”
“Gracious. I’d heard it, but to have it so clearly painted…you must be a truly remarkable person.” Valine couldn’t put into words how treacherous she truly was. “It was foretold our savior would find ancient creatures, and those creatures would bow to their will. I believe this is you. I believe you are known to the stars and that they have crowned you in destiny.”
Valine didn’t put much stock in destiny, but it would be insulting to the queen who was virtually extolling Valine’s virtues, to point this out. She wondered how much of Amaris’s star-seeing was drug-induced, and how much was wishful thinking. As wondrous as stellaemancers were, they could see very little of the future beyond large, vague events. It was well known that divinamancers were the only true sources of prophecy, and as Hanish had educated, they were hidden away for the danger they posed. Valine wondered if the queen was not lying entirely if she had sought a divinamancer herself, who spouted the same prophetic bullshit she was serving Valine. She didn’t like to linger on the thought because what if Valine was on a path she did not choose, and rather a saint or a daemon had set her on it?
“I cannot express to you how privileged I am that you think of me so highly. I will cherish your words forevermore.”
Amaris clutched her hand even tighter. “Lady Valine, do you think a royal wedding may be in your future?”
Valine blinked and tried not to choke on her plum champagne. “Um, I do not imagine so, Your Majesty. I have no prospects or suitors, and to be quite honest, I’m above the ideal age for a royal marriage.”
Amaris scoffed and patted Valine’s hand, finally letting it go. “I’m not worried about your age. I’m more concerned about a certain secret dalliance.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, I have heard—not that I search for this sort of talk—that you and King Malik are…friendly. And I will not lie. I’ve seen with my own eyes some of this admiration.”
“Yes, we speak fondly because, as you see, I am to be a companion to his prospective brides come the Blooming Season. I was welcomed along to learn the ways in which a court operates and how to best support his future wife.” Valine refused to pinpoint why this statement pained her.
“Valine, you are meant to be much more than just a companion.”
Valine inhaled. What the queen didn’t know was that she was so much more than that already. Necromancer. Assassin. A Desdemon. Falling for the King of Adraali.