Twelve Avirin
TWELVE
Avirin
Even from outside, Avirin can tell the manor is buzzing with activity. On the steps, people mingle, chatting around the smoke rising from their pipes. They greet Lord Riften happily, and when he guides Avirin inside, she sees the full expanse of the party.
On one side of the hall, two men speak intimately, fingers grazing each other’s arms. A pair of women link their pinkies and incline their heads to whisper, giggling when their mouths nearly touch.
Behind them, the parlor door cracks open, and someone slips out in only stays and pantalettes.
A moan rises through the open door, and the person grins and leans their head back inside before they pull the room shut again.
Avirin even recognizes Samuel reclined on a plush couch in one of the sitting rooms. His face is covered in lip prints, and he gives Avirin and Lord Riften a dopey smile before he’s pulled back into kissing the brunette man and woman on either side of him.
It’s like being transported to another world.
This house seems to belong to a member of the ton, but she doesn’t recognize anyone else here.
No one is dressed in the stuffy, homogenous attire Avirin is used to.
The entryway itself is hardly crowded, but the house feels full, teeming with energy Avirin can’t put her finger on. “What is this place?”
Lord Riften looks contentedly over the room. “Technically, it is mine.”
“Yours?” Avirin balks.
“In a just world, it would belong to Cascade. She’s done more with it than I ever could, a place for courtesans to gather and get whatever they need.
The legislature, however, does not like to acknowledge Cascade’s claim to the house.
They barely acknowledge mine.” Lord Riften meanders with Avirin through the foyer.
“I have given this house to her, and she graciously allows me a room, but I fear it may not belong to either of us for much longer. The previous owner accrued quite a bit of debt that looks like it will come back to bite me when all is said and done.”
“The previous owner?” Avirin’s brow knits. “Your cousin, you mean?”
A wry smile flits across Lord Riften’s lips.
“That is certainly what they call him. But that isn’t why we’re here tonight.
” Lord Riften places their hands on Avirin’s waist, turning her gently to face the rest of the room while they lower their mouth beside her ear.
“I cannot be the one to finalize your lessons, but if you so choose, tonight you will explore your body with someone else. Do you understand, my lady?”
His breath against her skin is temptation personified. A needy sound rises in her throat, but she uses all her strength to nod.
For a moment, she swears Lord Riften’s teeth scrape her earlobe. “Good girl.” Then he straightens and leads her up the staircase. “If nothing else, you will not have to lie when you say you have never laid with me.”
The roughness in his voice makes her knees weak. Avirin’s barely gotten her bearings when a woman appears at the top of the stairs and gasps with delight.
“Darling.” Her sinewy body is draped in a wet chemise that clings to her blue skin and outlines every subtle curve.
When she slinks down the stairs, the light glints off her silver scales, like a fish moving through water.
She pulls Lord Riften close, planting a lingering kiss on the corner of his mouth before her barracuda eyes slide to Avirin. “What have we here?”
Avirin’s skin prickles. Somehow, the woman’s voice sounds threatening and enticing all at once. Avirin can’t be sure if she’s frightened or something else entirely.
The woman sidles up in front of her, tucking a strand of wet hair behind her ear. “A little guppy all on her own?
Lord Riften eases between them, wings pulling taut. “You speak as if you don’t see me standing here, Sinoe.”
Sinoe doesn’t spare a glance for him. Her sharpened teeth sink into a smile when her gaze drags down Avirin’s body. “Can you blame me?”
A shiver streaks through Avirin. Is this how foxes feel staring into the mouths of hounds? No, it can’t be; surely a fox wouldn’t have the senseless desire to feel the dog’s teeth sink into their flesh, just once. Just to feel it.
Mercifully, Lord Riften isn’t so distracted. He pulls Avirin close. “We won’t be visiting your fountain this evening. You’ll have to make each other’s acquaintance another time.”
Sinoe’s laugh is husky. “You don’t want to share?” She trails one fingernail along the bustline of Avirin’s dress. “I bet if she asked nicely —”
“Sinoe.”
Sinoe winks and continues her descent. “Perhaps next time, Avirin.”
Sinoe knows her name? Avirin’s eyes follow the woman, hypnotized by the sway of her hips. Lord Riften’s gentle hands settle beneath Avirin’s elbows and prompt her to continue up the stairs. “Don’t let your eyes get bigger than your stomach,” Lord Riften teases.
Avirin blanches, like she’s been caught watching someone undress. “I’m certain I don’t know what you mean! I’m not even —” Her throat makes a grumbling sound to bring attention to its emptiness.
Lord Riften’s lips twitch. “Once you are ready to feed, we should find you a well-balanced meal, someone satisfying and restorative. Sinoe, on the other hand…” Lord Riften sighs with fond exasperation.
“I would liken her to a feast in the desert for you. A delightful treat, but you’ll overindulge to sickness if you aren’t careful. ”
All this talk of feasting has Avirin absolutely parched. When they reach the second floor, Lord Riften scoops up two glasses of cider from a nearby tray and deposits one into her hand.
She drinks it gratefully and eyes the drawing room at the top of the stairs.
This seems to be the main hub of activity, the center of the party itself.
Groups are seated at different tables, laughing and drinking and shuffling cards.
Above the clusters of candles, a fog of tobacco smoke fills the room, tinging the space with a pleasantly woody scent.
Avirin is drawn immediately to one woman, a maple dryad smoking a cigar and dealing cards.
She wears fine trousers and a shirt that cinch in just the right places, leaving Avirin to wonder why women wear dresses at all.
The dryad’s eyes are sharp, hairline branching back into vibrant red and gold leaves that frame the ashen brown bark of her face.
There’s an impish quality about her smirk that rivals Lord Riften, yet even when she isn’t speaking, her presence commands attention.
When she catches sight of Lord Riften, she hands off the deck to make her way toward them. As she approaches, a man intercepts her, bending to murmur in her ear. “You-know-who is trying to buy his way in again.”
The woman flashes a bitter smile. “You’d think a viscount would have better things to do than invite himself to a party for peculiars.
Though, to be fair, I’ve never seen him among company he didn’t hire.
” She shares a knowing look with Lord Riften before she speaks to her companion. “I trust you’ll take care of it?”
“With your blessing.” Then the man vanishes.
The woman turns back to Lord Riften, pinching his side until she spots Avirin. “Oh, she looks just like the drawings!” She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “Though Pye has expounded on your beauty, they simply haven’t done you justice.”
Avirin’s face heats. She looks to Lord Riften, but they don’t quite meet her eyes, a darker shade of yellow blooming on their neck.
“Admiring her and disparaging me?” Lord Riften’s cheeks dimple.
“I would have it no other way.” He gestures between the two women.
“Lady Avirin, this is my dear friend, Cascade.”
Sweat beads on the back of Avirin’s neck. “Oh, I’m —” What are the social expectations in this scenario? Should she care more about correctness or politeness? In the end, she forgoes both, letting the strange haze of the evening cover her. “Just Avirin would be fine.”
Cascade’s eyes narrow with intrigue. She extends her hand. After a moment, Avirin takes it, but she isn’t prepared for Cascade to lift Avirin’s bare knuckles to her mouth.
It’s not the first time another woman has touched her, but it is the first time it’s…different. Stirring. Sensual. Cascade’s lips linger on her skin, her eyes latched steadily onto Avirin’s. Inside her, something twists tight as a violin peg, and Cascade’s mouth moves like a bow across the strings.
Then Cascade pulls away, and only when Lord Riften nudges the bottom of Avirin’s glass does she realize it’s almost slipped from her hand. She tightens her grip, still thrumming from Cascade’s touch. “A pleasure,” Avirin manages. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
“Indeed it is, Avirin.” Cascade’s voice is low and lilting.
“Since Pye asked to bring you to one of our private parties, I trust you’re rather exceptional.
” Her heady gaze lingers for another moment before she turns to Lord Riften with a fresh thought.
“Have you let her read through your notes? Learned girl like her, I bet she could get them in order.”
“They’re still in a bit of disarray.” Lord Riften brings their glass to their mouth. “I’ll have to locate them.”
Cascade rolls her eyes. “Always an excuse. I do hope you two will join us for cards. We’re playing for chips…” Her gaze finds Avirin again. “Unless something else is on offer.”
Avirin’s head swims, and Lord Riften settles a gentle hand against her back. “We’ll be sure to find your table if we do.”
With that, Cascade returns to mingle amongst her guests, and Lord Riften leads Avirin away. “Clearly you have the same charming effect on the demimonde as you do on me.” He plucks the cider glass from Avirin’s limp hand and lifts it to his satisfied smirk. “So…how do you find Cascade?”
There’s a sing-song lilt to his voice that taunts Avirin. She snatches the glass back and takes a long swallow, relishing the taste of his lips on it. “She’s…” Enchanting. Compelling. Breathtaking. “I should very much like to play cards with her.”
Lord Riften leans their shoulder against the wall. “Does she seem like a well-balanced meal?”
It takes Avirin a moment to understand. “You think I could feed with her?” The thought is ludicrous. “But we would have to…”
Lord Riften merely lifts their brows.
Could she feed from a woman? Could she desire one? Avirin dabs her sweaty palms on her skirts. Before these lessons, she was certain her attraction extended only to men. That was the way of things. That was what she told herself.
Of course, she has always noticed certain things about women.
Their necklaces resting in the hollows of their throats, their hair slipping free of their pins, their smiles shared like secrets in crowded rooms. How could Avirin be expected to ignore all of that?
How many times has she been reminded that they are the fairer sex, that their beauty surpasses that of any man?
She hid those thoughts away, recklessly shoving them into the recesses of her mind, until she wasn’t certain if she was hiding them or hiding from them.
In the dark of night, she felt the ideas rustling as if they’d come alive.
As if the more she hid them, the bigger they got.
As if someday soon, they would grow too big for the box she kept them in.
But that was a problem Avirin needn’t concern herself with — until she met Lord Riften. Their beauty is not so simply contained in one box or another. They were the first to truly give her pause, to tease her mind and make her reconsider everything she knew.
What did he say the first night they danced? I am a man…but not only that. That was how Avirin rationalized it. Lord Riften’s allure was simply an exception to the rule, an extension of the line she’d already drawn in the sand. He was one person; her craving for him didn’t have to upend everything.
But now her stomach stirs at the thought of Cascade. Of Sinoe. Of Selbie. That line is washing away with the tide, leaving Avirin staring into an endless sea of possibilities. It’s massive. It’s terrifying. It might swallow her whole.
“Could I…” Avirin’s mouth goes dry. “Be with her that way?”
“You could do anything, Avirin.” Lord Riften’s gaze is sober now, like her understanding of this is of the greatest import. He lowers his face to meet her eyes, and she no longer feels like she is drowning. “All you need is to do is take a step toward it, and you will have a chance.”
Avirin’s heart thuds. She twirls the beading on her dress, tugging until the threads threaten to fray. “But would Cascade want that? With me?”
Lord Riften rests their hand upon hers, and for a brief moment, her mind stills. He squeezes gently. “There’s one way to find out.”