Chapter Twenty-Five #2
Eve doesn’t know it either, which explains why their entire conversation is taking place on a sheet of paper.
Snagging a pen from the mug on the corner of her desk, I write out my response and hand it back to her.
Her face lights up and she begins to nod excitedly.
Eve peers over Sybille’s shoulder and rolls her eyes before giving me a flat stare.
With a gentle nudge against my innate, a billow of shadows swirls into existence between Sybille and me, and standing, she reaches out gingerly.
Her brown eyes grow wide as the shadows respond to her touch, twirling themselves around her fingers.
As she turns her hand over, the shadows pool into a ball in the palm of her hand.
Cupping the shadows, she drags the paper across the desk and scribbles again. I pull the paper to me as she sets the pen aside to carefully play with the sphere of shadows in her hand.
They’re so cold.
“Are they?” I ask, my brows furrowing. “I’ve never noticed.”
“Don’t let the rarity of your innate go to your head, Ves,” Eve teases with a smirk.
“It’s not considered rare in the hells, Eve.” I shrug playfully. “I’ll gladly show it to those who want to see it.”
“I didn’t think you liked having your ego stroked,” she mutters and I can’t help but chuckle.
After the morning I’ve had, I’ll take whatever harmless distractions come my way.
I turn to Sybille, “Do you mind if I take Eve for a minute? I have some questions for her.”
As the shadows vanish like morning fog, her eyes meet mine as she nods.
Thank you, she gestures.
With a wave of her hands, she dismisses us and lowers herself to her seat, opening one of the several books on the desk. Eve gives me a concerned glance as I begin toward the stairs, gesturing for her to follow.
“I thought you were with Cor?” Eve asks as she catches up, falling in beside me.
“I was, but I have a few questions for you. Something’s come to my attention,” I say, keeping my voice low.
“Another interesting turn of events?” she laughs.
My deadpan stare causes her laughter to falter.
She sighs as we turn and continue down the stairs. “Gods, now what?”
“Your channel with Druka,” I begin, and her brows raise slightly, “you gave consent for her to open it, right?”
“Of course. She said it couldn’t be opened otherwise.”
“And there was a spell or—or a ritual?”
“I mean, maybe. I don’t know,” Eve answers, blinking a few times. “I gave my consent, my contract was amended to include the channel, and then it existed.”
I huff an exasperated sigh.
Eve pulls my arm, stopping me in the middle of the staircase.
“What is it?” Her tone is as firm as her stare.
I laugh, rather nervously, earning myself a narrow-eyed glare.
“A channel has opened between Ryc and I.”
“Okay, and?” She releases me. “As long as he’s consented—”
“Neither of us consented,” I whisper, interrupting her.
“Wait, what?” Her eyes grow round.
“I can hear him as clear as I hear my own thoughts.” I lean a shoulder against the wall as she descends the couple steps between us to stand beside me.
“There’s this pull, and I feel traces of his emotions.
I’ve put up a mental ward for the time being, but this is a magic I’m not familiar with.
I don’t know how this happened without consent. ”
“Let me get this straight.” Eve crosses her arms over her chest, tucking her hands under her biceps. “It opened without consent, you can sense his emotions, and there’s a pull between you?”
I nod.
Eve purses her lips, her brows creasing in thought. “I can ask Druka about this, but I don’t believe it’s a channel.”
“How can it be anything else? It opened after he signed the contract,” I argue, the desperation clear in my voice. “I need him out of my head,” I finish in a tight whisper.
“You did this to yourself,” she teases in hushed tones.
My lips pull into a tight frown. She’s not wrong, but she doesn’t have to remind me.
“Ask Druka, please,” I sigh, beginning down the staircase, refusing to meet her stare. “Let me know what she has to say.”
“You know what she’s going to say, Ves,” Eve calls after me.
My frown deepens.
Druka would encourage me to take advantage of the mortal in every way possible. And to my utter mortification, shimmering amusement resonates through our channel.
Light take me, please.
?????????????
A nagging feeling in the back of my mind tells me I shouldn’t go to this event. The feeling sits like a heavy weight on my stomach. A warning to stay in the temple tonight.
Or at the very least, not see him.
Not after today.
Not after the appearance of this channel.
More than that, showing up to a royal event, invited by the king, to likely stand beside him, sends a larger message. A message I’d rather not be sending. I’m no one’s consort. Not anymore.
I’d stolen a rubber band from the kitchens, one used to bind carrots by their greens and slung it around my wrist. Every time I thought of Ryc, I pulled that makeshift bracelet back and snapped it against my skin.
If it weren’t for my fae healing, I’m pretty sure my wrist would be black and blue. Bruised to the high heavens. It hurt, but it worked. I’d lose focus on him and focus on the pain and curse myself for thinking about him to begin with.
The packages Lilith had brought contained more than Eve and I would have ever needed for one evening’s event. Four dresses, all black with silver touches and embellishments.
Black and silver being the colors of Erus, of the Witherhorn family.
Six pairs of shoes, several decorative cloaks—it was overwhelming.
Mostly because it reminded me of the hells and the creature I used to be.
The creature that would slither through the courts at the behest of Netharis.
Rising from the chair beside the fireplace in my bedroom, I approach the standing mirror.
I look nothing like the reflection I’ve grown accustomed to since my arrival in the living realm.
With Cora’s help, I’d swept my silver hair into a loose bun, keeping a few pieces free to frame my face.
Black silk hugs my body, emphasizing every curve and dip of my waist and the shape of my thighs before loosening just enough to allow for movement.
This, of course, was aided by a pair of dangerously high slits in the material, each ending about mid-thigh.
The dress features a sharp, plunging neckline revealing my moonstone necklace, and continues to plummet, nearly exposing my navel.
A sheer panel of transparent black organza holds the two halves of the dress together, otherwise I fear it slipping off.
It’s beyond beautiful, simple enough to not be overbearing, but detailed enough to be intriguing.
Turning, the back of the dress gives me pause.
Strands of silver crystals drape across the back, catching the light and scattering it with each little movement.
It glitters like moonlight across the water’s surface.
The dark Malbolge runes stay mostly hidden beneath, but the trail from the base of my skull to between my shoulder blades remains openly visible.
It’s stunning. On par with the dresses I’ve worn to attend Bloodhallow, the Abyssal, or any of the other hellish celebrations. Rolling my shoulders, I release a held breath as I attempt to mentally prepare myself for what the night is going to contain.
“Good gods, you look amazing,” Eve laughs as she steps through the open bathing room door.
Turning, my eyes fall on Eve and my jaw falls open in awestruck surprise.
Eve is gorgeous.
Her long, midnight black braided hair, usually in a high bun, cascades down her back and over her shoulders. Tiny, delicate charms and crystals dangle subtly from the braids, catching the eye with flashes of reflected light.
Her dress is cut from the same black silk, featuring a high neckline, sleeveless bodice, and a low back.
Silver crystals string from the bodice over her upper arm in a similar fashion as the back of my dress.
The way it clings to her figure draws my eyes to her hips, forcing me to make a ‘tsk’ sound as I shake my head.
“I pale compared to you,” I whisper in awe and Eve laughs.
She offers me her arm and I take it. “You ready for this?” she asks, raising a brow.
Honestly? No.
I want nothing more than to hide away from the eyes that are inevitably going to stare. I don’t want to be paraded around on a dance floor, on the arm of any creature—mortal or demon—on display as a promised prize for those who continue to serve Netharis.
And that’s what tonight will be.
That’s what stepping into a fae court will be.
I may forget the world when I’m with Ryc but—
I reach for the rubber band on my wrist before I remember I removed it when getting dressed. I sigh and worry at my lower lip.
Eve notices.
“You’re nervous?” It was more of an observation than a question.
Shaking my head, I answer. “No. Not nervous.”
She stares at me, somehow knowing I’m not telling her the whole truth.
“I don’t want to do this,” I relent, drawing in a deep breath. “It’s too much like the things I did to please my father.”
Eve’s expression softens, her eyes seeking mine and I can’t bring myself to meet her stare. Bitter shame and stinging defeat roll over me without mercy.
“I know this isn’t the hells.” I stare at my reflection in the mirror across the room. “But, I—”
“Hey.” Eve’s face appears before me, her blue eyes piercing mine. She gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re allowed to say no. You can decline an invitation and not give a reason. If you don’t want to go, we don’t go.”
She makes it sound so easy, so simple.
“It’s an invitation, not an order,” she adds softly.
Nodding, I swallow hard against the dryness of my throat. With pursed lips, I move across the room, toward my bed, and snatch the dagger I’d thrown there earlier. Lifting my leg, I strap it to my thigh under the silk.
“Wait. You’re going to go?” Eve asks, the concern in her voice evident.