24. Jia
Jia had always loved parties and balls. She loved dancing and drinking and dressing up. Tonight, she was going to dance and drink, and forget. She needed to forget.
Jia had thrown herself onto the dance floor, dancing with any women that looked single or single enough, and drained cup after cup of wine, trying to bury the deep ache.
She plucked another glass of wine from a passing server, twirling with delight when she stepped back hard onto someone’s toes.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I—” Jia’s words froze as she looked up to see Kaiya Whitethorn smile stiffly down at her. Kaiya, the lone survivor of her platoon in Whitewood.
But Jia was too drunk to read the reluctance in Kaiya’s face, or to care. She wanted to forget, wanted to relax. And she’d definitely consumed enough wine to achieve that.
“Whitethorn!” Jia beamed, reaching out and pulling on waist length white braid that was half up, half down for the dance tonight.
Kaiya wore a black suit and had done her makeup with a skilled hand, drawing a sharp wing on each eyelid. She’d painted her full lips with black lipstick. Kaiya looked mouthwatering, Jia thought, even if Jia was married.
And then she remembered she wasn’t married. Not anymore. The reminder jolted her from her happy, drunk haze into grief and darkness. Kaiya looked down at Jia’s dress hungrily, and Jia pushed it all away.
Was Kaiya into women?
A small part of Jia, somewhere deep down that hadn’t died or been irreplaceably damaged, hoped so. Begged. The corner of Jia’s mouth kicked up. “I remember you. You took away my wine.”
Kaiya smirked, and Jia was happy to see that the haunted, grim expression that Kaiya had when she found out that Jia was Ice-Born was absent tonight. “It needed to be taken away.”
“What a terrible opinion.”
Kaiya laughed and stepped further into Jia’s space, a faint smile on her lips. “Terrible or not, doesn’t make it any less true,” Kaiya murmured, her voice low and suggestive. “I saw you dancing tonight. You only dance with women.”
Jia knew what she was asking. “I only ever dance with women.”
Kaiya was attractive, distractingly so, and just what Jia needed. The booze wasn’t helping, and there weren’t any drugs at the castle. Maybe she should bury herself in women. Maybe that would help the gaping hole in her heart.
Jia reached out and wrapped her fingers around Kaiya’s wrist. “Come on, let’s dance.”
Kaiya let Jia tug her along until they were on the dance floor, surrounded by other couples eagerly awaiting the next song.
“Are you a good dancer?” Jia asked, looping her arms around Kaiya’s neck.
“Maybe you should have asked before you dragged me out here,” Kaiya told her, but the confidence in the way she pulled Jia closer made Jia swoon.
Kaiya was tall, but not as tall as Volla, had brown serious eyes, and was an excellent dancer. Everything Volla wasn’t and everything Jia needed.
They danced to one song, and then another, and another. Until the warmth of the wine burned away from the heat that Kaiya was giving her. She wished it wasn’t.
“Do you need some help getting back to your room?” Kaiya asked, that hungry look in her eyes, but Jia shook her head.
She wanted to, she did. And maybe that was exactly what she needed to get through this . . . but she couldn’t. She wasn’t ready. She wanted one woman on this planet. Her wife. “No, no. I just need . . . I need another drink.”
Kaiya opened her mouth to protest, but Jia was already pulling away, slipping her hand out of Kaiya’s warm one, and making a mad dash away. Straight to the nearest waiter with a tray full of bubbly wine.
Jia pulled one off a tray and threw back the contents, before grabbing another. She weaved in and out of people, looking for Rorax, or maybe Kiniera. Someone she knew, one of her friends . . . or close enough to it.
She saw Rorax finally—in a black dress that was easily the most stylish and provocative thing Jia had ever seen Rorax wear—and started making her way through the crowd.
Jia continued to move forward, making good progress before a tall blonde in a sleek green suit stepped in her way.
Isgra looked her up and down, but instead of loathing that was so familiar to Jia, a look of want crossed over Isgra’s face. It was the same look Volla used to give her. Volla’s face. Volla’s nose, Volla’s eyes, Volla’s lips . . .
Did Isgra taste the same as her sister did?
Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the tiny spark of lust she felt towards Kaiya Whitethorn, but Jia couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop herself. She had to know.
She moved forward, put her arms up around Isgra’s neck, and pressed her lips to Isgra’s. Isgra stiffened, and Jia expected her to shove Jia away, but instead Isgra’s arms slowly wrapped around her, bringing her closer, crushing Jia against her chest. Isgra’s tongue touched Jia’s lips and Jia opened her mouth. Isgra’s palm cupped the side of Jia’s face and she moaned as Jia stroked her tongue with her own.
They did. They tasted the same.
For a split second the lie felt so real, Jia believed it. Everything was right in the world again. Volla was back, kissing her like she meant to do it forever, wrapping her up in her arms. The hole in Jia’s heart no longer bled. She wasn’t in agony. She was with her love. Her soulmate. Her wife.
Isgra moaned again.
The sound was a lance to the illusion Jia had created. The tone was off, the sound just different enough that everything came crashing down around her. The memory that Volla was dead made Jia push her way out of Isgra’s arms, stumbling back. Tears filled Jia’s eyes and streamed down her cheeks as she lifted her fingers to her bottom lip. Isgra looked at her with lust and red-hot desire, until she took in Jia’s expression of horror, and her face morphed into a mask of pure rage.
Isgra took a step forward, murder in her eyes, but before Isgra could strike, Rorax and Kiniera were there. Kiniera pushed Jia back on her heels so hard she stumbled into Rorax, who enveloped her protectively in her arms and turned her away.
A burst of fire shot out bright and hot, but Jia reflexively extinguished it with a cloud of ice. There was screaming and yelling from everyone around them as the fire and ice displaced several party goers.
Isgra whispered menacingly at Jia, “If you touch me again, I will roast you from the inside out before Greywood can do anything to stop me. I don’t want Volla’s disgusting scraps. Now scuttle away back behind Greywood and Kulltoug where you belong.”
Then Isgra looked over at Rorax and pointed. “You told me that if I touched her, you’d kill me, Greywood. Keep her away from me. If she kisses me again, I’ll strangle her.”
Jia flinched, but her heart was already so frayed nothing else could hurt her. Instead, she suddenly felt angry. Volla was gone, and she had left Jia with her motherfucking sister. A sister who looked and tasted exactly the same but was so much less than her.
“That’s funny, Little Isgra,” Rorax taunted. “It looked like you were enjoying yourself, before she came to her senses.”
Isgra snarled at them. “Keep her away from me.”
“Come on.” Rorax pulled Jia’s arm, but Jia ripped it away.
“No. I’m staying. I need another drink.”