Chapter 1 #2
Sterling lifts an annoyingly cocky brow. “Dancing in the middle of a crowded ballroom and leading the dance are two entirely different things. It can be a little nerve-racking when all eyes are on you.”
“Then by all means, let’s practice.” I slide off the table and extend one hand toward him while the other poises to rest on his shoulder. The opening stance of the first dance we shared.
“What’s this? No arguing? Compliance?” Sterling’s surprise lasts only a moment before he sweeps into the space I’ve created. He wraps his fingers around mine and molds his other palm to the small of my back. “You’re full of surprises, my queen.”
I toss him a wink as we begin. “Someone has to keep you on your toes.”
We glide across the floor together, maneuvering between the tables. We dance like we’re made for each other, just like we did at the ball Tirene’s late king threw in my “honor.”
My nose wrinkles. Honor. Please. More like a way for Jasper to flaunt his “prophesied dragoncaller.” Ignoring the fact he planned to use me, breed me, and keep me captive to bolster his standing.
That feels like a lifetime ago.
Sterling draws me closer than necessary, and I suck in a breath as warmth blooms beneath my skin. Dancing with him is like making love upright with our clothes on. There’s something about the way our bodies communicate without words…the push and pull, the give and take.
As Sterling leads me through a spin, my hips graze against his.
His pulls me flush to his body, and his eyes become molten. “Keep teasing me like that, and that gown will wind up shredded. You’ll have to do the walk of shame back to our chambers naked after I spend the next hour worshipping every inch of your delectable body.”
My lungs hitch, the heat in my cheeks mirroring the fire in his gaze. I stand on the tips of my toes and brush my lips across the corner of his mouth. “Tempting as that sounds, do you really want to subject the poor guard to that? He’s right outside the door. Besides, we have more gifts to open.”
Breaking away from the prescribed steps, I drag my fingers along his chest and circle him leisurely.
A feral growl escapes his lips. “I don’t give a fuck who hears us. You should know by now that the only gift I care about is you.”
My heart melts, and happiness blossoms in my chest. For these precious moments, the weight of the crown lifts, and I can temporarily set aside the responsibilities of repairing our shattered kingdom.
There is only Sterling, the feel of his hands, the press of his body against mine, the softness of his lips.
“You always know just what to say to make me fall in love with you all over again.”
He catches my hand, spinning me in circles until I’m wrapped in his arms and pinning me with his devious smirk. “Would it ruin the moment to say that you’re also the only gift I care about unwrapping?”
His husky voice thwarts my attempt to fake offense. As we drift across the room, sharing slow, hungry kisses along the way, his sultry eyes mesmerize me. His hand tightens around my waist, and I’m certain he’s going to set me up on a table again, spread my legs, and make good on his promise.
Sterling bump-guides me up against one of the tables near the high window, the gentle impact disturbing the piles of presents. His tongue finds that sensitive spot just below my ear, and I tilt my head to give him better access as my hands clutch at his shoulders.
Something tumbles off the table and drops at our feet with a soft thud.
He pauses, his breath hot against my neck. “What was that?”
I glance down and spot a plain package on the floor, wrapped in brown paper and tied with simple twine. No ribbons, no gold leaf, no official wax seal. Its simplicity stands out amid the ornate wrappings of other presents.
I reluctantly pull away from Sterling to bend and pick up the gift. “I don’t remember seeing this one.”
The package is heavier than I expect and about the size of a bread loaf. I find no card or note to identify the sender.
Sterling frowns. “That shouldn’t be here if it hasn’t been checked by security.”
“Maybe it was.” I turn the gift over in my hands. “Maybe they just failed to rewrap it in fancy paper.”
“Lark…” Sterling’s voice holds a warning, but curiosity has already gotten the better of me.
I pull at the twine, and the brown paper falls away, revealing a wooden box with intricate carvings along the edges. The lid slides open with a gentle push of my fingers.
Inside, nestled in black velvet, rests a bizarre artifact made of crystal and silver. It resembles a star caught in mid-explosion, the brilliant central sphere surrounded by delicate silver filaments that extend outward, each tipped with smaller crystals of varying sizes.
The way the light sparkles through the luminous object enthralls me. “What is it?”
Sterling leans closer, his shoulder brushing mine. “Some kind of art piece, maybe? At least it doesn’t look like a bird.”
I reach in and carefully lift the artifact from the velvet nest. The box must be heavy because the object itself is almost weightless in my palm. The crystals capture and fracture the sunlight streaming through the window into multicolored prisms that waltz across our faces.
My breath catches. “It’s beautiful.”
As I turn it to examine the craftsmanship, my finger accidentally brushes against a tiny silver lever hidden among the filaments. There’s a soft click, followed by a musical tone so pure it vibrates through my bones.
Sterling and I exchange a glance, his wary, mine intrigued.
He starts to caution me. “Lark—”
The air overhead shimmers like heat rising from summer stones.
A crack appears in the empty space, and hundreds of narrow, diamond-bright waterfalls tumble out.
They cast glittering rainbows across the room as they cascade down, yet nothing gets wet.
Like ghosts, the streams pass through solid objects—tables, gifts, our outstretched hands—and vanish just before they touch the floor.
“Sterling,” I whisper, unable to summon more words. My pulse gallops in my neck.
Is this like the visions I had in the Lost City? The ones containing a memory of the past that replayed in the present?
We stand transfixed, watching prisms flow from nowhere, surrounded by the gentle tinkling of distant wind chimes.
Sterling’s hand finds mine and squeezes tight. His face, illuminated by the radiance of the falling streams, is a mask of shock that must mirror my own, his lips set in a grim line. “I think we need to figure out who sent that to us.”
I kneel to pick up one of the crystals. “What the…? It doesn’t make any sense, but I’m pretty sure these are real diamonds.”
Sterling crouches and holds a stone as large as his thumbnail up to the light. “I think you’re right.”
Our eyes meet across the glittering floor, and his expression reflects my own growing bewilderment and nagging discomfort.
Something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong.
Three figures huddle in a circle in a stone chamber while the air around them thickens with palpable energy and ancient power. Shadows play along the walls, shifting and flowing like ghosts haunting the halls and attempting to cling to the threads of existence.
The figures gaze down at the silvery pool of water. Images slither through the depths, visions of things that are, were, and could possibly be. A myriad of potential outcomes, of rippling destinies that could intertwine with the lives of mortals.
The first figure, draped in a robe of deep indigo, hovers close to the pool’s edge. He presses his palm flat against the surface, and a cascade of silver light bursts forth. “It is part of the pattern.”
The second figure, garbed in shimmering white and tendrils of soft golden light, trails slender fingers through the liquid, disrupting the waters of what was. Scenes from the past emerge. Flashes of wars, love, betrayal.
“It has happened before.” The second one’s voice, though gentle, is heavy with a sense of history and experience.
The third entity studies the pool’s contents. Her features twist with determination.
Her eyes smolder like coals, piercing through the surface into the depths of potential futures. “It will change nothing.”
A thick, ancient silence stretches, broken only by the faint rippling of the water beneath their spectral forms.
Each god, a fragment of the cosmos, contemplates the events unfolding below. The mortal negotiations caught in the balance of unseen whims and twisted fates.
The pool stirs anew. Visions dance and flicker before them, reflecting the point in time where possibilities loom near.
The first being steps back. “This is not our concern. We must not interfere.”
Another silence follows as the waters continue to stir.