55
The Crack of Dawn
Blair
Oh, my old gods, music. How much I’ve missed this.
Missed every day without music since I left the human world.
Why the heck had I never considered that there might be bars and clubs or whatever this is here in Avandal?
And who’s got the gorgeous, haunting voice that chases all the darkness out of my soul?
I’ve been so lost to this voice, to this music, that I haven’t even bothered looking.
I almost choke on my own saliva when I spot damn fucking Meanara of all people on that stage.
Wait. What? The healer of Avandal? And what is she wearing? Oh my gods.
My gaze snares on that…thing that’s clinging to her body.
Granted, sexy thing, but still. It’s showing her nipples, for the Abyss’s sake.
And when she turns to walk off the stage, I can see that it’s cut so low in the back that just a little more and I’d be seeing her freaking perfect butt and…
the crack of dawn. Is she not wearing underwear? Wait a second.
All of a sudden, all music is forgotten, and I scramble after her, my heels clicking over the dance floor. I trail her scent and find myself in front of an inconspicuous-looking door that probably leads off to the staff rooms.
Without another thought, I barge through, catching her and the few other women talking and giggling in a mirrored room that smells of powder and perfume.
“Blair. This is our wardrobe. Would you mind if we talked later?” Meanara says gently, in that well-mannered way of hers, clearly confused by me storming in here like a ram.
I just cross my arms. “Yeah, well, I actually would. Don’t you have any dignity? I mean, wearing a thing like that? Aren’t you the, like, world-famous healer?”
Meanara looks at me as if I’d just slapped her across her achingly beautiful face. Her pink eyes narrow at me. “And?”
I scowl at the women around her, and at my snarl, they all scatter out of the room, clearly getting the message that no one messes with a witch.
“Well, for someone who’s so prudish and uptight and makes a thing of not screwing around, you’re running around pretty naked. Not really practicing what you’re preaching, are you?”
Meanara mimics my posture and crosses her arms, but the gesture seems more angry than modest, and that makes me even more furious, for a reason I can’t quite comprehend. Am I overreacting? Maybe.
Probably.
No. Clearly .
Will I acknowledge it? Hells no. I mean, how dare she?
“Where did you get the idea that I don’t share someone else’s bed from time to time, Blair?”
Her answer is like a blow to the gut.
“What? I mean, aren’t you, like, celibate or anything? Married to your profession?” I snap. “Isn’t that what you preach to your healer-students all day and all night?”
“First, I am not married to anyone or anything. And second, I’ve never bowed to anyone or anything, and certainly not to the old ways, and I don’t encourage my students to do so either.
Which is the main reason for Beeatrisa’s and my deeply rooted dispute, if you must know.
So I really don’t see what is wrong with my dress. ”
“I can almost see your butt crack—that dress is so low. And no underwear.”
“Would you rather see my underwear?” she asks back flatly.
“Under the right circumstances, but certainly not here, on a stage!” I seethe, too late realizing what I just said. What the hells?
Meanara frowns at me, then she gestures for the door. “Please, Blair. If you would be so kind as to leave now. My girls and I would like to take a break and then get back up on that very stage. We can talk later.” What does she mean— my girls ?
She walks past me, clearly planning to open the door and beckon those girls back inside.
Instead, I grab her wrist. “Oh hells no, healer.” I wrench her closer, my hand closing around her slender wrist and pulling with so much force she almost stumbles into me. And for the first time since I’ve known her, Meanara’s lips peel back to reveal her fae canines.
“You are hurting me, Blair Alaric. Hurt me again, witch, and see how that goes.”
“That a challenge?” I bite back, pulling her even closer so we’re sharing breath, and her spring-and-summer smell wraps around me in a halo.
“A promise.”
“As if you could do anything about it,” I mock.
Something dark flashes through her eyes, quick as a thought. I can’t be sure it was real, because when she blinks, they’re pink again, untouched by the shadow I swear I saw.
“Hmmm, I thought so…” I purr, my other hand shooting out to touch a necklace around her throat. A tiny blue heart. It looks like a cheap copy of the heavy red one on a golden chain I swept from her room. “What is this? Who gave you this?”
She slaps me, and like the last time, I never saw it coming. Gods, how is this woman so fast?
“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you like me slapping you, Blair, for all the times you stick your nose in things that are none of your business.
But if you truly must know—it was a gift from my students.
Because my real necklace was stolen. It was the only thing I had left from my brother, and it almost broke my heart to lose it.
And now I truly encourage you to take your leave of this room, or I’ll have to call the guards. ”
Her tone is icy, yet her words crack me open. What? The necklace I stole and sold like a cheap trinket was from her brother? Every time my conscience gnawed at me, I shoved it down, because I’d assumed it was from an admirer. And now, I just depressed myself.
I take a step back, watching her as she turns to adjust her matching blue earrings in a mirror, that deep V of her dress mocking me.
She raises her brows at me, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror, as if to challenge me all over again.
I snarl, but turn away and stalk out, slamming the door shut behind me so hard it almost falls out of its hinges.