Chapter 29 The Bonfire #3
Pulling my gaze off Elysia Warrington and her mage, I glanced around at where we sat, taking stock of the entire area around the fire. Most of the chairs were full, like Voltaire had said, and I was surprised again by how many faces I didn’t know.
I glanced surreptitiously down the rows of magicked armchairs and couches.
There were even more tables and couches lined up behind us, which meant we were likely their primary view.
I glimpsed more of those creatures walking around, goblins, presumably, from what Bones had said.
They were squat and long-limbed, with squashed faces, green and blue skin, and large, bulbous eyes.
I was still staring at one as it handed drinks to two witches on a nearby couch, when the one Bones had motioned over returned, holding a tray with our drinks.
Bones handed me one of the tall, thin glasses filled with frothy pink liquid.
His glass contained what looked like a dark, dense, hard alcohol.
He saw me observing it and lifted another eyebrow.
“Want to try it, love?” he asked. “It’s a family blend.”
I took the glass from him, raised it to my lips cautiously, and took a medium-sized swallow. I promptly choked on it, pretty much the instant it hit my throat, and all the mages around me burst out in laughter, along with a few of the witches.
I handed the glass back to Bones, still coughing a little.
Voltaire’s voice was magnanimous, if deeply condescending.
“He loves burning the throats of his new witches,” the mammoth-sized mage said, winking at me, but with a friendly smile. “Bones is immune. He was raised on the stuff. His father owns the distillery on the coast of Scotland.”
I glanced at Bones and he smirked, holding up his glass with three fingers in a brief toast before he downed the entire contents in a series of swallows.
He let out a sharp exhale at the end, but otherwise didn’t change expression as he lowered his empty glass to the armrest. I saw him motion with it subtly to one of the goblins.
The blue-skinned creature bowed, took the empty glass, then immediately scurried off, presumably to fetch him another.
Leaning against his chest, I took a sip of the pink, frothy drink he’d given me first. It reminded me of champagne, at least what I remembered of champagne the one time I’d had it in Overworld. It was sweeter though, and the bubbles filled my nose.
“So is this one going to put on a show for us, like the one you had for Lá Bealtaine?” the older, dark-haired mage asked, sitting on a chair across from us when a different couple vacated it. Elysia Warrington squeezed in next to him, but continued to scowl at me and Bones.
“No,” Bones said, scoffing. “And you wish.”
“Why not?” Pants asked. He sat in the chair next to the older mage, where a witch, presumably his date, squeezed over to accommodate him. “You like the friendly ones, don’t you?”
“More like, they like him,” a different, auburn-haired mage grunted. “They like his bank account and title, anyway.”
“I bet this one could be friendly, we get a few more drinks in her.” Scar leered.
“Maybe Bones is sweet on her?” Norrick joked.
I saw his eyes on Bones’s free hand, however, which still rested on the chair’s arm.
Something in that stare made me tense.
Should I be doing more? I asked Bones. I aimed a smile at Norrick, then lifted the glass of pink drink to my lips. I should be doing more, shouldn’t I?
Bones lifted his hand from the chair and rested it on my knee. After a faint pause, he slid it higher on my leg. His fingers stroked the inside of my thigh, and I jumped for real.
Calm down, he thought at me. His other hand tightened on my hip.
And you can do whatever you want. I’ll only direct you if I think they’re getting suspicious.
Right now, they just think you’re shy. It’s somewhat strange for me, but not completely out of the realm of possibility, so don’t worry about it.
Just try not to grimace when I touch you.
I suppressed the impulse to roll my eyes. What would “not-shy” look like?
Don’t worry about it, Shadow.
I am going to worry about it, I retorted. I don’t want to do anything that will annoy you, but it’s pretty clear I’m not acting how your usual dates act––
You’re not going to annoy me, he cut in, impatient. I already said, do whatever you want. There are absolutely no limits to that.
You say that now.
I say that period, he warned. I’m not going to say no to anything, Shadow. And it’s true, the more you sexualize yourself, the more they’re likely to dismiss you in other respects. You can do whatever the fuck doesn’t cross your personal boundaries. It’s your call.
There was a silence while I thought about that.
I finished off the last of the pink fizzle as I did.
The rest of the royals had forgotten about me, thankfully, and had fallen into more ordinary conversation. So far, they weren’t talking about anything remotely Dark Cathedral-like. They talked about tomorrow’s costume ball, instead, and about their holiday plans.
That’ll come later, Bones murmured in my mind. The political talk. They’ll need to be drunker to start talking about it openly in front of someone they don’t know.
I bit my lip, but took a second pink fizzle off the tray when the goblin brought back new drinks for both of us, and for several of the other mages and witches.
I noticed about half the males were drinking hard alcohol.
I only halfway listened as Voltaire, Maskey, and the others began arguing about the upcoming Skyhunt match on Sunday.
The older mage now had his hand shoved between Warrington’s legs, and appeared to be fingering her right in front of us. She didn’t seem to mind. Her hand was massaging the front of his trousers as he pressed her into the couch for a kiss.
I jerked my eyes off them when a familiar name reached my ears.
“…Strangemore?” A tall mage with dark skin and straight black hair grunted, sitting up in one of the chairs on the other side of Voltaire and Maskey.
He handed a glass of amber-colored liquid to a witch with long auburn hair.
“Didn’t you hear? Fucker’s in the hospital.
Guess he pissed off more than the hybrid and her little friends. ”
I kept my expression still, even before Bones’s fingers tightened on my thigh in warning.
“When was this?” Pants asked, leaning forward in interest. “His father took him back to Scotland, didn’t he? Or was it Ireland?”
“Neither.” The new mage drank down a few swallows of his own drink, shaking his head.
“This was in London. I don’t know all the details, but he’s been in hospital at least a few weeks.
Whoever did it, they fucked him up pretty good.
There was some talk it was about a witch again.
Fucker always did have issues when it came to that, didn’t he?
I guess he finally messed with the wrong witch… or crossed the wrong mage. Or both.”
I felt my fingers curl tighter into Bones’s shirt.
For at least a few seconds, I didn’t hear anything the others said.
When I finally focused back on the conversation, they’d moved on to Skyhunt.
“…That annoying little prick, Strangemore, was good, though,” Voltaire was saying grudgingly.
He barely glanced at Warrington and the mage she was still snogging before looking back at Pants and the auburn-haired mage whose name I didn’t know.
“Figures that cunt hybrid would lose us our best player. She’s such an unbelievable cocktease…
I don’t blame Strangemore for losing patience with that particular slag.
But because she’s Forsooth’s favorite little kiss-ass, he gets thrown out for what any one of us would’ve done.
Meanwhile, she’s giving it up to that prancing idiot, Joran, every chance she gets. ”
Bones grunted but didn’t comment.
I looked down at him, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes.
Bones, I thought at him cautiously. Did you––
Not here, he cut in.
He took a long drink off the new Dragonfire he’d ordered, adjusting his weight in a deeper sprawl in the chair. The fingers of his free hand lazily traced over my bare leg, pausing to tug lightly on the edge of my skirt.
I fought to push thoughts of Strangemore out of my mind.
Honestly, I couldn’t say I was horrified, or even particularly bothered by the thought of him in hospital. My hypocrisy could only extend so far. I wasn’t proud of my reaction, but I couldn’t lie to myself about it, either.
It could mostly be summed up as “Good.”
Bones grunted, his fingers tightening on my leg. His eyes flickered up, meeting mine for a few seconds as he studied my expression. I saw him relax at whatever he saw there. Some of the defensiveness I’d felt on his magic began to dissipate, too.
Thank you, I thought at him quietly.
I laid a hand on his chest, and his eyes shifted away altogether.
I dusted off the last of the second pink fizzle, and set the empty glass down on the next tray that rotated by.
I saw Scar watching me again, his eyes shrewd where Bones lightly stroked my skin with his fingers.
His narrow, ratlike face remained aimed towards us, his dark eyes focused on Bones’s fingers.
I reached out carefully, lightly, the barest touch to his mind with my magic.
I immediately wished I hadn’t.
He’d been remembering a different night with Bones, with a different blonde kneeling between his legs, sucking him off right in front of Voltaire, Scar, Pants, and a few others.
I glimpsed Bones’s face, taut with concentration, probably to control his magic.
I heard laughter from the mages watching, especially Pants and Voltaire, and then, realizing what I was doing, I jerked out of Scar’s mind, keeping my expression still with an effort.
I looked away from the leanly muscular royal and his black goatee.
I didn’t try to read any more off him, but I could practically feel the puzzlement emanating from his sluggish magic. His mouth pursed as he stared at my hand resting lightly on Bones’s chest. He was wondering who I was.
He was wondering why Bones had brought me.
He’d never seen Bones with a witch who was so standoffish with him.
He was used to getting more of a show from Bones and his “dates.”
I bit my tongue, remembering what Bones had said, about why he brought witches to these things, the impression he wanted to leave with the other royals, and, in particular, the impression he wanted to reach his father.
Without saying a word, in his mind or outside of it, I slid the hand I’d left on his chest down the front of Bones’s body.
I didn’t let myself think about how he might react.