Chapter 51 Irena
IRENA
I try. I really do. But no matter how I tug or twist or shimmy this ridiculous dress, I can’t get it to cover both my nipples and my… everything else… at the same time.
When I lean forward, the bodice gapes open and my breasts nearly fall out.
When I pull the top up to hide them, the front slit lifts high enough to show the thatch of curls between my thighs.
The lace is too sheer, the cut too obscene, and to make matters worse, I have no undergarments on.
No shift, no chemise, no panties. Not even a corset I could lace tighter.
Just this frothy, inappropriate gown clearly designed by someone who’s never heard the word modesty.
Valen is no help at all. He keeps stealing glances at me as we descend the spiral stairs behind Horatio, the massive black knight whose silence now feels knowing.
Smug, even. He is dressed for dinner in an outfit much like the one Valen has on.
Clearly the Lady of Thornmere has her own taste and she expects everyone else to follow her style.
The hallway we walk through is impossibly long and smooth, carved straight through the heart of the enormous tree.
Faint golden light glows from the walls themselves, which throb and pulse like living bark.
A subtle floral scent hangs in the air—but it’s not quite natural. I find it too sweet—almost cloying.
I can’t stop shifting the lace higher on my thighs.
My nipples still feel swollen and tender—kissed into aching attention by those damn bath flowers.
And worse, between my legs—Goddess help me—I’m slick with desire.
As if they left honey deep inside me that Valen couldn’t quite get out. As if I’m still in need.
Valen notices my scent—I can see his nostrils flaring. I remember him telling me he could smell it when I was lying—clearly he can smell my desire too, which feels shameful because it’s something I can’t control.
I can see how it affects him in the tautness of his jaw and the way his eyes move over my thighs…my breasts…my flushed face. And I can see it most clearly in the front of his tight black trousers. He’s trying to be discreet, but the long, hard bulge there is impossible to miss.
My cheeks heat and my heart pounds in my chest as I remember what he said after the bath. About his tongue…about healing me with it. I clench my thighs together, a pulse fluttering low in my belly as I think of how that would feel…
I give myself a mental shake.
No. Absolutely not. That’s too far. Even thinking about it is—
“Here we are,” Horatio rumbles, stopping before a set of enormous doors carved with curling thorns and coiling vines. He pushes them open, and I forget everything else.
The banquet hall is vast.
It stretches out in every direction like the grand ballroom of some enchanted palace.
Above us, a canopy of branches arches high overhead, woven together with living leaves and strands of flowers shedding gold and silver light.
The walls shimmer faintly with luminous moss.
And the long oval table in the center is huge—it could seat sixty, I estimate—maybe more.
How can all this fit inside a single tree?
Magic must be the explanation. Either that, or the tree is a hundred times larger than it appeared from the outside.
At the head of the table sits the Sorceress.
Lady Thornmere wears a gown of deep crimson velvet, her dark hair twisted high and adorned with jeweled thorns. As before, there are slits in the fabric that show her breasts and nipples clearly—so at least I’m not the only one who’s on display.
Her expression is amused—radiant with smug delight. To her right, her other husbands lounge in their chairs—the red knight and the green What were their names again? Darrin and Fenric, I think. Both are dressed like Horatio and Valen in tight, flattering clothing that shows off their muscles.
Horatio pulls out the chair to the Sorceress’s left and nods to me.
“My Lady…”
“Thank you,” I say, sitting carefully.
I glance at Valen, but he gives a small shrug as he takes the seat beside mine.
Then Horatio ducks under the table.
I blink in surprise—what in the world? He just…disappears under the tablecloth. I hear the soft rustle of the cloth and the hush of breath, and then… silence.
I stare, but no one else seems surprised.
“Welcome, my dear,” the Sorceress says to me warmly. “Don’t you look ravishing.”
I lift my chin.
“Thank you. I appreciate the, er, selection of dresses.” I do not say anything about the lack of underclothes because it’s apparent the Lady of Thornmere doesn’t believe in wearing them.
“I trust you had a relaxing bath?” she inquires, arching one perfectly shaped eyebrow at me.
I hesitate. I don’t want to offend our hostess, but I’m still a bit shaken. I just can’t let what happened in the bathtub go.
“It would have been relaxing,” I say carefully, “if the vines and flowers hadn’t attempted to molest me.”
Lady Thornmere blinks, eyes widening.
“Oh, they did?”
“Yes, they did,” I say more firmly. “It was most shocking.”
However, she looks anything but shocked.
“But my dear, they couldn’t have done anything unless you activated them,” she says, laughing lightly.
“Activated them? How?” I demand.
“Why, by speaking the runes on the side of the tub aloud, of course.” Her eyes glitter. “My, you must have strong magic if you were able to activate them.”
I think back and remember that I did read the runes out loud—how stupid of me!
I feel like an idiot.
“So,” the Sorceress continues, smiling sweetly, “Did they pleasure you well? I trust they did. The flowers in my bath are always very thorough.”
My face flames.
“Oh, um…”
“They did an excellent job,” Valen says smoothly, saving me. “I tried them myself.”
“Well then, I’m so pleased you were both satisfied. And now—let us feast!”
Lady Thornmere claps her hands once, and—
The feast appears.
It’s so sudden I let out a very unladylike squeak of surprise. One moment the table is bare…and the next, it’s overflowing.
The scents hit me first—roasted meats…sharp spices…caramelized sugar. There’s also something floral and smoky and intoxicating. I blink at the spread in stunned fascination.
There’s a roast beast at the center—something that looks like a boar, but its skin is flecked with golden scales, and the meat glistens red-gold in the candlelight. The scent is heavenly—rosemary, citrus, and something earthy and faintly sweet.
Beside it is a massive platter of buttered root vegetables—beets, parsnips, and orange tubers I don’t recognize—all dusted with herbs and what looks like powdered crystals that might be sugar or salt or both. They steam gently, the scent rich and savory.
There’s a basket of what look like muffins—but when I lift one, it shifts in my hand like jelly. They’re soft—almost quivering—and smell like cinnamon and rosewater. I set it down quickly.
There are tall glasses filled with pale blue bubbling wine that emits a cool mist. Valen tastes his and nods in appreciation. I take a sip and find that the bubbles tickle my nose.
Farther down the table, I spy something alarming—a wriggling dish of silver noodles that shimmer and twitch like they’re still alive. I immediately pretend I didn’t see it and hope the Sorceress doesn’t offer me any.
Valen, naturally, tries everything.
He piles his plate high, takes a bite of the roast beast and nods with approval. He pops one of the shimmering muffins into his mouth, then washes it down with the chilled blue wine. He even likes the silver noodles.
“This is incredible,” he mutters, already going back for seconds.
I’m more cautious. I try a slice of roast—the flavor explodes on my tongue, rich and tangy with a hint of orange blossom.
I nibble a sugared tuber and am rewarded with a slow burn of heat and spice.
But I leave the noodles. I also refuse the wriggling pudding that appears later, blinking once with an embedded eyeball.
Magic or not, I don’t want to eat something that can see me biting into it.
The Sorceress nibbles the various dishes and watches me throughout with a smile that’s far too knowing.
She’s enjoying this—I can tell. She likes watching my reaction to the food and enjoys watching me squirm in my dress. She also likes watching Valen devour the food.
I wonder what her game is—maybe it’s time to find out.