Chapter 21 #2
The musicians began to play a somber melody, and guests took to the dance floor.
Cercies beelined for his mate and asked her to dance.
Unable to conceal her excitement, she practically jumped into his arms, and they joined the rest of the couples on the candlelit floor.
She appeared to have forgiven him, and with that unspoken understanding, we let the earlier tension dissolve into the grandeur of the night.
The hundreds of candles had been burning for hours, yet hadn’t spilled a single drop of wax.
I observed the new mates and couldn’t help but smirk. Cercies clearly had no idea how to dance, but he made a good show of it. And Calpurnia—she glowed brighter than the sun.
I knew their future wasn’t clear, that there was a lot for them to work out and discuss, but tonight they could soak in each other and blissfully ignore the hindrances of the society they lived in. Rules and laws could wait because tonight was just for them.
The applause from the SkyGuard demonstration still lingered in the night air as the feast began to dissolve into smaller conversations across the castle balcony. Lanterns flickered against the polished stone, and below us the kingdom shimmered in scattered amber light.
I stood near the edge, watching the last embers fade into the dark sky when a presence stepped beside me.
“Lady Delilah.”
The voice was smooth and calculating.
I turned to find a tall Fire Fae male cloaked in a long crimson robe that pooled around his boots like spilled blood. Silver streaked his dark hair at the temples, and his amber eyes were sharp assessing.
“I am Caddver,” he said with a shallow bow. “Head of the Temple’s Council.”
So this was the head of the council that created those disgusting Holy Laws that carved into women’s bodies like they were property. My guard instantly went up.
When he smiled, my stomach tightened.
His teeth were yellowed and uneven. His gums were black and his smile never reached his eyes.
“It was a remarkable display,” he continued, gesturing toward the sky.
“Our High Lord enjoys reminding the realm of his power.”
There was something coiled behind his smile, something that felt like quiet plotting, and I knew better than to give him anything he could use against me, Titus, or my mission to return home.
“He doesn’t seem the type to need reminders,” I replied evenly.
Caddver’s gaze shifted back to me, eyes dipped to my chest, as if he were searching for something.
“Tell me, Lady Delilah… does such power impress you?” he asked lightly. “Or intimidate you?”
I thought about it for a moment before responding, “both, I suppose.”
A corner of his mouth twitched.
“And yet you remain here, at his side,” he pressed. “A mortal female, elevated to the High Lord’s balcony. That is no small position.”
I folded my hands calmly in front of me. “I’m a guest.” “Are you?” he asked softly.
His eyes dipped briefly to my neckline, then returned to my face.
“There are whispers,” he continued. “That the High Lord has taken… special interest in you.”
The night breeze lifted a strand of my hair across my cheek. I resisted the urge to step back.
“The High Lord takes interest in many things,” I replied.
Caddver stepped closer, his crimson robe brushing against the stone.
“And you?” he asked. “Do you take interest in him?”
The question hung in the air between us. His yellow teeth flashed again as he smiled.
“Power can be intoxicating to young females. Especially those unaccustomed to it.”
I held his gaze steadily and my heart thumped.
“My only interest in the High Lord,” I replied evenly, “is entirely self-motivated.”
Caddver’s brows lifted slightly in interest. “So you do not…care for the High Lord?”
The pause that followed felt dangerous, like a test I hadn’t agreed to take.
“No,” I answered, though it took effort to make it come out clean. Something dark and pleased flickered behind his eyes.
“How… refreshing,” he murmured. “Well, no matter, it seems as though you’ve caught the eye of a different powerful Fire Fae anyway,” he added, gesturing to the rose in my hand.
I glanced down at it, then back up at him, and replied with a warm smile, “So it seems.”
Heat gathered behind me. “That will be enough.”
Titus’s voice cut through the night air.
He stepped in beside me, not quite touching, yet near enough that his warmth curled around my back. The deliberate closeness sent a fine shiver up my spine. My skin prickled at the quiet dominance of it.
Caddver turned slowly.
“My Lord,” he said smoothly, bowing his head. “We were simply discussing—.”
“You were prying,” Titus interrupted, his tone calm but sharp as a blade. “Lady Delilah does not answer to the Temple.”
“Of course,” Caddver said lightly. “I merely wished to ensure her… comfort in our realm.”
His blackened gums showed again as he smiled.
Titus’s jaw tightened, but his expression remained controlled.
“The Temple concerns itself with Holy Law,” Titus said. “Not my personal affairs.”
“Everything involving the High Lord is the Temple’s affair,” Caddver replied softly.
For a moment, the lantern flames flickered violently in the breeze between them.
Then Caddver bowed once more.
“The Great Flame sees all truth eventually.”
His crimson robe swept behind him as he disappeared back into the feast.
The silence between Titus and me felt heavier than ever. He did not look at me immediately.
“Enjoying the company?” he asked coolly. “I was handling it,” I replied.
His gaze finally shifted to mine—searching, unreadable. There was a flicker there, brief, and unguarded, like a crack in tempered glass. Then the cold cruelty slid back into place, deliberate and precise.
“I heard enough,” he said quietly, then disappeared into the crowd.
And for the first time since Caddver approached, I wondered if I had just protected Titus…Or wounded him.
Just then, excitement erupted from the doors and rolled over the heads of the guests. I caught a glimpse of the feathered, dragon-horned helmet.
Aurelius had joined the party.
For a moment, the crowd parted, and he locked eyes with me. I leaned on the stone railing of the balcony, twirling the rose in my hand. I could tell he was trying to make his way over to me. Finally, he was within arm’s reach when Titus stopped him—as if he didn’t want Aurelius talking to me.
Aurelius turned his focus to the High Lord.
“Still doing the same old trick, I see,” Titus taunted haughtily.
Aurelius responded respectfully, but with just a pinch of superiority. “I switched it up at the end a little.” He looked to me and winked.
They both saw me blush uncontrollably. I couldn’t help it. I looked away and pretended to be distracted by the stone’s veining on the ledge.
I leaned against it when sparks grabbed my attention. They flickered around the High Lord for several moments, then disappeared. He placed a hand on Aurelius’s shoulder, congratulated him on his performance, and continued mingling with his guests.
To my dismay, Prisca had returned and stepped into Aurelius’s path, directly blocking my view. She forced him into what looked like a long, heated conversation, and a line began to form behind her. It seemed many guests wanted to congratulate the Master of Dragons tonight.
Annoyed, I checked on my friend, but I could no longer spot her on the dance floor.
They must’ve given up on dancing. I’d witnessed her face pinch in pain a few times when the General stepped on her feet.
I watched them cross the balcony to a sitting area with a bonfire.
She cuddled up close to him, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. I’d never seen him smile so much.
Titus must have been nearby because his loud, ostentatious voice cut through other conversations as if his was the only one that mattered. I overheard him speaking with captains about leaving in the morning for the Kingdom of Terrain—with the mortal.
I furrowed my brow and dropped my jaw. The nerve of that male!
It didn’t take me long to weave through the guests to find him. I tapped his hand for attention. He flinched and pulled away as if I were a rabid dog. He stepped back too fast, like closeness was a trigger.
“Excuse me? When were you going to tell me about leaving? And what about the mission—getting me home?” I demanded.
He glared, implying his disapproval of my disrespect. “Would you excuse us for a moment, captains,” he requested smoothly.
The captains nodded and walked away. He placed his hand firmly on my shoulder and pushed me to the balcony railing, then turned my body forcefully to face him. A wicked darkness came over his expression.
“Listen here, human,” he said. “When males speak, you don’t interrupt. Do it again, and I’ll cut out your tongue.”
His words were violent and heated, yet I found it odd that no flames spewed from him. I decided not to cower. I had a feeling his behavior was for show.
“You were talking about taking me somewhere without even asking me,” I shot back.
He narrowed his fiery eyes, then shifted his attention to the rose in my hand. A muscle in his jaw flicked, and I could have sworn I saw flecks of fire roll from his shoulders.
He pinched the stem of my rose and slowly incinerated it—just as he’d done to my clothes in his lounge—as if he knew watching it burn in slow motion would hurt more.
He held my gaze while I watched in horror: the beautiful flower wilted and crumbled, petals crisping from bright red to dusty black until all that remained was a small handful of ash.
When he burned it, it felt less like anger… and more like possession.
Just when I thought he couldn’t be any more despicable, he spoke.
“I do not have to ask you. You are nothing to me. A puny ant I could crush with one finger.” His voice dropped lower. “I do not answer to you, human. You answer to me. You obey me. So be ready to leave at dawn. Is that clear?”
I held my hand over the railing and watched the ashes fall into the wind.