Chapter 35
The ballroom falls silent the second we step inside. Every single soul is eager for this depraved spectacle to begin.
Except for the participants.
Leto’s hand tightens around mine as we follow Hali. The chandelier’s crystals glitter like sharp teeth above our heads as we weave through the large crowd.
Eyes track us, one stare after another.
Someone gasps.
The whispers start.
Anticipation hovers in the air. My palms grow sweaty.
Leto’s grip tightens. I glance at the fire wielder. He gives me a flirty wink. Those who see squeal in delight.
I smile weakly and squeeze his hand back.
There will be no peace for me until this contest is over and my time in Virendrell ends. Until I end Darius’s curse, and I can reunite with my sister.
Oh, is that all?
Inwardly, I scoff, but I call on my experience as a healer and school my features.
No matter what anyone around me says or does, I am determined not to react.
I will go along with this contest. For Leto. For Hali.
For every soul who wishes to escape Virendrell with her, I will play my part.
And I pray to the Gods that I do it well.
The crowd becomes denser as we draw closer to the front of the ballroom.
It isn’t until a group of young men wearing clothing resembling a soldier’s uniform, albeit fancier with shiny gold buttons and fitted seams, parts that I see why.
An elevated dais stands at the end of the ballroom. And seated on top of it, overlooking the sprawling crowd, are Augustus and Helen.
The likeness to the Elders in Verdanthia’s town hall is impossible to ignore.
I’ve gone from facing one oppressive group of leaders to another. I can’t help but wonder if this is the way of the world everywhere.
When this is all over, is there anywhere Ferria and I can go and actually be free?
Free to be openly part Fae.
Free to wield our power.
Free to just be.
My heart thumps in time with my footsteps as Leto and I move closer to the dais.
A looming landscape portrait depicting a stunning cliffside overlooking the ocean hangs on the wall. I trace the cresting waves and the treetops on the land with my eyes.
The beauty of Virendrell is undeniable. It’s too bad it’s only surface deep.
A tingling sensation pricks my cheek. I drop my gaze and find Augustus and Helen watching me. Their expressions are unreadable. A check confirms my own mask remains in place.
Leto guides me to a stop just four feet in front of the dais, where the crowd has left open space. Hali stands to our left. A handsome man has moved to her side. Based on the matching hue of his purplish-pink toga, I surmise he is her partner for the contest.
Another couple sidles up on our right. I recognize the man as Gerald, the water wielder who made an impressive lily ice sculpture in the second contest. Only, despite Anders’s assumptions that Helen would dictate his victory, that honor went to Hali and her birdcage.
Gerald’s victory came during the maze contest at the mayor’s country estate. Aside from Rian, he escaped the dangerous hedges in the quickest time, earning him a place in this final contest. In this spectacle.
The woman at his side is petite, shorter than most women I’ve seen in Virendrell. Matching circlets gleam on their left wrists, the polished silver standing out against the crimson bangles that complement their attire. They’re married.
I purse my lips.
Is that an advantage when trying to seduce Jason and Daphne?
Or will their marital status make it harder for them to entice another couple?
I guess I’m about to discover how strong part-Fae marriages in Virendrell are.
A trio of bells chimes behind me. The ballroom falls silent.
Augustus rises from a chair that can only be compared to a throne. The carved back and arms are painted gold, and the velvet cushions look plush and expensive.
He wears a medallion that reminds me of the one that identifies Anders as the palace healer. Only, the mayor’s is adorned with quite a few more jewels and diamonds.
With a glance, I note the sapphires dripping down Helen’s throat, resting on her cleavage. Matching bracelets cover her forearms from wrist to elbow.
Everything about their display screams opulence and royalty, not the subtlety I’d expect from an elected official.
“Welcome, contestants.” Augustus’s voice carries over our heads.
His eyes travel down the line of us before they shift to take in the crowd. His smile brightens.
“And to every Virendrellian citizen, thank you for being here to honor my son and his beloved bride!”
He throws his arm out to the side. Jason and Daphne appear from a doorway tucked along the right wall.
Loud, enthusiastic claps and cheers echo in my ears.
The couple stuns in all white. Daphne’s gown flows around her legs. Diamonds hang from her neck and adorn a delicate headpiece placed into her long, curly hair. She looks angelic. At her side, Jason is all masculinity, with a sharp jawline and toned arms on display in his pristine toga.
Augustus beams at the crowd, not even glancing at his son and future daughter-in-law as they move to join him on the dais.
The mayor extends a hand.
The skirt of Helen’s dark-blue gown shimmers like starlight as she steps to her husband’s side, placing her delicate fingers in his.
Her smile is subdued, demure. She pretends she is deferential to her husband, as if she isn’t the instigating force behind one of the more horrific abuses of power from a leader that I’ve heard of.
“Betrothal contests are an honored tradition among our people,” Augustus continues, “and it touches my soul to know they will continue on with the next generation.”
Leto huffs so softly I almost miss it.
“Tomorrow, my son and Daphne will wed.” The mayor’s lips twist into a smirk. “But not before they endure one last bout of temptation.”
Raucous laughter and instigating whoops rise into the air.
Leto’s fingers flex, but he wears an easygoing smile.
Helen clears her throat delicately.
“Marriages are not to be entered into lightly,” she says. “To vow to love and cherish another for all the days of your life is no small matter. It is a union that should not be undertaken without the strictest of forethought. For a union, once forged, cannot be unmade.”
Murmurs of agreement follow.
I risk a glance at Hali. Unlike Leto, she does not hide her displeasure.
Her jaw is clenched, and her body is rigid. The handsome man at her side peers at her from the corner of his eye, lips pinched.
If Gerald is upset, he hides his emotions well. But his petite wife wilts under the room’s attention. She inches closer to her husband, as if he can shield her from scrutiny.
“Tonight”—Augustus’s booming voice reclaims my attention—“we have three of Virendrell’s strongest wielders.
They have used their Mother-given gifts and incomparable skills to honor the betrothed couple in their contests.
Tonight, they will be charged with testing the strength of this impending union. ”
A series of hoots and cheers interrupts the speech.
The mayor doesn’t mind. From the gleam in his eyes, I’d say he enjoys it.
My skin itches.
I turn my head, and I am immediately ensnared by a pair of volatile, stormy-gray eyes.
Rian stands to the left of the dais, wearing a midnight-black tunic and trousers in the same style he wore on the continent.
His inky-black hair is swept away from his face, and dark stubble covers his jawline. The tailored cut of his clothing accentuates his broad torso and muscular thighs.
The Virendrellians gathered near him give him a wide berth, as if sensing the dangerous predator in their midst.
Draven, Silas, and Darius stand a step behind their prince, also wearing their own attire and not the toga-style gifted to them by the mayor. Though, theirs is a charcoal gray, as if they attempted to honor Virendrellians and their love of vibrant colors.
Augustus drones on about this final contest. I should focus and learn what I can expect beyond a sensuous dance with the man at my side.
But my gaze slides back to meet Rian’s.
The marks on my arms creep from elbow to wrist and back again, like a beast pacing in a cage, waiting to be released. In contrast, the power in my chest purrs.
Then a jeweled hand lands on Rian’s bicep, and my light magic hisses.
Iris shifts closer to Rian’s side.
Where in the hells did she even come from?
A midnight-black gown hugs her curvaceous figure, allowing her to blend in among the Shadow Fae.
Rian tilts his head as Iris leans in.
Her chest presses into his arm, and her lips brush his earlobe as she whispers something in his ear.
A screech tries to claw up my throat.
Mine.
I can’t tell where the possessive thought comes from—the darkness binding me to my deal with Rian or my own magic.
But it doesn’t matter.
I struggle to control the liquid fire coursing through my muscles and bones, weaving its way to the surface, desperate to be unleashed and punish Iris for her bold touch.
Get it together, Elara!
I tear my gaze away and tighten my hold on Leto’s hand, locking eyes with Darius.
The heat cools in my veins.
Darius’s gray pallor has worsened, exaggerated by the charcoal clothing he wears. The curse is destroying his body, but he doesn’t look worried.
The Fae’s eyes dart between me and the prince, irises twinkling, and he shoots me a knowing smirk.
I press my lips together to hide my scowl and force my attention back to the dais.
Rian’s stare burns into the side of my face, but I don’t look his way again.
A loud clap pierces my ears.
“Now.” Augustus lowers his hands, brown eyes gleaming. “Let us begin.”
A swish of fabric draws my gaze to the right.
A server wearing a simple, solid blue gown glides to our row in front of the dais. She carries a gleaming silver serving tray in her hands. Six shot glasses are filled to the brim. The pale-pink liquid barely shifts with her graceful steps.
She stops in front of Hali and her partner.
With a huff, Hali reaches out and retrieves two glasses. She hands one to her friend. He mutters something into her ear that earns a flicker of a smile. The two clink their glasses together and then pour the contents down their throats in one swallow.
Applause breaks out from the crowd.
A tingle of warning ripples down my spine.
The servant approaches us next.
Leto releases my hand and takes two glasses from the tray. “Thank you.”
The servant ducks her head and blushes. Her steps to Gerald are a little less graceful.
“For you.” Leto holds out the glass.
I take it. My fingers press against the ridges carved into the thick crystal. “What is it?”
“Something to take the edge off.” His grin is more like a grimace. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”
Nothing about this situation is fine.
“Do I have a choice?” I murmur.
A shadow passes over his features. “No.”
I figured.
I bite my tongue and nod.
He taps his glass against mine and exhales. “Here we go.”
He tosses back the drink. More shouts and laughter rise around us.
I scan his face, waiting for a reaction. None comes.
Leto wipes his mouth then looks meaningfully at my glass.
I sigh and repeat his words, “Here we go.”
Rian’s stare is as hot as the fire in Ferria’s forge as I tip my head back and bring the crystal glass to my lips.
An explosion of sweetness detonates on my tongue. My eyes widen and my brain short-circuits as my taste buds adapt to the delicious pink drink.
I bring my fingertips to my tingling lips and stare at Leto. “Wow. That’s incredible.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t cover up his wince. “Just wait.”
Wait for what?
I immediately forget the question as delectable warmth follows the path of the pleasing drink that flowed down my throat.
The delightful sensation travels through my blood, but the scorching heat burning the side of my face prevents me from enjoying it.
Eyes narrowed, I swing my head, determined to level Rian with a fierce glare that makes him cease his staring.
I’m met with a dark, foreboding expression that, for a beat, makes my heart stop.
Rian’s nostrils flare. His canines slip past his bottom lip, but they aren’t at their full length. It’s like he’s fighting their descent.
He’s angry.
How dare he be angry with me.
I grind my teeth together.
I have done nothing wrong. He has zero right to look at me like that.
Iris shifts closer to Rian. My eyes dart to hers. The haughty tilt of her head makes me see red.
Before I can think of what to do to wipe that look off her face, a pulse of heat shoots straight to my core.
My knees go weak. “Oh my Gods!”
“Careful.” Leto takes my arm and helps hold me upright.
Desire, hot, relentless, and all-consuming radiates from his touch. It glides along my skin, crawls down my torso, and joins the heat that’s accumulated in my core.
Leto steps close.
I look up and inhale sharply.
His cheeks are flushed, and his pupils are blown wide. His fingertips trail up my arms.
I shiver. “What’s going on?”
From the corner of my eye, I note a different server distributing the pink drink to Jason and Daphne, but no one else.
Music swells from an unseen orchestra.
“The contest.” Leto licks his lips and moves his hands down my back, drawing me into his arms. “It’s starting.”
My covered breasts press against his firm chest. My nipples harden, and I bite my bottom lip to hold back a moan.
My magic surges wildly beneath my skin, feeding the unbearable heat unfurling through my body.
Recognition slams into me, followed swiftly by horror.
The effects of the drink take root.
Gods save me…
I’m in heat.