29. Nahomie
Nahomie
“Hear me out.”
I threw a leg over Tassarion’s thigh, leaning back into the pillows of the plush velvet couch. The king raised a brow, already apprehensive about what I was going to say.
“I don’t like the sound of this,” whispered Obsidian from his perch in the lair's corner.
Bones snorted. No one breathing knew me better than my cinderwolf.
He knew exactly where I was going.
“Neither do I, Obi,” mumbled Tassarion.
“Hush!” I raised a finger. “Now, listen.” I raised my hands, signifying caution. “Hear me out.” I grinned like a fiend. “Let’s throw a masquerade.” I paused for dramatic effect. “This twinight.”
“Rot,” Tassarion groaned, throwing his head back.
Obsidian huffed before clapping his hand against his forehead.
Bones lay in his corner, licking his paws, cackling to himself.
“Roièssa can’t be serious.”
“She, in fact, is very serious, Obi.”
“More serious than the dead, actually,” Bones chimed in cheerfully.
I crossed my arms, ignoring their protests. I wouldn’t be denied.
This blasted manor was overdue for some pomp and enjoyment.
“Do not deny me,” I said indignantly, glaring at Tassarion.
The king tilted his head. He bobbed his foot, the motion jiggling my leg over his thigh. He could think for as long as he wanted. I wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“No.”
“Not an option.”
“No.”
“I’m not repeating myself.”
“It’s too dangerous, Everheart.”
“I don’t care. You’re you. You’ll keep us safe.”
“By the Infinite, Nahomie. Why are you so rotting stubborn?”
“Stop deflecting and just say yes!”
Tassarion rubbed his eyes, leaning his head back against a pillow.
His bare chest was an open invitation, but I refused to touch him, knowing I wouldn’t be able to stop.
Seven dawns had come and gone since our picnic on the beach.
Since he’d moved me from Roièssa Clarèssa’s chambers to the lair.
Seven dawns went by with me starting the dawn on this couch eating firstfast while pushing him to bring some life into the manor.
I got him to budge on letting me open windows, drapes, brightening the ethèrlamps, and playing music in the halls.
I’d bided my time before dropping the idea of a masquerade.
Truthfully, this was going better than I thought it would.
“I’m not bringing Vainyens back into the manor, Emélie. It’s dangerous.”
Tassarion sat back up and reached for his angelwine. I could tell in this moment he found me insufferable, but he was also too busy enjoying my company to send me, and what he thought were my ridiculous ideas, packing.
“Come on!” I leaned in, batting my lashes, pleading with him. “You scoff in the face of danger. Honestly, Tassarion. What do you have against parties?”
“We were at a party when Marcèllian had the Fallen come for us,” he quipped.
Well, rot. I pressed my lips together.
I wasn’t sure how to come back from that.
Hearing this made me even more determined to bring some liveliness to the manor.
It was my home, too, and I would not live the rest of my dawns in boredom.
In fear. In this everlasting dreariness of the manor’s dark shadows.
I always threw parties back home in Nahomie Manor.
Even if I was the only attendant. I was not about to let that tradition die here.
And Tassarion loved dancing too much. He loved liveliness.
Enjoyment. I would give it to him even if he didn’t have the courage to give that joy to himself.
“All the more reason to throw another. That singular moment was devastating. The embodiment of the purest evil. The Beauradèl’s should pay for their treachery.
But Amouré,” I tugged his chin toward me, arresting his attention.
“One moment of darkness should not rob you of the endless light that comes from joy and celebration. Come on, Celèstian, say yes. Open the gates. Invite the angels who will come. Let us enjoy ourselves as we dance, drink our angelwine, and enjoy the company of your?—”
“Our,” he quickly corrected me.
“Okay, our angels. Please, Amouré. Say yes. It’s just for this twinight.”
I kissed him then. Unhurried. Deliberate. Devouring. I drug my teeth across his bottom lip, purposefully stealing his breath. When I released my wingmate, he could hardly breathe.
“That’s not fair,” he groaned, his voice raw, his feral gaze tethered to my mouth.
I smiled coy.
“All’s fair in love and war. Say yes.”
“Fine. Yes.”
Then he lunged, wrapping me in his arms, while bringing his lips to mine. We tumbled on the couch, intertwined with one another. When the king finally released me, I swore I could see starlight.
“On one condition,” Tassarion said, his voice low. Gruff.
A delicious chill snaked down my spine.
“Oh? And that would be?”
“It has to be a true masquerade where everyone is masked. Including you and me.” He grinned widely. “Angels who attend unmasked do not enter my manor.”
I smiled, showing all my teeth as I danced with elation.
“Done.”
Tassarion took hold of my lips again, having his own sinful pleasures with my mouth before releasing me. Then he pulled away, padding over to the door of the lair.
“I’ll have the Gargorètti spread the word across Mortevain. We’ll see who attends.”
“Tassarion, where do you think you’re going?”
He blinked at me, confused.
“You’re half-dressed!” I gestured to his bare feet. “Where are your shoes?” Then to his chest. “Your tunic? You’re not going out there, looking like that, uncovered.”
His eyes glittered with amusement.
“So rotting protective.”
“I’m greedy and I don’t like to share. Your point?”
He laughed, low and dark, the sound like music to my ears.
“Fine. I’ll put on a shirt.” He waved a hand. A freshly pressed black shirt slipped over his torso, properly covering him. “But I am not wearing shoes in our manor.”
Then he walked out of the lair with Obsidian in tow.
I was thrilled to finally be alone.
Until Coralai slipped into the chamber.
“Oh, don’t look so depressed, Roièssa.”
The gargoyle laughed. I didn’t see what was so funny.
I didn’t enjoy having a shadow, a guard, everywhere I went.
Some mischief was best achieved in isolation.
I sighed and pushed to my feet, finishing Tassarion’s angelwine.
Slipping on fuzzy slippers and sliding an onyx silk robe around my shoulders, I made for the door.
“Come with me, Coralai. I need to find Saundeiah. We have a masquerade ball to ready ourselves for.”
We walked out into the hall. With every step, my body levitated off the ground as Coralai’s heavy stomps shook the floors.
“I can’t believe you convinced the king. He hasn’t had a festivity here since before...”
I knew exactly what she was talking about.
I waved my hand to shake off the creeping oppression.
“Yes, I know. But it’s time all of that changed.”
When we reached the spiral stairs, I spread my wings and began flying.
“Have you ever been to a masquerade, Coralai?”
The gargoyle looked at me with a strange expression on her harsh face.
“I’ve watched many from afar. But Gargorètti aren’t allowed to attend such affairs. Angels are too scared of us. Our appearances terrify them.”
“Well, to the Hèls with judgmental angels who can’t accept you for who you are. You will be in attendance this twinight.”
Coralai smiled. Then she nudged me as we flew up the ramps of the manor, passing floor after floor.
“I knew I liked you,” Coralai laughed.
“Unhinged I may be, but room will I create for those I love around me.”
The Gargorètti fell silent for a while. We flew in quiet, flying through the massive manor, crossing through endless chambers, courtyards, and halls.
“Thank you, Roièssa.”
I looked at Coralai and reached over, mid-flight. I scratched her head, and the gargoyle purred. If the garbled sound she made could be called that. I made it to the main kitchens, and to my luck, Saundeiah was inside bossing a few of the Nanmiess around.
“We will not serve our Roi and Roièssa this... this embarrassment. What do I always tell you younglings? Presentation matters! In all things!”
“Ehem,” I coughed.
Saundeiah whipped around. I was shocked to see the cheeks of the soul darken as if she was actually blushing.
Her luminescent eyes held a peculiar look.
Something in my gut told me I should poke her about it.
To check in and see if everything was all right.
But I knew Saundeiah well enough. She was reserved.
Observant. Kept to herself while maintaining her duties in the manor.
I didn’t feel comfortable getting too personal with her yet.
I shook off the feeling, zoning in on what she was saying.
“Roièssa! Stars. Is everything alright? Why are you here? I was going to bring the rest of your firstfast for you?—”
“Saundeiah, breathe. Leave the littles alone. I need you.”
The Nanmiess blinked at me three times before releasing her grip on the plate she was holding and floating to my side.
“What happened?” She asked.
I wriggled my brows.
“Not what happened, but what will happen, is what you should be asking.”
The soul’s eyes flickered. The luminous orbs grew a shade darker before lighting up again. She looked at Coralai while I was left feeling strange. If this friction between the soul and I would get better, it would be from effort made on my part.
“Why is our Madame Nahomie speaking in riddles?”
“Hèls if I know,” Coralai said, shrugging. “She’s in a mood this dawn. Prepare yourself.”
Saundeiah looked back at me.
Whatever she saw glimmering in my eyes made her frown.
“Your face is colored with mischief,” Saundeiah said.
“And you are going to help me achieve it.”
I grabbed her ephemeral hands and tugged her out of the kitchen.
“Show me the biggest ballroom in the manor.”
Saundeiah gave me a long, peculiar look.
“The biggest... ballroom?” Her eyes narrowed at the edges. She looked confused. Caught off guard. And also annoyed that I was about to overwhelm her already full plate with more work.
“Yes,” I said resolutely. “The largest we have. We’ve a masquerade to host this evening.”
“Pardon?” Her eyes widened, colored with fear. Her shoulders trembled.
“Roièssa, the last time?—”
“I know, my friend,” I said somberly. “But the only way to remove that stain is to start wiping it away with newly made memories.”
Her eyes glistened before she returned to her usual stoic self.
“You’re right. This will be good for us to... begin moving on. Finally.”
I smiled, taking her arm in mine. Then she began floating, her ghastly body fading in and out of sight. She looked like a ghost wafting through the halls. Our arms remained linked, which kept me from losing sight of her.
Saundeiah brought me from the east wing and into the southern wing.
She flew around no fewer than seven corners and down their halls.
We came to two massive, wrought iron doors, carved from shining midnight glass with indigo mosaic tiles and gilded trim.
I took in all the ornate Victorian details, and I gasped, dumbfounded at the beauty of the doors.
“These doors are nothing,” Saundeiah said with a slow, crawling smile. “Look inside.”
Coralai did the honors, shoving the doors wide open. I looked inside the ballroom.
My jaw dropped. Saundeiah watched my expression, waiting for my approval of the space.
“Roièssa Nahomie,” she said. “Will this do?”
A slow grin spread across my face.
“It’s perfect.“