31. Nahomie
Nahomie
Tassarion Celèstian Everthorn placed a hand over his hearts.
My eyes burned with fresh tears. Every islander in the chamber lowered to their knees.
Those with wings lifted them before folding their wings over their heads until they rested on the floor as they bowed.
This was the greatest show of reverence.
Honor. Trust and respect. And Tassarion, along with the islanders, had bestowed it all on me.
I choked on my emotion before Manmi’s voice cut through the thick in my mind.
She’d engrained in me proper etiquette and confidence.
“When the dawn arises, you will cross into chambers that make you feel small, lengthen your shoulders and lift your head. The Infinite would not see fit to place you in chambers your wings cannot carry. Should the door open and the opportunity arise, crush the head of false humility. Lift your head, my fifi, and walk with pride. For you do not walk into chambers, Nahomie. Never forget that you are the chamber.”
I obeyed Manmi and her lifelong principles.
Chin held high, I let my seven wing pairs tumble behind me like a veil.
Then I gradually descended the steps without rushing.
Without panicking. I was their Roièssa and I would carry myself as such.
No one moved a muscle until I reached Tassarion.
The king kept his head bowed low until my fingers grazed his crown and lifted his chin to me.
“Mi Amouré,” I purred. “Mi Roi. You honor me.”
Tassarion’s molten gaze rose to mine, filled with insatiable hunger. With passion. Primal, feral, protection. He rose to his feet, instinctively curling a wing around my waist before lifting my laced hand to his lips, kissing every knuckle while his burning gaze held mine.
“I am unwell, Emélie. You didn’t warn me you’d look like this.”
I grinned as I caressed him with blackfire for all to see. My flames curled around his shoulders. His waist. Through his hair. Mine. All mine. Tassarion tenderly pulled me to him, then spun me around to face the hall.
“All rise.”
The islanders rose to their feet. A sea of brown, colorful, and curiously distinct faces looked on us both, their eyes telling a thousand tales. This twinight would be spoken of for a long time. While I was pleased, I was no fool.
Among the pride, the joy, the hope of this moment, I spotted vehement rage, jealousy, and poisonous hatred. I didn’t know these islanders. But I memorized their eyes. Their wings. The tension in their shoulders. That tautness in their jaws.
“You should have done a better job of only inviting islanders who actually love the Everthorns, yeah?” I spoke down the bond. Tassarion laughed.
“Now where would the fun be in that? Let them try it. They’ll be dead before they can make it to the courtyard.”
“No bloodshed this twinight, Celèstian.”
Tassarion snorted so loudly my mind rang with the sound, though externally his expression remained stoic. Royal.
“No bloodshed. Sure thing, my optimistic little phantom. Sure thing.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing at his sarcasm.
Tassarion pulled me with him to the center of the hall, to the middle of the dance floor.
The accompaniment moved back, making room.
A melodious song filled the ballroom. Tassarion swayed his hips, possessively gripping my waist with one hand and taking my free hand with the other.
My body followed along, naturally leaning into his lead, flowing with his rhythm.
The king held my gaze as we moved around the dance floor like the only angels in the room.
Our hips swayed in rhythm. He tugged me forward.
I pulled him back. We spun around each other.
Tassarion released me in a twirl, sending the skirts of my gown into a flurry, before he pulled me back to him unhurried and sensual.
His hands lowered to the base of my spine before coming to rest on my bottom. And yes, the shameless king squeezed.
I let out a small gasp. His eyes darkened, and he squeezed my bottom again.
The gesture was so intimate, so affectionate, I couldn’t help but melt into his arms, ignoring the room entirely.
We didn’t speak with words, but stars. The movement of our bodies wrote a love song to rival the glory of the realms. We spun around every inch of space on that dance floor, twirling and grinding against one another.
Reverent silence followed our every step as the onlookers remained glued to our rhythm.
Resting my head on Tassarion’s shoulder, I let him lead me through every turn and step.
In that moment, I knew. This king of mine would lead me to the ends of the realms, and I would gladly follow him.
I would carry his crown. Proudly bear his name.
Serve the islanders by his side, and I would help him build the world the Fallen Angels tried to burn down.
“I love you, mi Amouré.”
The words slipped across the bond so freely.
Naturally. I squeezed him, as if gripping him tighter would make me closer to him.
Tassarion’s grip on my gown could pierce the fabric if he tried hard enough.
His hearts beat wildly beneath my grip with my chest pressed against his.
A burst of light exploded within us both down the bond.
“Infinitely, endlessly, I will always love you, my Everheart.”
After we spun around one another for some time longer, Tassarion invited all our invitees to join us.
Immediately the dance floor filled with angels, shifters, fae, spirits, and souls alike, dancing their hearts out as the music took an uptick, a percussion-driven beat filling the air.
I spotted the Gargorètti standing off to the side, alone, staring on with longing.
I pulled away from Tassarion.
“I’ll be back, Amouré. I owe someone a dance.”
Tassarion looked at me quizzically, visibly rebuking the idea of ever taking his hands off me.
I laughed, prying his fingers from my hips.
I spun away before he snatched me back, floating into the air, weaving through the islanders who’d taken to dancing in the air instead of on the floor.
When I reached my target, I extended my hand.
“Obi.”
The gargoyle seemed to visibly flush as he blinked down at me. I always felt so small when looking up at him. I also felt safe. It would be a cold dawn in the Hèls for anyone who hurt me if this beast of a gargoyle learned about it.
“May I have this dance?”
Obsidian’s eyes widened. His nostrils flared.
“Roièssa, I... I cannot.”
“Sure, you can.”
Before the gargoyle could argue, I took his hand and tugged him through the crowd.
They looked as if they’d wet themselves with fear.
I chuckled. I wish they would. I could give a rot about their opinions.
My Gargorètti would not feel incapable of having a good time in his home.
I dragged Obsidian to the middle of the floor, back to where I’d left Tassarion, who hadn’t moved.
Tassarion’s eyes glittered with amusement.
He leaned forward, grinning like a fiend, his eyes blazing.
“You know Gargorètti have two left feet and can’t dance to save their lives?”
I waved a hand.
“All the more reason to teach him. This is a perfect time.”
Tassarion laughed. He was so full of joy, my hearts squeezed.
This was my hope. That he would laugh among his islanders again.
He would dance and be free. That Everthorn Manor would no longer be a beautiful prison.
It would return to being a home. It would return to being the house of the islanders.
I took Obsidian’s enormous hands in mine and began leading him carefully into a fun, upbeat, erratic dance.
The gargoyle was awkward in every way. He bumbled his way along, shaking the chamber with every heavy step he took.
But eventually he grew relaxed and continued blundering on while having fun.
At some point, the remaining Gargorètti joined in.
Coralai stole the show as she danced along with several Cherubim who fought to keep her attention.
Angelwine flowed freely, and the music roared.
The races of Mortevain, in their masks, partied through the twinight.
I was lost in the crowd, somewhere between Tassarion and Obsidian, as we were enmeshed in gyrating bodies, thrumming music, and the glow of starlight pouring in through the open ceiling above.
The ballroom had no walled enclosures. The chamber looked more like an open courtyard with the circumference and perfect view of the Ouanaviel Sea on all sides.
Sweat pooled down my spine as I swung my long hair and hips, lost to the rhythm of the beat. I was growing hungry, but I couldn’t stop laughing. Stop dancing. Stop living.
This was exactly what Everthorn Manor and the citizens of Mortevain needed.
This wouldn’t be the last time we opened the manor doors to our islanders.
My next project would be razing down at least half of the Alabaster Wood which blocked the main passageway to the bridge that led up to the manor.
I’d have to bide my time for that pitch though.
Tassarion would have my head if I told him my desires for it right now.
The king stole me back into his arms, sneaking another kiss as we moved freely among our islanders. It wasn’t his first of the twinight and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. I itched to rip off his mask. His cape. This rotting tunic. To touch and explore him for hours deep into the night.
But... time and a place.
I would have him fully. Soon.
We hadn’t consummated our Wingbinding yet. We unintentionally took our time getting familiar with each other first. But now... I was ready. To have him. Devour him. To brand him into the very essence of my spirit.
“Guard your thoughts, Nahomie, or I will abandon this frivolous party. I will drag you into an oblivion of pleasure until I wring out every whimper of need from these devilish lips of sin you dare taunt me with.”
Rotting stars.
My skin burned.
I pressed my body into the king, ready to give in to the threat, hungry for his mouth to be on my skin, for his hands to explore every inch of what I’d kept all these centuries for the one I would call mate.
Tassarion lowered his mouth to the crook of my neck. He drew a soft whimper from my lips in anticipation. Then the sound of a thousand cawing boneravens, shattered through the music of the night.
In one breath, every islander present fell silent. It was like listening to the silence of an open grave. As one, we all lifted our heads to look up. Then I saw them. The endless wings beating against the night. Flying towards Everthorn Manor. I trembled with bloodcurdling fear.
“Oh no,” I whimpered.
The angels were the first to move. They snapped their wings open and launched into flight to escape.
The boneravens descended, talons out, clawing through wings, skin, and bones.
A cacophony of horror erupted in the ballroom.
I was frozen, unable to believe my eyes.
I had seen the flock about a week ago that came with the peonies.
It was an omen. A warning. And I was too busy enjoying my wingmate to pay attention. To be aware of impending danger.
Adrenaline seized my limbs. A chorus of screams filled the air.
Then my worst nightmare came to light.
A contingent of bloodhounds stalked out of the shadows.
And every last one of them had their eyes on me.