Chapter 17
The food came quickly, an indulgent spread of meats, vegetables, potatoes, and breads that overfilled each table and only created more waste.
A small ensemble played in the corner, the strings of their instruments bright and high in pitch, and my mind settled on the upbeat melody as various guests took turns approaching the table and greeting Harthon and Ellan.
Every once in a while, one would nod at me too, but it was always uneasy.
I was perfectly okay with that. The fewer interactions, the better.
“Wine! More wine, now!” Ellan demanded, waving his goblet in the air. A servant rushed over and filled his and Harthon’s cups. His eyes turned wide when he saw my full, untouched goblet. “You don’t like the wine?” he asked in utter disbelief.
I’d tried wine a few times before. Merelda and I never even thought of purchasing it, but when Marsik occasionally acquired a good bottle instead of cheap liquor, he always pestered me to take a sip until I complied.
Every time, it was disgusting. Really. Whoever drank wine and spirits was determined to set their throat on fire.
So I hadn’t even thought of touching the cup before me and had washed my food down with water.
“I don’t enjoy wine.”
His mouth gaped. “Who doesn’t enjoy wine?” he exclaimed, as if I’d told him the sky was falling down.
He was boisterous before, but as I stared into his ruddy face, moist with sweat, it was clear he was drunk. I’d dealt with Marsik enough times to know that drunks couldn’t be reasoned with. Still, I tried. “The magvis doesn’t.”
He exploded in laughter. “Does the magvis not enjoy sex, too?” he managed between snorts, and my eyes widened in shock.
Would a magvis like sex? Considering they could birth children, it was possible.
But did I like sex? It was obvious that people liked it. But I’d accepted long ago that I wasn’t going to fall into any man’s bed. I’d never even felt attraction until…until—
No way. Absolutely not.
The feelings I got when Harthon complimented me were the warm emotions that followed any sort of flattery. And the feelings I got when I’d stared at his half-naked form this morning were just a regular female reaction to a well-built man.
A very well-built man.
“You’re blushing,” Ellan observed all too merrily, yanking me out of my head. “She’s blushing!”
“I’m not blushing,” I shot back, even as I felt the heat in my face and neck.
“She is!” Ellan persisted.
I swung my gaze to Harthon. With a tilt to his lips, he leaned toward me and said, “You are.”
With that, my flush only worsened. I wasn’t only going to stab Ellan. I was going to stab Harthon too. Somehow.
“Aren’t we supposed to be united?” I hissed angrily, but he merely pulled away, his eyes dancing with light.
“I don’t know if the blush is because she hates sex or likes it!” Ellan shared far too loudly.
“Sex is great for humans, but it’s not something the magvis will discuss with them,” I exploded. Then, just to make him shut his mouth and end this horrible conversation, I jammed the goblet into my mouth and drained half the wine, choking as it went down.
Ellan triumphantly lifted his goblet. “Sex is great for us humans. Isn’t it, Harthon?”
Harthon’s expression was all rogue as he drawled, “It is.”
And then I was suddenly thinking not just about sex, but about Harthon and sex, and the sight of his bare torso, and the heat of his body, and how women probably leapt into his bed because his prowess in battle most likely extended to the bedroo—
Stop it. Now.
The red in my face spread to my entire body, and I desperately brought the goblet to my lips again.
Maybe I should get drunk. It might be the only way to make it through the day with my sanity intact.
* * *
“Would you care for a dance, Lady magvis?”
“No,” I answered flatly, finishing my third goblet of wine and welcoming the fuzzy warmth that’d only been growing since my second drink.
The food was long gone, and the tables had been cleared over an hour ago to make space for the female dancers who’d permanently scarred my mind.
They’d entered in scraps of—of course—orange fabric that hardly covered their breasts and bottoms. Except for Harthon, every man had yelled and cheered as the women swirled their hips, bounced, and twirled to a low, smooth rhythm that was all seduction.
It had been wildly uncomfortable.
Luckily, their performance was short, and when it was over, the party guests had immediately stormed the floor. They’d been dancing ever since.
If raucous laughter, uncoordinated spins, and skips could be considered “dancing.”
The man in front of me had come directly from that floor, just like the ten before him who’d gotten drunk enough to approach and ask me to dance. None of them had taken my first refusal as an answer.
This one didn’t, either.
“I don’t have otherworldly gifts or powers or whatever it is you call them, but I have a collection of the rarest gemstones in this world. It would be an honor to give you some,” he said, wiggling his brows.
I sighed tiredly, lifting my goblet to signal for a refill. “I hate gemstones.” It was getting hard to speak clearly, but I didn’t really care. Anything that numbed me to Ellan’s stupid party and everything else was very much welcome.
His smile only widened. “You have a wonderful sense of humor. I do, too. Let’s dance, and I’ll share my best jokes with you.”
I stared at the whiskers covering his chin as my cup was filled. The scruff looked silly on him, like a boy trying to appear as a man. Harthon’s was so much better. All male.
“Take your jokes and choke on them,” I said blandly, sinking into the cushioned seat and taking another sip.
And still, he wasn’t deterred. “I do love banter. You seem to be quite good at it.”
“I will use my eyes to turn you into stone if you don’t leave me alone.” That should do it. It certainly had with every other fool who’d been arrogant enough to take it this far.
The man opened his mouth. “It’s only a dance. You’ll have fun—”
“She means it. Walk away.” At Harthon’s blunt words, the man closed his mouth and scurried away. Just like that.
That was so incredibly unfair.
I whipped my head toward him, and the room moved slower than it should have. He’d heard every exchange before this, but all he’d done was speak to Ellan and pretend I wasn’t about to tear my ears off of my head.
“You couldn’t have said that to every other one?” I asked him pointedly.
“You were handling them just fine on your own.”
I rolled my eyes, bringing the goblet to my lips again. Harthon’s huge hand wrapped around mine, and the cup stopped halfway up. My lips parted on a protest.
“If you don’t stop now, you’ll want to die tomorrow morning.”
“I want to die right now, and drinking more of this will make it better.”
“You’ll regret it tomorrow.”
“I don’t care.”
His focus briefly turned away, and I followed its track to the twelfth man who was approaching me. Had none of them any sense of dignity?
I set the goblet down and threw my face into my hands. “I could stab them and they’d still ask me to dance,” I whined between my fingers.
“I have a solution, you know.”
Pulling my hands away, I looked to Harthon with desperation. “Tell me.”
“Dance with me.”
At the very serious suggestion, I straightened. Dance with Harthon? Wait, Harthon danced?
“Hello, Lady magvis—”
“Dance with you?” I repeated to Harthon, ignoring the man in front of me.
“That is what I said,” he confirmed dryly.
Hold on. “You wear jewelry, and you dance?”
Humor flickered across his face. “Try not to faint.”
I tried to picture Harthon fluttering around on his toes and giggled. To think the battle-hardened warrior actually danced. Wait—since when did I giggle?
“I also dance,” the man chirped, reminding me that another bachelor was here to pester me.
“How is dancing a solution?” I asked Harthon.
He shifted closer, and I got caught up in the gold swirling amidst his dark irises. “Not just dancing, but dancing with me. It’s a solution because it’ll come across as a claim. No one would challenge me for what is mine.”
A wave of feverish heat rolled over me as the deep, assured words wrapped around my mind. No one would challenge me for what is mine.
Did I want to be Harthon’s? Hmm. I stared at the solid muscles pressing against the sleeve of his ebony jacket.
Maybe.
I probably wasn’t going to like that answer tomorrow.
“But I don’t know how to dance.” I’d never done it before. I’d stomp all over his feet like a newborn bird.
“Just follow my lead and you’ll be fine,” he reassured.
I believed him. Harthon was good at taking care of me.
“I am also a fine leader, Lady magvis,” the party guest offered oh-so-helpfully.
Well, there was no choice, was there?
I sprung to my feet, wobbling as the room spun just so. Fingers brushed against my upper back, and I realized it was Harthon steadying me. “I don’t think my coordination will be very good,” I stated, focusing hard on walking as he led me down the platform’s steps and to the floor.
“How is that different from any other time?”
Step. Step. Step. Only three more until the floor.
I finally registered his teasing comment. “Everyone’s uncoordinated compared to you.”
Cheers sounded at our arrival, and the guests formed a wide berth around us as my limbs struggled to do what my mind said.
Three goblets of wine were probably too much.
Just like that, clarity filtered in. If I couldn’t dance sober, how would I be able to do it now?
Nerves broke through the alcohol-filled haze as the musicians began another upbeat tune.
My eyes ghosted around the room and landed on Edmund, who watched us with open intrigue.
I looked at my dinner chair, wishing I could transport myself right back into it.
If I actually were the magvis, I probably could.