Chapter 7
Chapter seven
Zara
Ilove escaping to the village. There are no rules here. No palace walls or tedious traditions. I can just…be. And after the terrifying incident in the Woodlands yesterday and escaping the impending doom of marriage, I could use the distraction.
All I need is a hooded cloak and the cover of night and I can stroll into the village unseen.
A shiver of excitement trickles along my spine as I step into the busy streets, alive with music and bustling crowds.
Emerald-green vines crawl up the brown wooden houses and storefronts lining the cobblestone streets.
They climb all the way to the thatched roofs, and giant moonflowers that have just bloomed for the evening shoot out from beneath the tangles of stems. The windows burst with candlelight and movement as if all the folk are just waking now that the sun has disappeared below the horizon.
Vendors are pedaling, children are running and playing, and the sweet scent of freshly baked fig bread tempts my nostrils.
I stumble a couple of times over the hem of my gown, earning a couple of curious glances, but no one cares what I’m wearing.
No one pays me or Emlyn any mind as we flock amongst them in our heavy cloaks.
The townsfolk simply hurry past, busy and bumping into our cloaked shoulders as they make their way through the crowd, because no one truly sees me.
Emlyn laughs next to me at a street juggler as we pass, and I look over at the entertainer just as he tosses three fiery batons in the air.
I slam into something. Hard. Careful to keep my cloak’s hood pulled low over my face, I lift it back slightly to see what I’ve hit.
My lips curve up into a devious grin. I’m face to face with the handsome courtier from earlier.
His rich brown hair is mussed, but he's still wearing his red velvet dinner coat.
His blue eyes flash a brilliant shade of onyx for less than an instant, so quick that I might've imagined the change, their natural blue returning as swiftly as it vanished. They hold mine captive, shining beneath the candlelit streetlamps, the flames throwing playful shadows on his face. “This is a pleasant surprise. I didn’t see you at the party.”
I lose myself in his eyes for a second, forgetting how to speak. “I skipped it. I take it you also decided not to partake in the festivities?”
“I didn’t see you after our chat.” He shrugs nonchalantly but his eyes pierce deeper into mine. “Seemed pointless to stay.”
I blush as I gaze up at his face, trying to decode him. Something’s different. His eyes are wicked and playful and somehow see right through me.
It’s undoubtedly sexy. And unsettling.
My lashes flutter and I tear my gaze away from the endless depths of his irises.
“Well, there’s much more fun to be had here in the village.
” I reach for Emlyn, pulling her to my side from where she's watching the street acts perform.
“My ladies maid and I are going to a, somewhat exclusive, party. Care to join?”
Emlyn looks from me to the stranger, a hideously large grin on her face as she drinks in his deliciousness. “Who is this?”
The male bows at the waist, careful not to break eye contact with me. “Please, call me…um…Alfrie.” He stands straighter and gently lifts my hand to his lips. “And I would be honored to accompany you this evening.”
He offers us his arms and we flank him, strolling along the stone alleyways toward the small tavern at the end of the street.
The warmth radiating off him is intoxicating and I press my body into him a little more than necessary.
I almost forget who I am and where I was supposed to be tonight. Which is exactly how I like it.
Let the debauchery begin.
We make our way down a dark side alley to a shack at the end of the street called Groble’s Tavern.
It’s not a place for royalty. It’s my favorite place to get lost in, to become someone else.
Anyone else. A place to revel with a crowd of local Fae and naughty courtiers who are decidedly up to no good.
Whether it be tossing back ale with an ogre, or losing at cards with a group of elves, I’ll undoubtedly enjoy myself. Likely, a little too much.
The wooden steps groan as we ascend, and we’re greeted with loud and cheerful music from a drunken bard in the corner and hollering of a group of males arguing over a poker game.
A handful of heavy wooden tables and chairs are scattered about the dirt floor, most with a broken leg or two.
The thatched roof is haphazardly patched in multiple places from leaks that the owner has yet to repair, and the entire place smells of stale beer and pipe smoke.
“This place is horrendous. I absolutely love it.” Alfrie’s smooth voice tickles my ear as he leans close to me, his hand finding comfort on my lower back.
“Just wait until you see where the real party is.” I cock my eyebrow at him and offer a sultry smile, grabbing his hand. “Come on, let’s get a drink first.” We follow Emlyn toward the wooden counter, and the bartender pours a pint of ale for each of us.
Our new companion raises his glass. “A toast. To avoiding marriages and ditching uptight royal parties.” His deep voice bellows around the tiny space.
My jaw drops and I playfully slap his arm. “Shh!” I glance around the room hoping that no one heard him. “Keep your voice down.” I stifle a laugh and clink my glass with his and Emlyn’s. “Cheers,” I whisper.
“Cheers.” He matches my hushed tone. He takes a sip of his ale and stares at me from over the rim of his glass. His blue eyes hint at what he longs to do to me if we somehow find ourselves alone.
My body alights, the desire to press myself against him palpable. I barely brush my tongue along my bottom lip, and take a drink from my glass. I clear my throat and subtly nudge Emlyn with my elbow.
She takes a pull of her drink and wipes the foam from her lips with the back of her hand. “Yes. Well. Oh look! I think I see—I’m going to pop over there for a moment.” She winks at the two of us and moves through a crowd of dancing tree nymphs and pixies to the other end of the tavern.
“Shall we?” I toss my long hair over my shoulder and reach for Alfrie's hand.
His lips curl seductively as he intertwines his fingers with mine. “Absolutely.”
I lead him through the crowd of drunken patrons, and down a dark corridor where the door to the rooftop patio is located. Before we reach the door, I make a left into the washing room. Alfrie eyes me curiously but follows me inside and shuts the door behind us.
“This is unexpected,” he murmurs and backs me into the room until I’m pressed against a table that holds a water basin. He stands before me and rests his hands on either side of me caging me in.
I suck in a breath as he leans closer, his face inches from mine. “This is just…just the entrance.” I take a ragged breath trying to dull the spark igniting in my core from the closeness of his body.
He leans even closer, as if he might kiss me, but he pushes back from the table, freeing me.
Gods, it’s hot in this washing room. My face flushes and I move to the wall to the left of the table, avoiding his hooded gaze as he watches me.
I slide my hand along the wall, trailing my fingers down the white paneling until I feel a loose board and push against the bottom.
The panel teeters forward, and I smile over my shoulder at Alfrie.
I turn the brass knob that was concealed beneath the panel, opening the hidden door to a dark stairwell spiraling deep underground.
“I’m intrigued.” Alfrie takes my hand in his once more and follows me down the stairs. Music is thumping, vibrating the steps as we descend and billows of smoke swirl around us when we reach the bottom.
An expansive and vibrant green meadow stretches out before us, seemingly without end as we’re surrounded by the blackness of the underground.
A massive and ancient wisteria tree shoots up from the center of the grass, glittering with gold and amethyst embedded into the large trunk that weaves up high into the tree’s branches, culminating into golden leaves and beautifully fragrant purple blooms. The tree lights up the cavern with a mystical glow as if it were late afternoon, the golden hour just before the sun sets.
Several chaise lounges and tables are tucked beneath the hanging bows, and ethereal blue and silver lights shine from fireflies and sprites as they mingle and twirl around the patrons.
Couples are tangled together, hiding within the shadows, while others dance barefoot on the grass, holding their partners close as their hands explore and their lips collide.
A few faeries perch upon a low-hanging and gnarled tree branch with a towering hookah pipe, taking turns inhaling a sweet-scented opium.
Alfrie’s face lights up. “This is incredible.” He grips my hand tighter, and the corners of his mouth curl up into a mischievous smile. He eyes me hungrily and I chew on my bottom lip.
“Would you like to…dance?” I tilt my head in the direction of the middle of the field and raise my brow in question.
He eyes me for a moment, seemingly trying to read me. He lifts his chin. “No.”
No? “Um…okay. I just—”
He pulls me to his chest, his face mere inches from mine. His hands are on my waist and his lips are so close to mine they nearly touch. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private.” He whispers against my mouth.
I swallow over my thumping heart. “O…okay,” I stutter and lead him into the shadowy caverns beyond the tree.
He follows close behind and withdraws his hand from mine, sliding his arm around my waist. We move as one toward an empty corner where velvet blue pillows are strewn across a brocade blanket on the ground.
He sits on the blanket and pulls me down beside him.
A small glass hookah pipe is in the center of the rug and we each take a long pull.
The smoke has my head swimming. I'm floating weightlessly through space, delighting in the sensation.
Alfrie shifts closer. I close my eyes, a low hum slipping from my lips as his fingertips trail down my arm.
My skin tingles as if I'm brushing against a cloud, soft and warm.
Shivers of pleasure rush through me, making me tremble.
It’s ecstasy.
He caresses my cheek with the back of his hand and traces my bottom lip with his thumb. My breath hitches and I lean forward, pressing my lips to his.
He tastes of honey, smooth and sweet and he feverishly kisses my lips before pulling away. “What of your betrothed?” A hint of concern taints his voice but the way his lips curve up ever so slightly, diabolically even, tells me he doesn’t care at all about my betrothed.
I return his sinful smile, “Who?”
“Do you do this often? Take strange males to secret parties?”
I shrug and look up at him through my lashes, “No one has to know what we do.”
He grins against my lips and pulls me closer with even more fervor. His kiss is electrifying, bringing life to every cell in my body. I reluctantly pull away from his lips, my head heavy and dizzy with the swirling opium.
I recoil.
Empty black eyes stare back at me and I shudder, wriggling out of the monster’s grip. I want to scream but no sound falls from my lips.
“Whoa, are you okay? What’s wrong?” Warm hands caress my shoulders and I blink several times. Alfrie’s brow pulls together, his head tilted. “Is everything all right?”
“I—I thought…” I rub my forehead. I must have inhaled a bit too much. Pull yourself together. “I’m fine. Sorry.” I flash a tight smile.
He cups my cheeks and gazes into my eyes, locking me into this moment with him.
My shoulders relax and I’m grinning as if his gaze holds some kind of magic.
“There now. That’s better,” he whispers against my lips.
The room still sways around me, but I hardly notice as I drown in the depths of his irises.