A few minutes later, we’re knocking on Sorscha’s door. She and Cece are already inside, relatively drunk, surrounded by towers of colorful miniature cakes and pastries.
“My friends!” Sorscha throws her arms around Mar’s neck and then mine. I’m glad to see her spirits a bit higher, but there is no warmth behind her energy. It’s surface-level. Almost manic.
Cece’s suspicious gaze shifts toward me as I slide into a seat at the table across from her.
“Wonder what the boys are getting up to this evening,” she muses, shuffling a deck of playing cards.
“If I know Kai—booze, drugs, and females. Not necessarily in that order,” Sorscha says, moving toward the bar cart.
Mar snorts. “You left out thievery and arson.”
My brows shoot up. “Arson?”
Waving a hand, she says, “He claims it was an accident. No one got hurt. Let’s just say his ‘acquaintance’ with the pirates goeswayback.”
“I’m sure Zadyn will keep them in line tonight,” Sorscha mutters offhandedly, pouring herself a glass of bubbles.
“Zadyn didn’t go.” Sorscha cocks her head at me. “At least I don’t think he did.”
Then again, who knows? He continues to avoid me after the tragic makeout debacle.
“He had something better to do?” Cece asks.
“I’m not sure. He’s probably with the Prince of Hyrax.”
A loud clank sounds from the other side of the room.
Our heads snap toward Sorscha, bracing the bottle she nearly toppled over on the bar cart. Pink flashes across her cheeks. She’s not usually clumsy.
“Huh. Thought you two were attached at the hip.” Cece sifts the cards through her nimble fingers, sizing me up with that cat-like stare designed to cut through to the bone.
I flash her a smile. “We are.”
“What’s all this?” Mar asks, moving toward a large chest full of white garments.
“Wedding gifts,” Cece boasts, “from your mate’s fiancé’s family.”
“Wyneth’s family sent these?”
“Along with an entire trove of rare jewels.”
“How generous,” Mar deadpans, fishing out some lacy lingerie and holding it up to her chest. “For the honeymoon tour?”
Sorscha glances over. “If there even is one. Given the current state of things, our travels may have to wait. Who knows if there will even be a wedding night.”
I try to force the dark flashes of Jace and Sorscha tangling together from my head, but they keep sprouting up like stubborn weeds.
“Wear that, and there will be.” Cece nods toward the stringy thing in Mar’s hands.
“Where does this even go?” she marvels, turning the contraption—for lack of a better word—upside down.
“This is a marriage of convenience,” Sorscha says to Cece. “Besides, I can’t imagine Jace being ensnared by such things. He doesn’t strike me as a male who cares for frills and lace.”
“He’s male,” Cece drones. “Of course he does. And if that fails, simply throw yourself into peril. I hear he has a weakness for damsels in distress.”
She sends a pointed look my way. I don’t deign to respond, although that statement was clearly for my benefit. Mar squeals, drawing our attention as she pulls something with ostrich feathers out of the trunk.
“This. Is. Hideous. You have to try it on.”
