“Where’s the wine?” Lorelei asks in a bored tone.
Franco guides us away from the ritual to a long table made of white quartz edged with gold. I certainly never noticed this enormous piece of furniture in all my views through the telescopes over the last few days, so it must have been transported for the revel. I don’t bother wondering how. Surely some impossible feat of magic is responsible.
Upon the table are trays of fruit and flowers and hundreds of bottles of different colored liquids. Lorelei paces the length, eyeing the bottles with heavy scrutiny before she finds the one she’s after. It’s a pale blue that shimmers in the moonlight. Franco finds three glasses and Lorelei fills each nearly to the rim. Once we each have a glass in hand, she raises hers. “Midnight Blush. Drink up.”
“In honor of the full moon.” Franco gives me a wink and knocks back his glass, swallowing the liquid in a single gulp.
I stare at the contents of my glass, knowing I shouldn’t risk even a sip of the fae wine. But there’s a void inside me, one that wants nothing more than to forget, even for a time. I raise my glass in a silent toast.To forgetting what I’m missing and enjoying what I have while it lasts.I take a deep breath and down a hearty sip.
Franco takes my hand in his and pulls me away from the table. “Let’s dance.”
19
The night wears on and the wine continues to flow. I find my sorrows are swept away, leaving me with the most luxurious ecstasy. Lorelei was right; the effects of Midnight Blush are far less troublesome than honey pyrus. There are no psychoactive properties, only intoxicating relaxation and a calm euphoria.
My two companions and I sway to the beat of the drums while the priestess continues to chant. All kinds of fae surround us; wisps bounce and undulate with every pound of the drum, bats swoop overhead, humanoid fae dance with graceful motions, cats pounce and claw their way up the Wishing Tree, dark shadows writhe as they expand and contract with the tempo. Even banshees, harpies, and dragons soar through the night sky, joining in the revel, but I can’t find it in me to be bothered by their presence. Instead, I let my body loosen, let my arms swing as if they’re made of air. This dance is unlike any I’ve ever witnessed.
Only one other dance compares. One with ribbons, masks, and vows, and a fae male with a sensuous smirk...
No. None of that tonight. This dance is everything I need.
I close my eyes, feel deeper into the drums. A new kind of fire floods me—a mixture of my life force and unfurling passion. I follow it, become it, let it rise. When I open my eyes, a purple haze falls over my vision, blanketing everyone beneath an ethereal glow. It reminds me of my journey to the Twelfth Court, and—more recently—my dreams. Again, unwelcome thoughts threaten to shatter my peace, so I push them away, focusing instead on the joy and passion, on the beauty of the purple haze.
“You’re glowing.” Franco’s voice sharpens my mind, and the violet begins to dim. After a few moments, the scenery returns to what it was. Still beautiful, of course, but no longer filtered through the strange vision. My eyes meet the prince’s, finding them alight with wonder. He repeats his words. “Evelyn, you’re glowing. It’s like flames.”
I slow my dancing and examine my hands. He’s right. My body has taken on a golden, shimmery aura. It’s enough to surprise me and snap me even further from my daze. In a blink, the glow is gone.
Perhaps Lorelei hadn’t been entirely correct about Midnight Blush after all. It obviously elicits some psychoactive effects.
Still, it isn’t enough to worry me, and before long, I return to my dance. Lorelei takes my hands and we begin to spin. When we stop, we fall into fits of laughter and tumble onto the grass. It reminds me of being with Amelie.
Another thought I quickly smother. I’m not thinking of Amelie tonight. Not Amelie. Not Aspen. Not—Oh look!
I let out an unrestrained squeal of delight as a pair of sleek white kitsune dart by, the first with a glass of wine over its muzzle, the second chasing the orb of flame on the other’s tail.
Franco chuckles as he offers me a hand to help me rise to my feet. “I knew you’d have fun.” Once I stand, he turns the same hand to Lorelei, but she bats it away, shoulders slumping as her expression crumbles.
“I miss Foxglove,” she says with a pout. “He’s supposed to be my drinking partner.”
Franco and I exchange an amused glance. “This is what happens when you drink too much Midnight Blush,” Franco says, then lowers his voice so only I can hear. “We should take her back to her room.”
My heart sinks at his suggestion. All I want to do is dance and drink and drink some more. All I want is drums and rhythm and the feel of my body moving without care. But a rational part of me remains intact, and it can understand the reason for his concern. Lorelei looks like she’s on the verge of falling asleep, and it can’t be safe for her to doze in the middle of a dance floor.
Franco bends to lift her, which is a struggle as she fights him. Once she’s righted, he pulls her arm over his shoulders and helps her walk. It’s slow progress as we make our way from the revel to the palace, but I don’t mind. Every step I take carries the rhythm with me, and I continue to feel the drum, even once indoors. My hips bounce to it as Franco lays Lorelei on her bed. My arms sway to it as he walks me to my room, his hand on my lower back. I can feel the heat of his touch even through my dress.
Too soon, we reach my door. I face him and our eyes lock, trapping us in a bubble of silence. The wine still spins inside me, burning my blood with euphoria. I don’t want to move from this moment. I don’t want any of this to end. All I want is to stare at the beautiful fae male, to avoid sleep for as long as possible. To avoid the reality that awaits me with the coming dawn.
He grins, his sharp canines glinting in the glowing light of the hall. This time, they don’t make me flinch. Like Foxglove’s pointed teeth, the prince’s now seem charming somehow, safe, even as he steps closer. “Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”
“I did. Thank you.”
Again, silence falls between us, making the distance separating our bodies feel too vast. I crave to return to the revel, to throw my arms around his neck and resume the dance right here in the hall. With the beat of the drums still pounding inside me, my body proceeds to move and sway. It’s only natural when that beat brings me toward the prince, draws our lips together to continue the song. His lips are tantalizingly soft, our kisses slow and lingering. The brush of his tongue against mine is like fuel for the Midnight Blush, renewing its ecstasy as heat ignites in my core, tingling between my thighs.
A word comes to mind, one that encompasses the desire that has taken over. Only it isn’t a word, exactly, but a name.Aspen.
I pull away, my pleasure drowned in a shocking sense of sobriety. My eyes fill with the prince’s face, with the hunger in his eyes. It isn’t the face I wanted to see.
Franco is beautiful and seductively alluring, but one problem remains. He isn’t Aspen.
