Then he slipped it into place and fixed her skirt, hiding it from view.
His crimson eyes held hers as he stood. “I need you well armed tonight.”
Then he straightened, the teasing curl of his mouth returning.
“Now.” Rune offered his hand at last, “It’s time the Lords officially meet their Queen.”
He opened another portal, and they stepped through together.
The dining hall was not made for mortals.
Alora stepped through the towering onyx doors, her breath catching as the scent of wine and smoke curled around her. The room stretched into shadow, lit by chandeliers of twisted black iron and bone. Jagged columns framed the long table of volcanicglass. The floors were veined in red like paths of blood beneath the stone. The vaulted ceiling was opened to the night, wisps of specters floating above.
The room was filled with demons in finery, their casual laughter as sharp as their smiles. Music played somewhere by invisible hands, both haunting and beautiful in its melody.
And at the head of it all was a raised platform holding a table carved from a single slab of volcanic glass, the edges sharper than a blade. Red velvet-backed chairs lined its length. At the center was a throne, clearly Rune’s.
The entire room quieted at their arrival, all eyes going to her. After a breath, all lowered to their knees in deep bows.
From the shadows of the doors, Calla, Hadeon, and Deimos surfaced like her personal guards. In a room full of demons, they likely were.
Rune’s grip was firm and unyielding as he guided her to their table. Instead of taking the empty seat beside him, he pulled her effortlessly into his lap. Close enough to inhale his smokey amber scent.
She stiffened.
His amused voice brushed her thoughts.Comfortable?
She glowered at him.Hardly. May I have my own chair?
Bear it, songbird,he murmured, his hand resting possessively on her hip.You’re in a den of demons, and more are soon to arrive. I would rather keep you close.His gaze dipped down the length of her gown to where the fabric parted over her thighs.Especially when you look so tempting.
The music rose again, low and haunting. The court’s murmurs returned, a few casting glances her way. Harbingers filled the seats beside them: Calla, lounging with feline grace on Rune’s left, her claws idly tapping the table; Hadeon, on his right, silent as stone, his massive frame barely contained by his formal jacket.
Alora leaned slightly toward Calla, her voice quiet beneath the music. “What am I to expect tonight?”
“There are four courses to Samhain,” Calla replied, her red eyes glinting as she lifted her goblet, the contents blood red. “First, is the Exchange of Flames. Personal gifts with a theme of fire. They are exchanged between lovers in private, a gift that means ‘I would burn for you’.”
Alora was then highly aware of Sunstone dagger hidden beneath her skirts. Her gaze flicked toward Rune, and he met it with a knowing smile that made her pulse trip.
“Though the true event is the King’s Benediction. That is when the Dominions present a grand gift to king, which can range from extradentary or terrible,” Calla continued, winking at her. “I assume most will present a gift to you tonight to impress him.”
Rune grunted at that.
“Impress him? Why?”
“For he blesses them in turn.” Calla said, inclining her head toward Rune.
“It is a ritual of shadow and flame,”he said, pressing a slice of fig into her mouth.“I must bless—or curse—each faction in turn.The ritual is both political and spiritual. Affirming my authority as their sovereignty as my magic invigorates the Netherworld.”
She licked the fruits juice from her lips and he followed the motion.“And how do you decide which they deserve?”
Rune’s smirk deepened.“That depends entirely on how pleased I am with their gifts.”
“The Feast of Ashes follows,” Calla said next. “When all seven factions gather to honor the turning of the season. It can be a rather lively event. The final course is the Dance of the Dead, when demons invite the lost souls who never crossed the Gates to dance amidst us until dawn.”
Alora’s skin prickled when a phantom floated past them.
Rune’s voice slipped into her mind again, dark and smooth.The dead are the least of your worries tonight, songbird. Fret not. I have taken precautions.
