Syleris stepped closer, so that he was within an arm’s length of either of us. “Do not worry, dearests. I am a god of many talents. I will still have plenty of attention for the two of you.”
Koryn slid her eyes to me, our conversation from just a few minutes before still fresh in the air. But before I could think of a reason to keep Syleris away, the bells in the spiral towers of Balar Shan began to ring.
There was no time for debate. Telling the Dark God what to do was pointless anyway.
I held out my hand to Koryn. “The Winter Tithe has begun. Let’s go make our offering.”
CHAPTER 43
KORYN
My anxiety notched higherwith every step up the spiral toward the center of Balar Shan. The bells stopped ringing, but music poured from the presence chamber through the swirl and spokes of the tower.
Garrick held my hand tightly against his arm, his fingers a constant and calming anchor. Syleris loomed over my other shoulder, a fraction of a step behind.
The fae courtiers who’d avoided me for weeks now filled the corridor, jostling for entrance to the masquerade. But none of them touched me, not with Garrick on one side and Syleris on the other.
Dark God be thanked. Truly.
“You are welcome,”Syleris’ dark voice rumbled in my mind.
I ignored him and hoped he would return the favor—for once.
Even without the press of bodies, the flood of noise and sound and sensation nibbled away at my composure. But it was more than that. I could hold on to Garrick’s hand, take a few measured breaths, and wrestle back control. That at least dulled the edges.
But it was the wrongness of everything around me that crawled beneath my skin and refused to go away.
We reached the top of the spiral. The center. Where magic and power coalesced.
Where magic and power were wasted on frivolous opulence.
“The humans fear the Winter Tithe. They gather their families together in one room for warmth and safety on the longest, coldest night of the year. They spend precious fuel to keep the fire burning high all night, in an offering to the gods, asking that they might live to see another year.” My voice shook.
The painted ceiling had been enchanted to show a clear night sky, each constellation glowing a slightly different hue. They moved with the music in a sensuous dance that the real night sky could never have managed. The dais was festooned with night-blooming flowers. Had Auri lent her power to this? Or were there fae here with flora gifts? This was what they spent the precious magic remaining to them on, while the rest of Velora died.
“And the fae do this,” I said.
Garrick’s face was grim. “This is just the beginning. The tradition is to generate warmth through as many physical matings as possible.”
Syleris was conspicuously silent.
Garrick had mentioned glamours… but it was not difficult to tell the courtiers apart. At least, the ones I was already familiar with. I easily picked out the royal family. Princess Margeaux was dressed as a harpy. How fitting.
But the costumes and masks gave the illusion of anonymity. That fit with what Garrick said… politics did not matter tonight. Only having as much sex as possible, with as many people as possible. Who did not matter. That was why they wore disguises—so they could fool themselves into thinking that their actions did not have consequences.
I leaned into the places where my hips pressed against Garrick’s side. He should have been surveying the crowd, but his intense cerulean and clover eyes were focused on me, his jaw ticking away with agitation.
I had to get myself under control. I was angry. But we also had a purpose. With a mighty effort and a lot of chanting of silent mantras, I schooled my features back to neutrality. Garrick did not believe it. That did not matter, so long as the rest of them did.
He darted a glance over the top of my head. Over my shoulder. To the dark presence lingering just behind me.
“I will be back,” Garrick said.
He released my arm, and though I knew he had to go, I couldn’t help my small gasp at the loss. It was part of our plan to get into the treasury. He knew all the routes, and he’d tell us when the way was clear.
The courtiers kept their distance after the spectacle with the salt and ice. Good. I needed less attention on me tonight, not more. But even though no one touched me, I could feel their presence. They whispered to one another, their voices rebounding off the curved walls. Some of them had doused themselves in artificial scents to enhance their costumes. A woman dressed as an orchid—a flower I had not seen in hundreds of years—floated by in a cloying cloud of perfume.
My power hummed beneath my skin. Not enough to worry about, not yet. I knew the warning signs now. By the time the whorls of frost appeared on my skin, my power was difficult to pull back. But I was not there yet.
