At the mention of the dungeons, I reflexively grab my left hand, the one that the guards shattered during my time there, and Lydia grimaces.
“If I hadn’t just forced myself to throw up the rest of the potion, I’d agree with you.” I’m sober now, though my head is still swimming with thoughts of Ivy. Her mouth. Her hair. The way her chest rises and falls. But I’m basically always thinking about Ivy, so it’s really not too far off my default state.
Yes, I want her. But I always want her.
I would have cut off my own hands rather than go any further with her while she was in that state. I had just barely come to awareness when Lydia interrupted us. I know the potion doesn’t make anyone do anything they weren’t already thinking of; it doesn’t alter your desires, it just lowers your inhibition. It’s little comfort against the rising tide of my guilt.
I’m sick with the thought we might have done something that Ivy regrets. It only reinforces my desire to have her far away from this place. I might not think the Otherworld is rotten to the core like Ivy does, but she’s far too good for a place like this, and every moment she’s here is a moment she’s in danger.
“I can’t believe you were stupid enough to drink tonight,” Lydia scolds. She never takes the substances at revels, while I’ve developed a reputation at court for being willing to participate in any kind of debauchery. I don’t know if there’s anything in the Otherworld that can be drunk, smoked, or snorted that I haven’t tried at least once.
“It was only supposed to be faerie wine tonight, I swear it. One of the asshole lords must have drugged me, hoping for a show.”
“Orher,” Lydia says with disdain.
I shake my head. “It wasn’t her.”
“You have to pray this doesn’t get back to Bram,” Lydia says tightly.
“Trust me, I’m praying.” Praying isn’t all I’m doing.
I take Lydia gently by the arm and escort her down the stairs to her quarters before she even realizes what I’m doing.
I bend to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, hoping she’ll have forgotten all about the lecture she planned to give me come morning. “Good night, Lyd.”
“Good night, Idiot.”
“Your favorite idiot, though.” I smile.
“You and Ivy are currently neck and neck for first place,” she deadpans as she closes the door behind her.
I loathe returning to the revel, but that is where Lady Thalia will be. I had planned to fall asleep in front of Ivy’s door, but every moment since I vomited has given me more clarity. Lydia’s warning about keeping what happened tonight from Bram is urgent and I need to act quickly.
I spot Thalia’s raven hair first, loosely plaited down her back and dotted with night-blooming flowers. “Darling,” she purrs as I cross the crowded dance floor to her. She drapes her body over mine. Every nerve ending still feels raw from earlier; I just barely resist the urge to push Thalia away.
“Hello, beautiful.” I brush my lips against her ear the way she loves.
She rocks to the beat against me, so close I’m not even sure if what we’re doing can be classified as dancing. “That was hilarious earlier,” she purrs. “I think I might be jealous.”
“Of who?” I ask, putting on my best show. “Bram’s human pet?”
“I’ll simply never understand his fascination with those sisters. They’re so dull, and so... blond.”
“I agree. Whoever dosed me with that potion played quite the trick.”
Her body shudders against me as she laughs. “Oh, how I love a trick!”
“Was it you?” I ask casually.
She pushes out her lower lip in a pout, but it’s an unnatural expression on her sharp face. Her eyes are almost feline, the rest of her features small and pointed. “I wanted to see if you’d do it. You know, I really am quite jealous. I should punish you.”
“It didn’t mean anything.” I’m terrified. If Thalia knows how I feel about Ivy, then Ivy is in even more danger than before.
“The potion only reveals what’s already there.”
I take a step toward her and crouch so our faces are eye level. “But you’re my favorite, so what does it matter? I kissed her, but you’re the one who has me.”
She thinks and I rise back to my full height. “The thing about it is, darling, it can’t get back to Bram. We’d hate to wound his ego; things always get so miserable when he’s out of sorts.”
