I’m the first one to back down, uncomfortable with the way his breath begins to mix with mine, the way his gaze goes from anger to something closer to hunger. I haul myself from him and stare at him on the floor, blood soaking into the collar of his pressed shirt.
“You need a new shirt,” I say with a sneer, then leave him on the bathroom floor.
When he exits the bathroom, he looks as if nothing happened. The blood is gone, and his eyebrow looks good as new. He flicks his wrist at me. I don’t feel anything, but when I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, it comes away dry, not a splatter of red to be seen.
Shame.
He straightens his black blazer over his shoulders. “I’m going to ask you once more, little fawn. Are you ready?”
“Never,” I hiss at him. His answering smile drips of pity, reminding me of the way he looked at Mae on the night of their wedding, right before he stabbed her in the back. “When this is over, I will rip you limb from limb.”
Looking forward to it,his voice slithers in my head.
The playful tempo of the violin thrums as the violinist pushes and pulls her version of a blade across the strings, her music a weapon of her own. The sound entrances me. On second thought, maybe it’s the three glasses of champagne I’ve downed in the last hour.
A female in all black approaches, hair slicked into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. The light of the chandelier above reflects from a delicate gold necklace at the hollow of her throat. She holds a platter of bite-sized portions of salmon, crostini, and smoked shrimp. “Salmon, Your Highness?”
I wave her away, intent on drinking myself to death tonight while nobody notices. But she lingers, jade eyes staring into mine. Freckles line her cheeks.
“I have freckles just like that,” I say.
She frowns. “Yours are white, Your Highness.”
Fuck. She’s right. I down the glass of champagne and hold it out to her in a silent request for more. Marik swoops in behind me and snags the glass. “She’s done. No more for the night.”
Now I’m the one frowning.
His voice brushes against my mind.Trust me. Please.
I huff a sigh and turn toward the crowd. Couples dance on the floor, but their heads keep turning to the witches that are spread throughout the crowd and the guards lining the walls. Koa dances with his sister, one arm wrapped protectively around her as a witch passes by. I don’t contain my eye roll. I haven’t forgotten the way he stood there in silence as his father called for the executions of innocent civilians.
Marik mutters something about checking on a guest that I don’t care about, and my breath catches in my throat as another figure walks toward me. Eliza Rainey.
Asmo.
I force myself to keep my relaxed posture, to keep my nerves settled, my pulse slow and drunken and lazy. Marik can’t know who stands before me.
“Hello, Eliza,” I say warmly. My eyes threaten to betray me, to bounce around the room to find Marik or Cora, to make sure they’re not watching.
“Your Highness,” she says with a smile. “What a lovely ball.”
“Yes, yes, thank you. I didn’t plan much of it. My husband and his…partner are mostly responsible for everything you see tonight,” I say cheerfully.
A twitch of a smile pulls at the corner of her mouth. “Well, I just wanted to come and say hello, let you know I was here. My partner is with me, and we’d love to see you after the ball, if that could be arranged.”
I nod slowly, combing through the words, the alcohol buzzing in my head making it more difficult. Partner? Is Mae here? Or is that just small talk?
“My friends are also here. I’d love to introduce you to them. I’ve just gifted them necklaces,” she says with a chuckle as she fiddles with a delicate gold necklace around her neck. It’s identical to the one the waitress was wearing. “And please, do your best to avoid the wine. I’ve heard there was a bad batch from Pernrith recently.”
“Thank you for the heads up,” I say as my mind reels. Asmo is here.Maybe Mae, too. With help. The waiters are their friends. Is this a rescue mission? Are they attacking? A sob threatens to burst, but I shove it down. Eliza—Asmo—gives me a final smile and turns away, stepping from the throne platform and back to the festivities below.
A male waiter approaches. He adjusts his neckline, a glimpse of gold flashing underneath. “Appetizer, Your Highness?”
“Please.” I grab a bite of the salmon and a skewer of blackened shrimp and shove them both in my mouth, fighting a laugh as I remember how Mae used to worry about her manners as High Queen. I really need to sober up. I grab another helping.
Marik returns, eyeing me with something like disgust as I lick my fingers. He lowers himself into the throne next to me. “The announcements will be made soon.”
I don’t respond. Instead, I survey the crowd carefully. Waiters float through the crowd, champagne and red wine sloshing on thin slabs of wooden trays. One approaches a group of five witches, all of them in floor-length gowns in shades of scarlet, charcoal, or black. The waiter offers them wine. A hybrid reaches for the last remaining glass, but the waiter ignores the request and darts back through the crowd.
