Page 26 of A Taste for the Peculiar

Avirin is drawn immediately to one woman, a maple dryad smoking a cigar and dealing cards. She wears fine trousers and a shirt that cinch in just the right places, leaving Avirin to wonder why women wear dresses at all. The dryad’s eyes are sharp, hairline branching back into vibrant red and gold leaves that frame the ashen brown bark of her face. There’s an impish quality about her smirk that rivals Lord Riften, yet even when she isn’t speaking, her presence commands attention.

When she catches sight of Lord Riften, she hands off the deck to make her way toward them. As she approaches, a man intercepts her, bending to murmur in her ear. “You-know-who is trying to buy his way in again.”

The woman flashes a bitter smile. “You’d think a viscount would have better things to do than invite himself to a party for peculiars. Though, to be fair, I’ve never seen him among company he didn’t hire.” She shares a knowing look with Lord Riften before she speaks to her companion. “I trust you’ll take care of it?”

“With your blessing.” Then the man vanishes.

The woman turns back to Lord Riften, pinching his side until she spots Avirin. “Oh, she looks just like the drawings!” She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “Though Pye has expounded on your beauty, they simply haven’t done you justice.”

Avirin’s face heats. She looks to Lord Riften, but they don’t quite meet her eyes, a darker shade of yellow blooming on their neck. “Admiring her and disparaging me?” Lord Riften’s cheeks dimple. “I would have it no other way.” He gestures between the two women. “Lady Avirin, this is my dear friend, Cascade.”

Sweat beads on the back of Avirin’s neck. “Oh, I’m —” What are the social expectations in this scenario? Should she care more about correctness or politeness? In the end, she forgoes both, letting the strange haze of the evening cover her. “Just Avirin would be fine.”

Cascade’s eyes narrow with intrigue. She extends her hand. After a moment, Avirin takes it, but she isn’t prepared for Cascade to lift Avirin’s bare knuckles to her mouth.

It’s not the first time another woman has touched her, but it is the first time it’s…different. Stirring. Sensual. Cascade’s lips linger on her skin, her eyes latched steadily onto Avirin’s. Inside her, something twists tight as a violin peg, and Cascade’s mouth moves like a bow across the strings.

Then Cascade pulls away, and only when Lord Riften nudges the bottom of Avirin’s glass does she realize it’s almost slipped from her hand. She tightens her grip, still thrumming from Cascade’s touch. “A pleasure,” Avirin manages. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Indeed it is, Avirin.” Cascade’s voice is low and lilting. “Since Pye asked to bring you to one of our private parties, I trust you’re rather exceptional.” Her heady gaze lingers for another moment before she turns to Lord Riften with a fresh thought. “Have you let her read through your notes? Learned girl like her, I bet she could get them in order.”

“They’re still in a bit of disarray.” Lord Riften brings their glass to their mouth. “I’ll have to locate them.”

Cascade rolls her eyes. “Always an excuse. I do hope you two will join us for cards. We’re playing for chips…” Her gaze finds Avirin again. “Unless something else is on offer.”

Avirin’s head swims, and Lord Riften settles a gentle hand against her back. “We’ll be sure to find your table if we do.”

With that, Cascade returns to mingle amongst her guests, and Lord Riften leads Avirin away. “Clearly you have the same charming effect on the demimonde as you do on me.” He plucks the cider glass from Avirin’s limp hand and lifts it to his satisfied smirk. “So…how do you find Cascade?”

There’s a sing-song lilt to his voice that taunts Avirin. She snatches the glass back and takes a long swallow, relishing the taste of his lips on it. “She’s…” Enchanting. Compelling. Breathtaking. “I should very much like to play cards with her.”

Lord Riften leans their shoulder against the wall. “Does she seem like a well-balanced meal?”

It takes Avirin a moment to understand. “You think I could feed with her?” The thought is ludicrous. “But we would have to…”

Lord Riften merely lifts their brows.

Could she feed from a woman? Could she desire one? Avirin dabs her sweaty palms on her skirts. Before these lessons, she was certain her attraction extended only to men. That was the way of things. That was what she told herself.

Of course, she has always noticed certain things about women. Their necklaces resting in the hollows of their throats, their hair slipping free of their pins, their smiles shared like secrets in crowded rooms. How could Avirin be expected to ignore all of that? How many times has she been reminded that they are the fairer sex, that their beauty surpasses that of any man?

She hid those thoughts away, recklessly shoving them into the recesses of her mind, until she wasn’t certain if she was hiding them or hiding from them. In the dark of night, she felt the ideas rustling as if they’d come alive. As if the more she hid them, the bigger they got. As if someday soon, they would grow too big for the box she kept them in.

But that was a problem Avirin needn’t concern herself with — until she met Lord Riften. Their beauty is not so simply contained in one box or another. They were the first to truly give her pause, to tease her mind and make her reconsider everything she knew.

What did he say the first night they danced? I am a man…but not only that. That was how Avirin rationalized it. Lord Riften’s allure was simply an exception to the rule, an extension of the line she’d already drawn in the sand. He was one person; her craving for him didn’t have to upend everything.

But now her stomach stirs at the thought of Cascade. Of Sinoe. Of Selbie. That line is washing away with the tide, leaving Avirin staring into an endless sea of possibilities. It’s massive. It’s terrifying. It might swallow her whole.

“Could I…” Avirin’s mouth goes dry. “Be with her that way?”

“You could do anything, Avirin.” Lord Riften’s gaze is sober now, like her understanding of this is of the greatest import. He lowers his face to meet her eyes, and she no longer feels like she is drowning. “All you need is to do is take a step toward it, and you will have a chance.”

Avirin’s heart thuds. She twirls the beading on her dress, tugging until the threads threaten to fray. “But would Cascade want that? With me?”

Lord Riften rests their hand upon hers, and for a brief moment, her mind stills. He squeezes gently. “There’s one way to find out.”

THIRTEEN