by Eve Langlais
“Not in Eden. Not with my people. But in her mind, it made perfect sense. Whoever planted the idea made it feel believable to her.” He stood from the table, shrugging off the melancholy conversation, regaining the brashness that made him stand out. “Are you ready, my knife-toting lady, to go dress shopping?”
“I’d rather be camping in the Wasteland.”
Turned out she wasn’t exaggerating.
Chapter 20
Clothes shopping took on a whole new amusing meaning when Casey grumbled during the whole process. She truly didn’t like the idea of shopping for a dress. Even less the fact that once they found a simple black, floor-length gown, it needed modifications.
“I don’t see what’s wrong with it,” she whined as she twirled for Tanzie, another of Darius’s crew, who proved handy with a needle and glue.
Tanzie answered as she pinned a few more tucks. “You can’t attend an Enclave ball in an off-the-rack, mass-marketed gown. You’d be laughed out of there within minutes.”
“So you’re going to glue rocks to it?” Casey said, eyeing the bins of polished stone with a dubious air.
Roark tried not to snicker. “You will dazzle.”
“I won’t be able to run.”
“I’ll make sure you can,” Tanzie promised, marking a line on the skirt that went fairly high on the thigh.
“What happens at this ball thing anyhow?” Casey grumbled as she twirled to show off the emerging results.
“Pompous Enclave people will pretend they’re above the event and everyone else,” Tanzie claimed through a mouthful of pins. “Don’t move.” She took the sewing stapler to the fabric and created some pleats where she trimmed the fabric.
“So why have this ball?”
“Because how else will they show off how important they are?” Roark declared. “There will also be dancing.”
“I don’t dance,” Casey said flatly.
“Then you won’t mind if I do.”
That earned him a glare over a partially bared shoulder. A nice one. She’d initially protested when he wanted to stick around, but once he started talking, she had a lot of questions, and complaints—and sarcastic retorts that made him chuckle.
“You dance?” she said skeptically.
Tanzie snickered. “He and his brother are right dandies when they try.”
“It’s not enough to sometimes be a king; you have to play the part,” he defended.
“The question is, are you really faking, or do you like the pomp and ceremony?” she asked.
The right answer was no, but the truth was, sometimes Roark enjoyed it. It reminded him of how far he’d come. “I do what I must to protect my kingdom.”
“Which is a way of saying shut up and endure the dress.” Her nose wrinkled. “I guess I can tolerate it for a few hours.”
Tanzie wisely didn’t say anything about the hair and makeup to come. As Roark left Casey in her capable hands, he passed someone at the door carrying a bubbling pot of goo that had numerous flat wooden sticks poking out of it. The waxing of all the hair on her body was also something he didn’t warn her about. He didn’t mind the hair, but they were going to a ball held by the duke. The only person higher was the king. They wouldn’t take her seriously if he let her attend in her leathers and boots with that fat braid he wanted to wrap around his fist.
As he prepared himself in another room, he did hear a few yells, and a distinct curse word or two. No one came in a panic asking for his aid, which he took as a good sign.
The shower left him refreshed. The shave to his jaw left him smooth with only a hint of shadow to match the hair on his head. He’d thought long and hard about his disguise for the night. The choices truly were endless. He could have even snuck around the inner Enclave ring itself with no one noticing. However, thus far, subtlety hadn’t netted a thing. He needed to shock something loose. With that in mind, he dressed. He doubted Casey would approve of his choice.
When he knocked at the door to her room and she said enter, he forgot any arguments he’d prepared as he beheld her. “You look magnificent,” he breathed as he entered the room.
The simple black gown had been hemmed and restructured to flow only over one shoulder. The skirt cut high up a thigh, and her leg flashed when she moved, showing off a garter holding a tiny jewel-hilted dagger. No one would think anything of a puny weapon like that. They’d be too busy wondering if she wore any underclothes.
The scowl on her face didn’t detract. “I look ridiculous.”
“The countess don’t like compliments,” Tanzie retorted, “or so she claims. I think she complains to get more.”
“Stop calling me Countess!” Casey yelled. “I do not like this at all. I feel so…Ugh.” She stalked the room, the high slit on the dress revealing the lean line of her leg and smooth curve of her calf. She had flats on, not heels, a concession probably, given she had no experience he’d wager tottering on the stilts some preferred. The dress hugged her frame and had sections cut out. She even had some simple jewelry. Metal bands around her forearms, a pendant that hung between her breasts, the theme matching that of her garter.
“Did you adorn her in daggers?” he asked.
“Since there is no way she can pass herself off as Port City born and bred, I had to give her a persona.” Tanzie’s smile held a hint of mischief. “They won’t think twice if a foreigner shows up wearing shocking attire.”
Casey’s lip curled. “In other words, I don’t speak fine enough, and I curse a little bit—"
“A little?” Tanzie snorted.
“—so I’m going to be some kind of visitor from a remote island.”
“A violent one, given you look as if you could kill,” Roark said.
“Exactly. No one will think of screwing with her.”
“They also won’t want to tell her anything,” he grumbled. “The women will hate her because she’s too beautiful. The men will lust after her.”
“I am not too beautiful,” Casey huffed, her cheeks a brighter red than before.
“You are not from around here, which makes you an exotic treat,” Roark claimed. They’d take one look at Casey and would desire her or hate her. It was the same in a sense as being king.
And this was what Tanzie had chosen to accomplish their task? He had to wonder at the choice given his instructions to her were to make Casey fit in.
“She looks too dangerous,” he said with a shake of his head. “She needs to look innocuous so she can blend in and listen, not like she can take them out.”
“Trust me, this will work,” Tanzie insisted.
It helped to remind himself that Tanzie had an interest in protecting the Marshland, which was the only reason why he didn’t assume she was setting him up for failure. She had a mother living in a newly renovated house. Her retirement home she called it. Given Tanzie spent more time in Port City than he did, he deferred to her judgment.
“They’ll let me in or fucking else,” Casey snapped.
“Not if you talk to them like that they won’t,” he retorted.
“Like what? A normal fucking person? You’re one to talk about sticking out.” She pointed at him. “You look like a rich bringer of death.”
“I’m not armed.” He lifted his arms to show he had nothing strapped to him.
“You are brimming with darkness.”
“How can you tell?”
She sketched a hand in the air. “It’s all around you, like bubbling smoke. Can’t you see it?”
He shook his head, and so did Tanzie, but he found Casey’s description interesting. “I am dressed appropriately for the occasion.”
“According to everyone who saw me, so am I,” Casey hotly retorted.
“If you’re going to start fighting again, I’m leaving. Jorah wants everyone packed and ready to go just in case you cause a mess.”
“Who, me?” Roark said with a smile.
“Just like the cap’n’.” Tanzie left, and Roark eyed Casey again.
&
nbsp; Her hair no longer lay in one fat braid down her back but was caught in several complicated braids that looped around her head. The dark shadow on her eyelids and shiny gloss on her lips gave her a sultry appearance. She was so fucking gorgeous that he finally realized why he so ardently didn’t want her anywhere near the Enclave. A beauty like hers… if anyone knew it came with a deviant power…
“This was a bad idea,” he muttered aloud.
“Why?”
“Because you are going to make every hot-blooded person in there mad with lust.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” he growled. “Do you really have no idea of just how alluring you are?”
Her brow arched, and then her lips curved into a smile as her hips undulated, her slow walk bringing her close enough he could smell her perfume. “I think that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said.”
Did she feel how hard he was when she pressed against him?
“Casey.” He moaned her name.
“You know,” she whispered, getting on her toes to brush the hot words along his jaw, “I’m not the only one looking pretty. You look good enough to eat.”
He swallowed hard. “Perhaps we should skip the ball and sneak in later.”
“After all the work Tanzie put into this?” She laughed and pulled away. “We are going to this event.”
“I’ve got a bad feeling.” It had been nagging him since they left for the Enclave sector.
“Don’t tell me you’re turning coward.”
“The people at this ball are dangerous.”
“I’m dangerous.” She ran a finger down his chest, and his body trembled. Why did she have such a power over him?
“Maybe if we tuned you down a notch.”
“It’s too late to change it. Have a little faith.”
“I’ve met you. You’ll never pass for benign.”
“Don’t be so sure.” She gazed at him and batted her lashes. Her voice purred. “Knives are dangerous things. I would never play with sharp objects.” She giggled. The tone sweet, innocent, unlike her gaze. “Would you like to touch one and see?”” She grabbed his hand and pressed it to the broach at her breast.
Even knowing it was an act, his breath caught.
“See, just a pretty bauble,” she murmured.
As he saw her plan, his jealousy swelled. “You are not to put anyone’s hand on your body,” he said in a voice gone rough.
“Then you better ensure no one stops us from entering.” She bit his chin and moved away. “Shall we go to this ball thing before you completely lose your nerve?”
“I have not lost anything.”
“Says you. You’re not going to drug me and leave me behind this time.”
“This is going to be dangerous. These people…” He shook his head. “They won’t fight you with weapons you can defend against.”
“Worry less about me and more about you.” She eyed him. “Can you even move in that suit?”
“You like it? I had it made with the colors of my kingdom.” He did an elegant slow turn. All black—from the tunic jacket to the pants and boots—threaded with yellow and green and brown. The needlework was subtle, but it gave the fabric depth when he moved. It screamed wealth and status.
“I thought we weren’t announcing the fact the Upstart King was in town.”
“Is that what they’re calling me now? I thought they were still stuck on Pretender.”
“Depends on who’s talking. Others are calling you the Wizard of the Bog. I’ve also heard rumors you’ve fathered unverified bastards left and right.”
“I have not,” he hotly retorted.
“They also say you killed the duke’s daughter.”
“And where did you hear that?”
“In the dress shop when I was trying on gowns.”
“That rumor is true. Her name was Maratheona, and her father is the one hosting the ball tonight.”
Chapter 21
Once she realized who was holding the ball, Casey felt like an idiot. How had she not made the connection?
Entering the tunnels again so they could move about unseen, she glowered the whole way to the upper echelon of the city, following Tanzie, who’d volunteered to guide. Casey managed to ignore the cool amusement of the king by her side.
“How long are you going to sulk?” he asked.
“As long as it takes to not want to kill you,” she snapped.
“I don’t know why you’re so mad. I told you she was highly placed Enclave.”
“I didn’t realize she was that high. She was the daughter of a duke. In the power scheme, that’s one step below the king.”
“I don’t see the difference that makes.”
“Because you haven’t been listening to the grumbles in the city,” Tanzie replied. “The duke is poised to take over if the king dies.”
“Isn’t the king’s daughter Shereen supposed to inherit?” Roark asked.
“Only if the girl lives,” Tanzie ominously proclaimed.
“If you’re implying the duke is dangerous, I already know that. I wouldn’t put it past him to make a move on Shereen if he thinks it will net him a throne.”
Casey bobbed her gaze between them. “If he’s making a move on the throne, why come after you? Or Charlie for that matter?”
“Because the duke has no other heirs.” Tanzie’s words hung in the air.
Roark frowned. “What are you talking about? He has sons. Two of them.”
“They both went mad like their sister,” Tanzie noted. “One of them went full-on fireball on the northern bazaar where they keep the herds for slaughter. According to a friend, you could smell cooking meat for days.”
“I don’t think it’s the duke.”
“Then why are we going to his ball?”
“To make sure,” he said with a sigh.
Casey snorted. “What are the chances anyone else cares enough?” She’d chatted and listened to enough to people to realize they really didn’t care what Roark did in the Marshes. They certainly wouldn’t support a war over land they considered useless.
“There’s something about it, though, that doesn’t seem right,” he muttered. “Why now? Why not just have more children?”
“He’s getting old, probably couldn’t,” Tanzie surmised, whereas Casey said, “Or he really wants to get to know his granddaughter.”
That brought a snicker to Roark and Tanzie that left Casey grumbling, “What’s so funny?”
“The only person the duke cares about is himself. That he wants her as an heir, or a pawn, is quite possible but never imagine it is out of affection,” Roark warned.
The tunnel ended in a massive door that took a series of coded knocks to open. They were ushered from a basement lined with dusty bottles through a house that was quiet. Too quiet.
“Where is everyone?” Casey asked, noticing the fine furnishings, the ticking clock, the lack of servants.
“Everyone got the night off while their employers are at the ball,” Roark explained as they weaved through a quiet kitchen and out through a door into a dark garage that showed a strange milky box with windows covered in curtains.
“What is that?”
“Hover palanquin. You didn’t think the Enclave walked, did you?” Roark winked. He glanced at Tanzie. “Do you have the chip to activate the colors?”
“Aye.” Tanzie whipped out a strange disk and slapped it to the side of the box. The opaque surface shimmered and changed from solid white to the undulating and changing colors that matched the threads in his suit—yellow, green, and brown. The hues of the marsh.
“You’re announcing our arrival,” Casey stated. “All that bluster about me drawing attention and you’re going to walk in saying hey, I’m here!”
He grinned. “And now I’ll have to share that attention with the gorgeous countess.”
“Why not hide like you did in Eden?”
“I can’t use magic to hide my face. Not here. They’d see through it in a mo
ment. Might as well do what I’m known for.”
“Be an idiot?” she muttered, causing Tanzie to snicker.
“I would have gone with bold and dashing. Now shall we, my lady?” He held out his hand, and she lifted her chin.
If he could play a role, she could, too. “But of course, Your Majesty,” she purred as he helped her into the box.
It held a pair of facing benches, but he chose to sit beside her, the line of his body pressing against her. The box trembled as it rose and then began to move.
He talked low and quickly, reiterating the plan. “When we arrive, be aloof and snooty.”
“What do I say if they ask who I am?”
“Tell them you are the Countess Casey of the Marshlands.”
Her nose wrinkled. “No.”
“Then they won’t take you seriously.” The hovering box stopped shivering and settled on the ground with a light thump. The door opened, and Roark emerged first, turning to offer her a hand and helping her out.
She heard the gasps of some people nearby. The murmurs.
“Is that him?”
“Who is she?”
“I can’t read either of them.”
Words to make her worry, meaning she kept a tight clamp on her thoughts, imagining the thickest shield possible.
His fingers squeezed, and he softly murmured, “Easy, my lady.”
She tried to relax, but her brashness of before faltered as she found herself faced with luxury she’d never imagined. Eden’s castle was nice, but the place they stood in front of made it seem shabby.
The stairs that led to the grandest doors were made of glass, or so it seemed, and changed color with every step. The walls of the palace, the only word for the grand structure, rose in a sheer gleam of seamless stone broken up only by the brightly lit windows within it.
Then there were the people… Her gown appeared simple beside some of the bouffant examples they passed, male or female, in some cases neither. Their outfits varied in color and width. Many wore garish face paint that made her appreciate the simple makeup Tanzie had put on her. More than one eye followed Roark as they passed, avarice gleaming in the gaze.
He leaned close and muttered, “Watch yourself. More than few of them are wondering if they can get you alone for a ride.”