by Anise Rae
She drifted forward, her skirt dancing over her legs, bringing her to him. She mimicked the push of his voice, throwing her sweetness over the crowd. “Without the dark, we would not know the light.”
Yes, her green eyes swirled fire, but the softness of her words soothed a crack in his heart he’d forgotten was there. The dark was needed. He was needed.
She stopped in front of him. Her lips glistened at him. He wanted to lean in and taste, to claim them as his. Instead, he reached out and lifted her fingers to kiss. “That’s excellent payback, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Keep it up. You’ll be out of debt in no time.”
Her soft gasp was as quiet as his words. Her stars lost their twinkle as the snowy white branch returned. She slipped her hand from his and strode past him. The crowd applauded as she stepped among them.
He turned to find David Noble bowing over her hand. The man pulled her stiff form toward the dance floor and pointed his finger at the orchestra’s conductor, an order to play.
Not vibing happening. This was his territory. That was his girl.
Three paces devoured the distance between them. He slipped his arm low against her waist, those curvy hips splayed under his hand. Remarkably, she stepped closer to him. He let his satisfaction gleam in a narrow smile at his political enemy.
“Stealing her away from me already, Rallis?” Noble sneered. “Typical. Rallis takes the best for themselves depleting the Republic’s resources.”
“Find your own enchantress, Noble.”
“Funny that. We had one not long ago.”
Edmund listened for the lie, but no crickets sounded. He stifled his surprise. Neither the gossipers nor Rallis’s informants had leaked any hint of an enchantress in Noble. An enchantress’s loyalty vow was always announced and celebrated with smug glee. Apparently, Noble had acquired one on the sly.
He looked down at Aurora. Unlike every other enchantress he knew of, she avoided the spotlight like it was a beam of trash vibes. It wasn’t hard to fit this puzzle together and the picture it formed was all around unacceptable. He gritted his teeth.
“She left us when her vow expired.” Noble narrowed his eyes at Aurora, though he spoke to Edmund. “It was a few months after my sister disappeared. A difficult time for the family.”
“Difficult indeed,” Edmund said, pulling Aurora closer, “and a reminder to hold tight to our treasures. Excuse us, we need to re-cast this party.” He guided the ex-Noble enchantress to the dance floor.
Her shoulders tightened against his arm.
“Relax,” he whispered. “I’ll spell your feet to follow the steps.” He looked down at her with a possessive grin. She’d be in his arms, and everyone would know he’d claimed her.
She spun to face him in the middle of the dance floor as the orchestra began the introduction of a waltz. The underside of her black dress spread out to reveal a lather of skin-colored ruffles and high heels made for seduction. He was all for it.
“You think a simple girl from the junkyard doesn’t know the social niceties?” She lifted an eyebrow. “I know how to waltz.”
He bowed over her hand. “My apologies, enchantress. You surpass this lowly mage’s expectations yet again.” He straightened and pulled her closer than proper for the dance. “I need to step up my game to keep pace with you.” He led her into the dance and she followed him with grace. Waltzing was not a skill taught in the junkyard or anywhere in the Drainpipe. Which left Noble Territory. Who there had taught her to waltz? Who’d held her in his arms?
“I don’t play games, Edmund.”
Though Aurora carefully averted her eyes as they spun past his parents and the senator, he didn’t miss their smug triumph at the family’s newest acquisition. Of course, it wasn’t quite in the bag yet, and they didn’t know this enchantress’s wily ways—and criminal past—but he liked a challenge.
“Princess, you play games more dangerous than I ever dared. Foolish games,” he whispered, his mouth brushing the soft skin of her cheek. He protected the words with a sound spell. He’d never risk revealing the truth. When the news had reached him five months ago that the dead metallist had an enhanced metal eye, he’d rushed to the scene and plucked it out himself. He’d recognized Aurora’s energy at the first touch. Unbeknownst to his mother, it had never been in the basement armory. The deadening box had been empty all along.
He’d renewed his efforts to find her, directing tracker mages to search down every rumor in the Republic of anything related to an enchantress—glitter sightings, fairy dust, secret and not-so-secret communing rituals. Then two days ago, one of their newest political appointees, to be announced tonight in fact, had let it slip that he’d turned over the fate of his most prized possession to an enchantress’s repair shop at the junkyard’s edge. A stupid clue. Enchantresses didn’t have repair shops. Edmund had gone anyway. She’d been standing behind a long counter, visible through the window.
“Your tower awaits should you ever play such games again. We have four of them at Rallis Hall, all currently vacant. You can have your pick, though I recommend the north. Best view.”
“No, thank you.” She stiffened, straightening in his arms, and his hand slid an inch down her back. An inch closer to an ass his hands were begging for.
He refocused with effort. “You won’t have a choice if you play that game again. And, Aurora, if you do, you should beg the goddess that I’m the one who catches you.”
She tilted her head, shying from his words, but baring her neck, tempting his lips. One little nibble wouldn’t go amiss. The scandal would be minimal. Problem was, he wouldn’t stop there.
“Vow to me that you won’t do it again.” He let her hear the fear that welled up in his heart at the thought.
“I don’t vow to anything. Not anymore.”
He raised a brow at her, sensing the truth in her statement, though eight months ago she’d been under a vow. He’d discovered that much during their weekend together. At the time, she’d refused to tell him who—Noble, apparently—and he hadn’t pressed, thinking they had all the time in the world. Then she’d disappeared.
He spun her past his mother again, who was smiling like the wolf that ate his master’s wand and then ate his master. The crowd was rapt, oblivious to the currents passing between him and his enchantress, currents that Aurora worked to conceal with a soft, blank smile. She was a natural.
“Too busy making illegal eyes to bother with another vow?”
“He was my father, Edmund.”
Shit. He hadn’t seen that coming. She was one secret after the other. A metallist mage with an enchantress daughter? Who knew that was even possible?
“How long do I have to stay until we’re even?”
“Until your glittery goodness cleans off the black that smothers my reputation.”
“I hate cleaning.”
He smiled at the passion in her voice. “Then I’ll make you a deal. I’ll do the cleaning if you’ll just stand beside me.” He softened his tone and brushed his lips against her ear. “How long have you been back in Rallis Territory? We’ve wasted time. I haven’t felt so...lighthearted...since.” A word he’d never used to describe himself. He glanced up at her glistening branches, her defense against his dark spell. “Though you tempt me to do things I shouldn’t. I’m too dangerous to let loose. Yet, I’ve been around you twice and done just that. You make me dangerous.”
* * * *
After tonight, every newspaper in the Republic would herald the message that a new enchanter mage was on the scene. The Nobles, the sole family to whom she’d ever vowed, had agreed to conceal her from the public eye. When the vow expired, she’d come home to anonymity and kept it, an absolute necessity for the forest people. Edmund had changed the rules on her, and his closeness, his scent of darkness and warmth, was fogging her mind exactly when she needed to stay sharp.
“You’re already plenty dangerous, Edmund Rallis. If I make you more so, then it’s a sur
e sign we should part ways for good. I’m not one of those girls who likes danger.”
He chuckled softly and then whispered something that sounded like crickets.
“Hmm.” His sound vibrated through her. “I was unaware that the forbidden forest is where all the safety-inclined girls hang out.”
She looked away and fought to keep her breathing even.
“Unless you have something else to hide, you’re safe enough, Ror.” He nodded at the privileged mages in attendance. “You just became these people’s dearest champion.”
“These people don’t need a champion. They’re rich. They’re powerful. They make the rules to their advantage.”
The crowd’s amused snickers caught her ear. She blinked, startled, and ground to a halt. “The music stopped.” An instant burn ignited in her cheeks. Goddess, the pair of them looked like fools.
She turned her gaze back to him and almost huffed at his expression. From the satisfied gleam in his eyes, he’d heard the song conclude, but had kept her in his arms. Of course he wouldn’t care about looking foolish. He was a prince in this land. He set the trends and blazed the trails while the entire Republic watched. She couldn’t afford to be dragged into his games.
A flash of light sprang from a reporter’s short wand as he recorded their image for his newspaper. Applause smattered around the ballroom in appreciation for their show.
Edmund tucked her hand into his elbow and led her off the floor, stopping ten paces from Senator Rallis. Dear goddess. The senator. And his son. On the other side of her, Edmund’s brother stood with his woman. The pair was unmarried. Instead, they were mated by a weave of power. The entire Republic knew that bit of gossip.
For the moment, the Rallis family seemed content to keep their distance. Aurora looked away. Staring at them would only encourage them to venture closer.
While the nosy crowd pressed closer, a waiter walked up with two glasses of amber liquid. No need to search out the bar. The drinks came to them. Of course, they did. Because that was how life worked for the founding families. Edmund took both glasses as two men in dark gray uniforms, scarlet sashes crossing their chest, took up guard on either side of them. Rallis sentries. The crowd took a collective step back. Privacy under the gaze of the public.
With an easy smile, Edmund handed her a glass. The drink’s sharp scent caught her nose, a blend of heat and spice that kindled memories of kisses in the moonlight. His smile widened. Recognition must have crossed her face. This wasn’t the expensive stuff the crowd would expect.
During their weekend together, he’d poured her a drink of Bare Witch’s Whiskey. In fact, they’d consumed half the bottle. He’d made her coffee over the fire the next morning to soothe away her headache.
She narrowed her eyes, drilling a hole in the memories. “So, what’s it gonna be, Mundie? What does the heir toast to now? Screw the rules, like before? Or is it screw the rest; we’re the best?”
He tipped his head to the side, the answer to her question clear in his face. She supposed it was inevitable, yet he’d broken the rules for her by destroying evidence. He’d protected her…and left her craving more. A dangerous and impossible desire. His arms would become a noose around her neck.
He lifted his glass higher and once again projected his voice so it rang to every mage in the ballroom. “To my earth-bound star who shines her light among the dark.” He touched his glass to hers as the “hear, hears” resounded around them.
The attention smoldered against her skin, though she wasn’t ashamed of the accuracy of his statement. She’d rather glow like the moon soaking up the proud night than sear the darkness like the sun. She held his gaze and downed her drink. The burn slid down her throat, heating the rest of her as well. But he wasn’t done with his toast.
“And to my new mission of keeping you out of trouble.” He kept those words between them.
Oh, she was in trouble all right. “You’ve only caused me more with this ball. We both know that wasn’t an invitation you issued.” No, it had been an order.
Edmund laughed. “And you, my little rebel, dared to wear black.”
“I’m not a rebel.” She forced the words through gritted teeth. Despite two men in two days accusing her of such, she knew her heart. The only desire that lived there was for life for all.
“An enchantress who lives with dark mages and who wears black to a white ball.” He laughed again. “Princess, your rebel heart practically vibrates with its own fight song. But this,” he gestured at the crowd, “is for your own good. You’re inclined to trouble when left on your own.” He reached out and stroked a finger along her temple and down the side of her face. “You’re not alone anymore.” His gaze focused over her shoulder, and he gathered her to his side with a firm hand, a sheltering move. She went with his touch, almost instinctive, belonging there with such ease she had to close her eyes against it. Just for a moment. She opened them to meet Lady Helen Rallis’s bold stare.
“Mother.” Edmund’s greeting was awarded with a pat on the cheek from the lady of the land.
“I pondered wearing black. It’s not often I meet someone so daring.” Lady Rallis examined Aurora head to foot. She smiled, her shiny red lips gleaming.
Cowering wasn’t an option. This woman was one of the suns that seared, who’d never comprehend that a gentle touch allowed all to bask instead of quail. Even her son had been forced to tuck his darkness away from her ray. Aurora held her gaze.
Lady Rallis smile grew. “You’re lovely, my dear.” She turned her gaze to her son. “It’s almost time for the announcements. You go on. I’ll keep your little rebel out of trouble while you’re gone.”
From the sudden wrinkle in his forehead, Aurora was sure he, too, was mentally replaying their conversation. What had his mother heard? A whisper of nerves brushed against Aurora’s vibes.
“I thought to take her with me.” He delivered his quick answer with his game face restored.
“On stage?” Lady Rallis tipped her head. “What? Are we announcing the acquisition of the enchantress? Excellent.”
Aurora sucked in a breath. “I don’t have to vow loyalty.” But they both ignored her.
Edmund shook his head. “Ah, Mother. Such beauty can never be acquired, only provided a secure place to alight.” His version of a safe perch was likely a tower at Rallis Hall, one with a lock. He flicked his mother’s shoulder where a spray of white feathers topped her sleek dress. “You look like you just ate the little bird that perched next to you. I’ll leave her with Vin.”
“Edmund.” Lady Rallis’s voice wavered, sounding hurt as she pressed a hand over her heart. “You can trust me to keep all her feathers intact.”
He gave his mother a hard stare and then looked down at Aurora. “If she tries anything, coat her in glitter. I’ll come rescue you, and we’ll escape to the Wild West never to be heard from again.”
Lady Rallis gave a gasping laugh. A senator’s heir would never abandon the Republic of Mage Territories, which stretched from the Atlantic to the Mississippi. To the west was unclaimed land, populated with renegade mages, Nons, natives, fairies, and criminals…not privileged, powerful founders.
He bowed and pivoted on his heel leaving her with his mother. Her nerves stretched farther. Goddess, the last thing she needed was to puff glitter now.
Lady Rallis blinked at her. “Well, he was telling the truth. He’d leave this all behind. For you.” Her mouth dropped, then her eyes softened. Maternal sentiment set in but only for a second. With a quick shake of her head, the expected cunning sharpness returned. “We’re so pleased you were free to attend tonight. Edmund has told us all about you.”
Free? What did she mean by free? Versus jailed on death row?
“May I call you Aurora? You must call me Helen. What do you think of the ball?”
Aurora searched her mind for some other truth that she could offer other than the fact that this party was the most dangerous place she’d ev
er stepped foot in. This room was filled with people who would destroy her and her makeshift family if they found out her secret. “It’s very white.”
Helen tipped her head in salute. “A nice summation. And it’s all the more white thanks to you. Your branches are lovely.” She nodded at a woman across the room. “That’s the decorating committee chair. She’s probably up in wands that you bested her decorations. Oh, look. The show’s about to begin. I’m afraid it’s not very interesting tonight. Just political appointments.” She turned toward the stage.
The crowd quieted as the senator headed a procession of four up to the platform, Edmund among them. At the top, the senator faced the crowd. Around his neck, the Rallis medallion gleamed, catching the light and demanding recognition.
Helen leaned in, throwing her next words to Aurora’s ear. “Your entrance outshines this. Whatever inspired you?”
The expectant smile on Lady Rallis’s face had an anticipatory gleam. Did she know Edmund had cast his destructive spell?
“My entrance was a necessity.”
On the stage, P.U.R.E’s director babbled a welcome, but Aurora ignored him, throwing her whispered words directly to Helen’s ear. “I couldn’t possibly have attended a ball so poorly decorated. I do have standards.”
Lady Rallis’s laugh waved over the silent crowd. Every gaze turned to them. On the stage, Edmund’s father grinned and leaned in to his son to say something. Edmund winked at her. P.U.R.E.’s top guy continued his spiel with an uncertain voice, eyeing Lady Rallis as if he wasn’t sure she was going to let everyone in on the big funny or if she was laughing at him.
“Poorly decorated indeed.” Helen cast whispered words back. “I’m sure all the other enchantresses would feel the same. All the other three in existence, that is. None of them can get enough attention or accolades. They live quite publicly, frequently communing with the goddess. Naked. For all to see.”
“Not my style. Neither the attention, nor the public communing rituals. Besides, it’s been cloudy for over forty days. There’s no light to commune with.” The edges of her soul were wilting from it.