by Ryan Muree
“Tonight,” Brynn said, “when I get Rowec alone, I’m going to convince him how good we are together. I’ll make sure he’s focused on what matters. No distractions. No outbursts. He’ll see me. He’ll fall in love, and if not, he’ll see reason that saving others is the right thing to do. We’re both strong, born to protect our people. He and I have an understanding that others don’t. We have responsibilities, and tonight, he’ll see how good of a match we can be for each other.”
Nida inhaled. She should’ve bit her tongue. She shouldn’t have said a word. But Brynn was taunting her. Maybe it was losing everything at once, or maybe it was because of all the guilt—either way, she couldn’t hold back. “What’s the point?”
Brynn froze. “What?”
Ascara held her arm. “Nida, don’t. Let it go.”
“Even if he fell in love with you, you’d only be mates until the ceremony.” She had tried not to clench her jaw when she’d said it.
Brynn smiled and fixed a loose strand of Nida’s hair. “Oh, sweetie, don’t be upset. Soon you’ll have a temple full of new sisters to care for. Everyone will be so happy, you’ll be busy, and he won’t even remember you.” Smile gone, she lowered her chin and whispered. “Now, behave, or I’ll lock you up in his old cell.”
Ascara gasped, and Nida turned so Brynn couldn’t see her face. Brynn might get most of tonight with Rowec, but Nida would steal a moment. Just a moment. And Brynn wouldn’t get to sacrifice him.
“Come on, girls. The party is about to start!” Brynn pushed past her, and they followed.
CHAPTER 17
Rowec peered down at his gold… suit?
He shook his head and stood back from the long mirror, adjusting his collar and his vest.
He looked… ridiculous.
His perfect-fitting pants were pressed crisp and lined with a gold metallic trim down the sides. His white undershirt, though a bit goofy-looking with all the fabric at his arms bulging out like fluffy clouds, was light and pristine. His gold-colored vest was embroidered with gold thread into geometric patterns.
It wouldn’t have been his first, second, or last choice, clearly, but then again, he had never worn anything like this before. Warriors didn’t dress up unless it was armor for fighting. Not to mention the weavers in his village didn’t make clothes like these.
He turned again and again. So the gold was too much, but he did look trim. His arms looked bulky and strong. His thighs looked pretty good, too. Even his neck looked thicker and stronger in this get-up.
Maybe it was the suit. Maybe it was all the training he had time for. A couple days without Nida was more than he could bear.
He rubbed his freshly shaven jaw, remembering how Lavyra and the yellow-scaled guard had held him down while a blue-scaled guard had used the sharp end of her claw to shave his face for him. He didn’t struggle; he behaved. He wasn’t interested in being stupid with a claw that close to his throat.
A few tins of powders and paints had been brought in and placed on his bedside table. He opened them, revealing bright greens and purples, and sniffed them.
Nope.
Unless it was black, greasy, and just before a war, he would not be wearing anything on his face.
Raz stirred in his pocket for the twentieth time.
“I’m sorry, little guy.” He patted the outside of his vest pocket carefully. “I know it’s not my old pocket, but it’s just for the night. I’ll make it up to you with paratils later. I’m sure Nida will get us some.”
Nida.
His heart made a silly jump every time he thought of her at the festival. He couldn’t wait to see her. He couldn’t wait to ask her to dance.
If that’s even a thing they do.
Festivals in his village had dancing. Didn’t most celebrations? Hadn’t she mentioned it? She had to have. Of course they danced. He didn’t want to admit it before, but they weren’t that different from humans.
Well, Nida isn’t.
She was wholesome and genuine. She was better than most humans, even. She deserved so much more than this temple and this way of living. She deserved to be free to decide what she wanted.
And he did, too.
In a few days’ time, his purple- and yellow-scaled guards would permanently switch—thanks to the information he’d overheard the previous night.
And when I get home, I’ll tell the chief and the elders that I’m not marrying Etta.
Screw them and their politics. He didn’t care how much Etta was admired by the other warriors or by how many favors her father had given to elders. It was his life. Here, he was fighting to get back to his life. There, he would fight to live it.
And maybe Nida will be with me. Hopefully.
The curtain at his room’s entrance parted.
“It’s time,” Lavyra said.
He took a deep breath and followed her out.
No more dragging or forcing him places, it appeared they trusted he’d follow their commands. It was most likely due to Nida’s daily visits to ensure he was eating and drinking, and not being mistreated. Daily until recently.
Tonight would be his first chance to see what she’d wanted to tell him those few nights before. He was almost giddy to see her.
They led him through the temple and toward the main hall.
Every sconce along the way had been lit, enveloping the temple in a bright, warm glow. Some of the ceilings had the same mechanisms to open like in the hatchery, and if they did, they were open, letting in the sweet, night air under a blanket of stars. Squealing and giggling echoed down the corridors, growing louder with each step.
Finally through the maze, his escort approached two large doors.
Nida’s youngest sisters stood in the hallway in front of the doors. Their hair had been done up with ribbons; their dresses glittered in the firelight. They ogled and pointed at him as he passed.
The guards peeled back the doors and revealed a yellow staircase descending into a massive hall filled with Tialans. The ceiling had been opened, sconces flickered along the walls, banners and streamers of metallic fabrics fluttered from the exposed golden trusses, and along one side of the room glass windows peered out over the durlo garden.
Easily over a hundred Tialan eyes turned and blinked at him.
The room silenced, and his stomach dropped.
What had he been expected to do? No one warned him about needing to say or present anything. Nida hadn’t mentioned it.
And what was he so worried about? How could he have been expected to know what to do?
Brynntial appeared at the bottom of the stairs. She either had a closet full of the same dress or he was losing his mind. It looked identical to the last one he saw her in on the night of their “dinner.”
She stood still. Was he supposed to go to her?
Ugh. I do not want to go to her.
His eyes scanned the crowd’s bulbous stare for familiar, human eyes. Where was she? Nida said she’d come. She was there, right?
“Please, join me,” Brynntial called up to him.
He took a deep breath and descended the stairs. At once the bustle of the hall returned, and all of the sisters refocused on their previous conversations.
Brynntial grinned; he shuddered.
Her smile was made creepier by the overdrawn red lipstick. “I’m so glad you’re here to join us.” She held out her hand as if to shake his.
What the—
When she held it there clearly waiting for him to respond, he slid his hand in hers and shook it.
“Nida was telling me some of your customs. I would love to hear more about them.”
Nida?
He glanced beyond Brynntial’s shoulder and found her—Nida—giggling with Ascara.
It was as if the skies had parted in a storm, and she was the ray of light in a new dawn. Her hair was up, and her skin and teal scales along her neck were exposed. Her shape in that dress…
He caught himself and swallowed. “Yes, well, she’s become
quite accustomed to a few of them.”
Brynntial put her hands on her hips. “I know our last meeting wasn’t as productive as we had hoped. But I believe, now, you’re ready to be more receptive. A dance, please?”
When music began playing from a terrace above the tables of food, most of the sisters took to the dance floor.
“Sure.” He suspected he didn’t have much of a choice.
Brynntial bowed her head. “Move me like you move your women. Mold me into what you need.” She pressed her body against his and held his hands out to the side.
“O-okay.” What was wrong with her? Was she drunk? Was she insane? Was this her attempt at getting along with him?
Is she flirting?
He held back the urge to audibly express how gross that would be. She had to have been trying to appear romantic, and if she hadn’t been… well, her, then it’d be hilarious. Apparently, Nida thought it was hilarious anyway, because she was laughing and holding her stomach while watching him.
He grinned, put some space between their bodies, and began a slow dud of a dance. It was the first one taught to the children in his village. Stiff, boring, and not anything that Brynntial would want—it was perfect.
Meanwhile it gave him the chance to see Nida behind her.
Nida was… gorgeous.
“Aren’t we supposed to spin or something?” Brynntial said.
He blinked and focused on her. “Uh, no. This is it.”
“Swaying in one place?”
“Uh huh.”
“Barely touching?”
“It’s a sacred dance of my people,” he lied.
She straightened her back as if taking it more seriously.
He would tell Nida how he felt. He would go to her as soon as the song was over, he’d ask her to dance and tell her just how she made him feel. Just a few more steps. Just a few more beats…
The song ended.
“Great! Now, we get to try one of ours.” Brynntial gripped his wrists and spun him.
Several sisters around them whooped and hollered in support of their dancing. Rather, Brynntial danced, and he stood there not sure how to respond.
Nida covered her mouth and smiled from the side while Brynntial danced and slithered around him.
It wasn’t particularly flirty in nature. He had seen some of the other sisters dancing with one another this way in the last song, but Brynntial… She was taking it to a different level. Sliding her body against his, running her clawed fingers through his hair and over his face.
It took every ounce of energy to not appear repulsed.
Keep it together. Keep it together.
He took a deep breath and focused on Nida.
“You are the object of my desire,” Brynntial breathed, and then she spun away.
“An object?”
Brynntial returned, both hands on his chest and her face close. “Yes. You are the honored guest. The source of the life Vigor we need. I was wrong before. Wrong in how I spoke to you. We need to be looking at this like a couple. A couple soon to have the greatest legacy of their time.”
“I don’t know about that.”
She shrugged, seemingly lost in the moment of the dance and the music. She slithered alongside him, rubbing her hands down his arms and sides.
“Okay, that’s a little…” He moved away slightly and pried her hands off.
They were quick to return. “All of the previous queens and their mates fell in love. Deep love before the ceremony.” Her breath stunk of fermented fruit.
“Uh… sure…” She’s absolutely delusional.
“We can do the same. You can live in my quarters for the next week. We can spend every waking moment worshiping each other—”
He glanced over her shoulder. Nida was standing alone. When the song was over, he’d have his chance.
“Let’s worship each other, Rowan.”
“Rowec, and I’m going to pass on that.”
When the song had finally ended, she panted and stared up at him. Her eyes almost looked sad—if that was possible. But he was done being nice and dealing with her craziness. He’d already agreed to the ceremony, and he’d already told her he wouldn’t pretend to be in love with her.
Another song started, and she grabbed his hand.
He yanked it away. “Brynntial, I’m sorry, but I already told you that I’m not doing whatever this is. I’m not interested in you. At all. I never will be. I said I’d stay for the ceremony and nothing else.”
He tore away from her and headed for Nida.
“Wait, I...” Brynntial’s voice was thankfully swallowed by the din of the hall.
Nida froze where she stood, her eyes growing wider.
The room froze. The music stopped. Silent. Still. All eyes on him.
Here goes nothing.
He bent forward and held out his hand to her. “Nida, will you please dance with me?”
CHAPTER 18
Nida held her breath.
Ascara was staring her down from the food table. If her jaw could drop any lower, it would have. All of her sisters gasped and mumbled to one another.
He shouldn’t have asked. He wasn’t supposed to be focused on anyone but Brynn.
But how would he know that? Nida hadn’t told him what to expect. He didn’t know their customs, and Brynn hadn’t let her near him.
She should have told him the second he was interested in seeing her there. She should have explained how it worked. There was no escaping the judging eyes of her sisters.
“If you don’t want to,” Rowec mumbled, “I understand, but please don’t leave me bowing like this without an answer.”
She blinked and glanced up at Brynn, whose eyes drooped. She huffed and nodded, waving for her to accept.
Was it a trick? Had she conceded?
Sisters quickly ran to Brynn, fawning over her, telling her how lovely she looked on the dance floor.
“Yes, yes. I know, very generous of me,” Brynn said over and over.
Brynn hadn’t conceded, and she hadn’t said ‘yes’ because it was the nice thing to do.
Nida didn’t care. This was her moment. Just a moment was all she needed. She smiled. “Yes, Rowec. I’ll dance with you.”
She slid her hand into his, and he squeezed it in return.
Warmth. Safety. The things he made her feel with just her hand in his.
He pulled her to the dance floor and into his arms closer, much closer, than he’d held Brynn. He placed her hand at his shoulder as his arm held her waist against him. Their other hands locked together to the side. He was solid, and yet bent around her like he had been made just for her.
Every inch of her wanted to squeal and cheer and melt and… and…
And yet, none of her knew what to do or what to think or what to feel. Or where to look. His bright-green eyes under thick eyebrows were right there, soft and yet piercing. Was he comfortable this close to her? He seemed so. His lips, right there. His face so smooth. It was just… him. She looked at him—all of him.
He hated gold, but it suited him. He looked like a king, like a god. And without it all on? Heat rose up her chest and neck.
Ascara had gotten to her, apparently.
She had gotten a small peek of what had been under that suit at the fountains that night in the garden.
She had wanted to ask him about the few scars he had along his toned back. She had wanted to ask him about the black designs down his arms. She had wanted to stare at him for as long as possible, wondering if Ascara had been right about him being gifted everywhere.
She blinked and took a deep breath
“You’re blushing,” he whispered.
Whispers meant only for her.
She tore her eyes away and focused on a button near his collar. “It’s just that being the center of attention like this can be unnerving.”
“Don’t worry. You dance well.”
She didn’t. She just fit with him. Moving with him made sense.
She dipped her head. “Not as well as Brynn.”
He released a burst of real and very loud laughter and pulled her closer. Chest to chest, she giggled.