by SM Reine
“You’re not nervous, are you?”
Marion’s laugh was a little too high-pitched to be convincing. “I don’t get nervous.”
“You didn’t use to.” Konig led her with a hand spread across the small of her back, his movements swift and sure. “You’re not who you used to be, though.” He said the second part with his lips close enough to hers that she tasted the cordial on his breath.
“I’m doing what I can, but I feel like a fraud.”
“I love you, princess,” he said. “I love you. You’re still my princess. You still own every single person watching us, and even if you’ve forgotten that, I haven’t.” He spun her so that her back pressed to his chest, and his lips touched her temple. “You look exceptionally beautiful tonight.”
When she smiled this time, it was genuine. “It’s hard to imagine that I used to handle these situations with confidence.”
“Think less and enjoy more. It’s the sidhe way.” When he spun her again, he caught a goblet from a server and offered it to her. This was not cordial, but wine, rich and heady.
If Konig was good at anything, it was dancing. He’d told her recently that his father used to be what Konig described as a “rock god,” and he’d grown up in a household with music throbbing at its heart. His body showed familiarity with the orchestra’s thumping strains, accompanied by massive drums and even a couple of electric guitars.
He wasn’t a classically trained dancer, but he had such charisma that he didn’t need to be.
By the time the first song ended, Marion was actually enjoying herself.
They were joined by others for the second song, and the third. The more that Marion smiled and laughed, the more people seemed willing to join in.
She really did own them all.
It was during the fifth song—or the sixth?—that Nori appeared beside them, head low, hands clasped.
“May I have a moment of your time, Prince?” she asked. “Sorry, Marion.”
Marion broke away from Konig. She had actually worked up a little bit of a sweat, which she hadn’t thought possible in the Winter Court. “Business calls?”
“Always, I’m afraid,” Nori said.
“I won’t be long,” Konig said, kissing Marion.
Whether it was the wine, the music, or the confidence Konig shared with her, Marion felt emboldened. She didn’t let him pull away. She grabbed a fistful of his long black hair and kissed him harder.
There was fire in his eyes when she finally let him go.
“Princess,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along her jawline. “You tease.”
Then Konig left with Nori. Marion was alone on the dance floor.
Rylie appeared beside her. “You look disappointed. Want to dance?”
“No thank you,” Marion said coolly. “Kind of you to think of me, though.”
A male waiter dressed as minimally as his female counterparts passed them. Patterns of frost barely concealed his manhood. Marion blushed hot as she grabbed a fresh glass of wine.
She wished it had been a Long Island Iced Tea.
“You’ve done well with the ballroom,” Rylie said.
“It’s the work of my mother-in-law,” Marion said. “I’m not allowed to make decisions surrounding my wedding.”
“It’s your life,” the Alpha said. “Don’t let others control you.”
“With all due respect, I’d prefer not to have this conversation with you,” Marion said. “At least my mother-in-law probably doesn’t have a contingency plan for murdering me. The sidhe respect me.”
Shock widened Rylie’s eyes. “Marion, I—” And then the shock turned to blankness.
She was looking at something over Marion’s shoulder.
Marion turned.
Even though the snow-fogged ballroom was packed with politicians and their assistants, one person in particular leaped out to Marion among all the rest. It wasn’t just because the man wasn’t dressed for a formal occasion in a black t-shirt and Carhartts.
Seth joined Marion and Rylie. He wasn’t wearing his under-the-shoulder rig, but Marion peeked behind him, and the bulge at the small of his back confirmed that he was armed.
It wasn’t a social visit.
“We need to talk,” Seth said.
Rylie ran her fingers through her hair, straightening imagined tangles. “Of course.”
“No, sorry,” he said. “I’m talking to Marion.” He offered a hand to her. “Do you want to dance?”
Behind the orchestra at the head of the ballroom, veils sectioned sound equipment from the rest of the party. Even magical equipment still needed cabling, speakers, and lights, and veils had been less resource intensive than a glamour spell to hide them.
That was where Konig dragged Nori, pinning her against a speaker as he kissed her.
Nori tasted more like burnt grass than oak like Marion did. But with his eyes closed, he could imagine she was Marion. He could imagine that he was getting revenge against his fiancée by pressing forcefully against Nori’s body, feeling all the places that Marion wouldn’t allow Konig to touch.
Marion had been showing her perfect body off, flashing the majesty of her ethereal power, and even kissing him…but refusing sex. For weeks. Months.
She had to know what it was doing to him. It must have been a deliberate play to torture him.
Marion had lost her memory, but she hadn’t really changed.
Konig had selected Nori’s dress for this occasion, making sure that the slit rode high enough on her thigh that he could get access without needing to strip her. The bodice, likewise, was loose enough that his hands could slip inside.
His fingers caressed her. She sighed.
“I really do want to talk to you,” Nori gasped against his neck, clinging to his shoulders. “It’s—oh, Konig—”
“Quiet.” He pressed his hand over her mouth. “We’re barely concealed back here. We don’t want to be found.”
The danger of it must have thrilled her because she groaned under his palm.
Konig made use of Nori quickly, though not without compassion for how aroused she would be under his ministrations. It had quickly become obvious that Nori was addicted to the sensual magic of the unseelie. She loved every instant that he touched her, was inside her. And he knew her body well enough to bring her to the point of ecstasy within minutes, while still satisfying himself.
He wasn’t selfish or selfless. The sidhe knew that sex was best when all came away satisfied.
And they did.
Konig put Nori’s dress and hair to rights while she was still slumped, panting, atop the speaker. “Now tell me what you wanted to say.”
“Deirdre Tombs,” Nori said. “I found information on her, like you wanted me to.”
“You’ve got my attention.”
“She used to be a terrorist. She was affiliated with a shifter who killed hundreds of innocent people a few years ago—do you remember the elections for Alpha? The opposition?”
“Everton Stark, yes. Deirdre Tombs was his Beta. There was scandal about her rise in politics after that, but she’s been clean ever since. She’s considered redeemed.”
“Then why does she spend three months a year in South Africa, visiting a property owned by the Stark family? She goes out of her way to conceal her travel plans. People aren’t supposed to know where she goes.”
“How did you find out?”
“I’m half-angel. I picked stuff up out of Deirdre’s mind and did research on the darknet using your login.”
“She’s still associated with the Starks.” Konig considered this as he absently stroked Nori’s hair.
“Can you use that?” Nori asked.
“I might be able to,” Konig said. “You’ve done good work, Nori. Thank you.”
She blushed. “If you need anything else, you can tell me.”
“I will,” he said, sliding his hand briefly into her bodice again. “And I do.” There was power in their kiss—lingering vestiges of tha
t which he hadn’t claimed during their hurried sexual interlude. It fed Konig, strengthening him in a way that even wine and ambrosia could not.
But when he stepped away, he realized he wasn’t alone.
His mother was watching from among the veils. They fluttered in the motion of dancers on the other side, offering him only the barest glimpses of the Onyx Queen, and making her expression impossible to read.
How long had she been watching?
She drifted away.
“Damn,” Konig muttered.
“What’s wrong?” Nori hadn’t seen Violet.
“Nothing, pet.” He swatted her on the butt. “Get back to the party before anyone notices that you’re missing. Stay away from the shifters. You don’t want them to smell you.”
Her cheeks turned pink, but she nodded.
She returned to the party.
Konig went looking for his mother.
“Where are you?” he muttered, pushing veils aside. Violet’s perfume lingered on the air. It was the same scent she’d been wearing since he was a child who attended court cuddled in her lap.
The scent dissipated when he got to the hallway behind the equipment, and he didn’t see his mother.
A different figure raced down the far end of the hall, vanishing around the corner.
Konig turned to fog—a pure energy form that only the strongest sidhe could assume. He slipped into the shadows unseen.
Leaving his body made it harder to see and hear. He got a vague sense of the person, more energy than anything else. It was probably human. Possibly female. Drenched in adrenaline. They didn’t belong in that hallway.
An intruder.
By the time he regained his human form, the human had disappeared again.
Niflheimr was obscure to even a boy who’d grown up in the labyrinth of Myrkheimr. He opened nearby doors and peered down halls, but couldn’t find the human.
Konig reached into his pocket to grip a white statuette. It was similar to the ones that Nori and Marion used to communicate. This one summoned Heather Cobweb to his side immediately, accompanied by one of the Raven Knights that Konig didn’t recognize.
“Someone’s in the palace who isn’t attending the party. Someone dressed in a long black jacket, approximately this tall.” Konig lifted his hand to his chest. “Detain them for me.”
Heather pressed a fist to her chest and bowed.
She and the Raven Knight vanished.
14
Marion felt painfully conspicuous when she’d been dancing with Konig. They were the guests of honor who had dressed to make an impression. Even when she’d been enjoying herself with him, she’d only been able to think about the staring politicians.
When Seth took her onto the dance floor, she was probably far more conspicuous. She was with a man who wasn’t on the guest list or dressed for the party. Or her fiancé, for that matter. But she didn’t feel out of sorts. She was finally right where she was supposed to be.
“I thought you weren’t going to come to my wedding,” Marion said, shining a smile at him.
“This isn’t your wedding,” he pointed out. “It’s just some party.”
“And it’s filled with the same people you don’t want to know about you,” she said. “Aren’t you worried one of the shifters will sniff you out?”
He bowed his head toward her ear. “Who’d think a god would dress like this?”
She giggled. “I don’t care why you’re here. I’m glad to see you.”
His eyes went warm. “Yeah, I’m glad to see you too.” He was so much shorter than Konig that they were nearly nose-to-nose when they danced like that. Seth was a lot less flashy in his dancing than Konig, too. It was a lot more like swaying in place. “Heck of a party.”
“It’s meant to be a way we can lobby for votes.” She sighed. “It’s bribery. Look at them.” Marion nodded toward the couches along the wall.
Ruelle Myön had wasted no time getting what she wanted out of the party. The witch was currently being hand-fed dates by a naked sidhe draped across her chest.
On the couch beside them, a shifter Marion didn’t recognize had wine poured into his mouth by a waiter.
And beyond that, there were movements among the shadowy pillars that Marion couldn’t mistake for eating food.
“By the time the witching hour chimes, half these people will be involved in an orgy. It’s the sidhe way,” Marion said. “Orgasms for world peace.”
Seth nearly choked. She giggled again.
“You’re okay with this?” he asked when he regained the ability to speak.
Nobody had asked Marion that yet. They seemed to assume that becoming queen of an unseelie court meant that she’d want to live as the sidhe did. “No, I suppose I’m not. It’s one thing for the sidhe to make love recreationally, so to speak. It’s another to use it as a tool for coercion. Few mortals can resist sidhe magic, even if they want to.”
“Sounds like there’s not a lot of consent going around,” Seth said, turning them in a slow circle. It gave Marion a great view of Ruelle and the sidhe who had disappeared up her skirt.
Her cheeks went hot. Some engagement party.
“I have a less coercive solution to gathering all the votes, if you’re willing to entertain it,” she said. “You won’t like it.”
“Hard to imagine something I’d like less than this,” Seth said. He was looking at Marion with the kind of intensity that said he was trying not to see what Ruelle was up to.
“Appear in front of the council,” Marion said. “Reveal yourself as the third god of the triad walking the Earth in mortal form. It should be easy to make them believe.” She traced a finger over the glamour pendant nestled in the hollow of his throat. “Then tell them you endorse my wedding to Konig, and you want him to remain Prince of the Autumn Court.”
She could tell by Seth’s expression that she was right. He didn’t like it.
“It would probably work,” he admitted. “They’re only voting because of what you said at the summit—how Elise and James don’t want the angels in the Winter Court.”
“Exactly. If one of the gods takes it back, then you’ll also take the fear that Deirdre has instilled in them. Then I’ll marry Konig, the peace treaty will encompass the Winter Court, and we’ll be safe from further battling. Everyone, in theory, will be happy.”
“Would it make you happy?” Seth asked. The magical twinkling starlight of the ballroom cast his strong features in deep shadows, but the scar on his bottom lip still glowed white.
“Yes,” Marion said. It didn’t sound at all convincing.
“If I come out like this…it’ll change everything. I can’t just say I’m the god of death without taking responsibility for it.”
“There must be a way to continue caring for the Pit of Souls without betraying your nature.”
Seth sighed. “Marion…”
“Please promise me that you’ll think about it.”
“I’ve already thought about becoming Death a lot. Here’s the thing—being a demon-god isn’t just a betrayal to my nature. It would destroy my future. It would destroy me.”
Marion ran her thumb over the glamour pendant, feeling the crackle of energy under her skin. “You’re eternal, Seth.”
“My life isn’t. I fought poverty, abuse, and a life as a werewolf hunter to become a doctor. Going to college was part of the reason I lost Rylie to Abel. And then I defied Elise and James to come back to life and save people, too.” Seth’s hand tightened on hers. “It’d be a hell of a sacrifice if I step into the role of Death and leave everything behind.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “I know it was a terrible idea. I couldn’t ever ask you to do something that huge.”
“That’s another thing,” Seth said. “When you look at me like this, and you ask me to help you, it makes that sacrifice seem small.”
Was the music even playing anymore? Marion couldn’t seem to hear it over her pounding heart.
“I’ll think
about it,” he said. “It’s the only thing I can promise.”
Marion swallowed hard. “That’s not why you came to this party.”
“No, I just came back from searching for Charity in Sheol.” He shook himself like he was waking up from a dream. “Duat’s guarded in a dome of balefire. I couldn’t get in. It felt like she was there, though.”
“Konig said he never saw her body. He just assumed she’d died.”
“Doesn’t matter. If she’s locked in Duat by Arawn, we have to find a way to get her out.” Seth spoke even quieter. “Can you come with me and help?”
Every fiber of Marion’s being wanted to shout yes and race out of the ballroom with him at that moment. That was how she’d ended up in Sheol with him last time. That was why she’d almost died, and almost killed Seth too. And that was how she’d left the Winter Court vulnerable to Leliel’s attack.
It was a selfish urge, and one that she couldn’t entertain, no matter how tempting.
“I wish I could,” Marion said softly.
“Your wedding isn’t until tomorrow.”
“I can’t leave Niflheimr while it’s full of guests. The wards would probably fail. And I must convince the council to vote for us. I’m sorry, Seth. I want to help Charity.”
Seth sighed. “I know you do. I understand. I’d make the same choice in your position.”
There was an unvoiced “but” following those words.
Marion waited for a moment to see if he’d finish his sentence, swaying in place with him as the music slowed. Even slow music performed by the denizens of the Autumn Court had a lot of rhythm to it, the kind of thing that made her want to roll her hips.
“What’s your problem with the wedding?” Marion asked when Seth didn’t elaborate. “I’m right, aren’t I? You have a problem with the wedding. Don’t tell me that you think I can’t handle Niflheimr. I can. I don’t need to be sidhe to rule.”
“That’s not it,” Seth said. “Trust me, I know you. You were born to be a queen.” He didn’t give her enough time to preen over the compliment. “But we both know Konig’s too smart to be mistaken about Charity’s death. If he told you she died, he’s lying.”