by K. L. Thorne
The girls’ attention was quickly caught by a display of shimmering gem stones. Whilst they cooed over the various bracelets and necklaces, Haros stood guard and Dorian went to get a drink that ‘would put hair on their chests.’
When he returned, Dorian was balancing two glasses of hot mulled wine for the ladies and two more steins of ale for himself and Haros in his arms. They each took their drink from the encumbered chef, then Dorian dug through his pockets. He produced four small glass bottles, stoppered with corks.
“Oh, you bad, bad man!” Mivian tittered as she spotted his offering and took one of the bottles from his outstretched hand.
“What is this?” Sivelle asked curiously as Haros handed her a bottle.
“It’s moonshine, with a twist. Best drunk in one smooth hit – don’t sip it.”
They all pulled the corks free from the necks of their bottles.
“To escaping our mundane lives!” Dorian announced, and they each held up their bottles to the toast.
Haros threw the clear, potent smelling liquid back, expertly swallowing the spirit without tasting it. Sivelle and Mivian coughed as the hot burn of the alcohol caught in their throats. Dorian’s eyes watered, but he gulped the liquid down.
Both the princess and her handmaiden drank from their glasses, eager to use the mulled wine to deaden the heat of the spirit. Haros simply grinned and nodded his head in thanks at the chef, who raised his mug at him and took a sip.
The girls returned to admiring the jewellery whilst Dorian and Haros stood off to one side. The demon never took his eyes from Sivelle, gripped by an irrational fear that she could be recognised and snatched away at any moment.
“You know, I can’t quite believe that’s Princess Sivelle.” Dorian leaned in to whisper the faerie’s name. He had already begun to slur his words slightly.
“How so?” Haros asked.
“Well, she’s just so different from her father. I’ve heard a lot about her from Mivian, naturally, but I’d never actually spoken to her before today.” The chef paused to swallow a mouthful of ale. “She’s nice… Much humbler than I’d been expecting.”
“Yeah, she’s something alright,” Haros agreed, fighting a smile as he took another sip from his glass.
“How long have you and she…?”
“A few weeks now.”
Dorian nodded; a plethora of unspoken questions hung in the air between them. Haros just simply filled the silence with more ale.
“The king would be furious if he ever found out about that,” Dorian said.
“So I’ve been told.”
“It’s worth a death sentence, then?” The chef cast his eyes curiously over him.
“Without question.” Haros didn’t hesitate to answer.
Dorian shook his head with a kind smile. “You demons are strange fellows, that’s for sure. It’s something I’ve always envied of your kind, that stalwart loyalty. It’s a rare trait indeed around these parts.”
“It’s not a trait all demons have. I’ve met some scum-sucking, two-faced snakes in my time too.” Haros shrugged.
“Is… is it true what Mivian tells me? You’re one of Zelrus’s men?” Dorian lowered his voice.
“That’s right.”
“What is your king like? Is he anything like ours?”
“They’re chalk and cheese, my friend.” Haros took a sip before continuing. “If Tennul was a good king, then Zelrus is a great one. I have full faith in his ability to restore equality to our people.”
“And he means to war with us to get it?”
“Is that what your mad king has been telling you? No, not at all. War is the last resort for King Zelrus. He simply wants Lazuli to hear his requests and draw up a compromise,” Haros explained.
“I can’t say I’m surprised to discover King Lazuli has been to lying to his own people. Rest assured that many of the townsfolk have lost faith in him. They won’t pay much heed to his propaganda.”
“That’s good to know.”
“I can only speak for myself and those of my friends who have been brave enough to admit it, but I would hazard a guess that a fair percentage of his own people would stand against him if it came down to it.”
Haros paused thoughtfully, mentally filing that away for future use. King Zelrus would be eager to hear this kind of information, if they ever made it back to Banesteppe.
Mivian and Sivelle approached, arm in arm and giggling between themselves. Haros smirked, noticing the healthy glow on Sivelle’s cheeks. Clearly the alcohol she had been plied with was beginning to take effect. The girls parted as they reached them. Mivian took Dorian’s arm in her own and Sivelle wrapped her arms around Haros’s waist. She squeezed him and rested her chin against his chest to look up at him.
“Hi,” she said with one of her irresistible, dazzling smiles.
“You look like you’re enjoying yourself.” He trailed his hand down her back to rest at her waist.
“I think this is the most fun I’ve ever had, Haros.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
He stooped to press another kiss to her lips, surprised when Sivelle grasped him firmly and prised his mouth open with her tongue. Never one to turn down such an offer, Haros dropped his hand to the princess’s bottom and palmed her through her dress.
“Now who’s glued at the mouth, hm?” Mivian teased from beside them.
Haros and Sivelle separated, each with a wide grin.
The two couples walked on, stopping every now and then to gaze at the interesting trinkets some of the stalls had for sale. Mivian bought herself and Sivelle one of the toffee apples she had been enthusing about. As they were walking through the crowds, the princess held it out for Haros to try and he took a large bite, curious to see what all the fuss was about. It was delicious.
At the end of the narrow row of stalls, the fayre opened up again to reveal another, smaller square that was cornered off for dancing. Bodies were already swaying to and fro in time with the lively music the band was playing.
The foursome found another table to sit at on the edge of the makeshift dance floor. A waitress appeared to serve them and Dorian shouted a drinks order at her. Haros watched Sivelle as she observed the dancers keenly.
Their table was positioned just so beneath a large fiery torch. Dorian and Haros had long since removed their cloaks, and Sivelle and Mivian now followed suit. With her back turned to him so she could look at the dancefloor, Haros watched Sivelle’s wings flutter unconsciously with the tempo of the music.
He leant forward and muttered softly into her ear, “Are you going to show them all how it’s done?”
Sivelle brushed her hair over her shoulder, exposing her nape, and Haros couldn’t resist pressing a kiss against her.
“A little more to drink and I don’t think Mivian will be giving me much choice!”
The handmaiden was already looking a little worse for wear, leaning in and whispering unknown sentiments into Dorian’s ear. Judging by the glazed, heated expression on the chef’s face, they weren’t talking about dancing.
Haros sat so he had a leg either side of the wooden bench he and Sivelle shared. He shuffled his body behind her and wrapped his arms around her, watching the dancers with his chin resting on her shoulder.
Sivelle stroked his hands where they rested against her belly, eyes glinting with an excitement she was trying to hide.
Haros rubbed his stubbled jaw against her affectionately, pleased when Sivelle tore her attention away from the dancefloor to look at him from the corner of her eye. He nuzzled his mouth against her neck once more and fought a self-satisfied grin as Sivelle’s long lashes fluttered momentarily.
The waitress returned and placed the drinks Dorian had ordered down on the table – more wine for the ladies and ales for the gentlemen.
They clinked their glasses together with a cheer and all took an eager mouthful. Though they had to shout over the blaring music, they chatted between themselves comfortably like old frien
ds.
Mivian finished her drink quickly and stood, grabbing Sivelle by her hand and pulling the princess to her feet.
“Come on, let’s dance!”
Haros quickly took the half-finished glass of wine from the princess’s out-stretched hand before it split, as Mivian marched her to the dancefloor.
“I think my woman may have had a little too much to drink,” Dorian muttered with a smile suggesting that was a highly desirable turn of events.
“Certainly looks that way.” Haros smirked over the rim of his glass as they watched the two women worming their way through the crowds.
It wasn’t long until they attracted the attention of other male dancers, two of whom were particularly bold and held their hands out in invitation for Sivelle and Mivian to dance with them.
Haros was secretly pleased when Sivelle glanced in his direction, silently asking his permission to dance with the stranger. He smiled and shrugged at her with a subtle nod. The demon marvelled at how unaffected he was by this stranger asking Sivelle to dance with him, comparing it with how he had felt that day in the garden with the faerie captain. Haros supposed it helped that this particular gentleman was no competition for him – being not only much older, but also much less attractive. Not that Haros was keen to speak too proudly of himself.
The stranger could dance, though, that had to be said. The older gentleman moved expertly around Sivelle, twirling her beneath his arm and stepping in time with her. The princess had a wide smile on her face, one that Haros felt deep inside, as if it were his own.
Mivian’s new friend was far less chivalrous, leering at the woman in such a fashion that it was hard to believe the handmaiden hadn’t noticed.
Haros felt Dorian bristling next to him and watched the chef down the last of his drink in one large gulp.
“I suppose I’d best get up there to see that bastard off…” Dorian muttered beneath his breath as he got to his feet.
“Would you like a hand?”
“No, no… Well, let’s see how it goes. If it looks like it’s going to be trouble, I’m sure your stature could lend some persuasion. Let me see if I can get rid of him on my own first.”
Haros nodded and raised his glass to the chef as Dorian muscled his way through the crowd towards Mivian. The demon sat in silence, watching the chef shouting something in the ear of the man who had overstepped his mark.
“You’re brave leaving your horns intact like that, demon!” a voice shouted from his side.
Haros glanced across to a neighbouring table where a group of young faeries were sat. One of the men had called across to him and was eyeing him with curiosity.
“I’m just visiting. I don’t plan to stay long,” Haros replied with a shrug.
“In town for business or pleasure?” one of the women leaned over with a small, flirtatious smile.
“Pleasure, darling. Always pleasure,” Haros retorted with a wink, relishing in the blush that bloomed on her cheeks. “Are you guys enjoying the fayre so far?”
“Every year I think I couldn’t possibly enjoy myself more than the last!” the man shouted, raising his glass.
Haros raised his own and they clinked the rims together.
“Surely you’re not here alone?” another woman shouted across to him.
“No, I’m here with that stunning little thing.” Haros gestured at Sivelle, who was well and truly absorbed in dancing.
The girl’s face fell and she shrugged with a small smile. “Shame.”
“Don’t be such a tart, Fiona!” the man scoffed and smiled apologetically at Haros.
The group turned to chatting amongst themselves once more, and Haros watched his friends on the dancefloor. Dorian, Mivian and Sivelle danced together as a group, the princess finally excusing herself from her dance partner. They were laughing and Sivelle was attempting to teach them a very crude version of the fouetté she had been struggling to master.
Haros nearly choked on his mouthful of ale as Dorian attempted a very clumsy rendition of the move. They fell about laughing.
Haros finished his drink and picked up Sivelle’s wine. He was sure the princess wouldn’t mind, but if she did, he would endeavour to buy her a fresh one when she was finished dancing.
Mivian caught his eye and waved him over. When Haros shook his head and gestured to the glass of wine in his hand, the handmaiden frowned, shouted something to Sivelle and then scurried through the crowd towards him.
Sensing the girl wasn’t going to take no for an answer, Haros downed the half-glass.
“Come on, you spoilsport! Come dance with us!” Mivian whined playfully, gesturing him over from the edge of the dancefloor.
“I don’t really do dancing,” Haros replied, wrinkling his nose.
She snorted. “Neither does Dorian, if you can’t tell! Come on, it’ll be fun.”
With a heavy sigh, Haros got to his feet and allowed the faerie to lead him through the dancers towards Sivelle. Tears of laughter were still rolling down her cheeks and she dabbed them away. Dorian was buckled over, gasping for breath and red in the face with mirth.
“Did you see Dorian’s fouetté?” she asked, dissolving into giggles again.
“I did. You’d make a wonderful ballerina,” Haros teased, and the chef clutched his sides.
“I think I pulled a muscle!” he groaned, which just served to set them all off laughing again.
The band changed its tempo, their song growing deep and slow. Everyone around them halted their feverish jigging, and bodies closed together like magnets.
The hilarity of the situation passed quickly as Dorian tugged Mivian into an embrace, burying his face in her hair. They shuffled slowly in time with the music.
Sivelle glanced over at Haros.
“Ah, now this I can do,” he said, grabbing Sivelle’s hand and pulling her to him. “I’m not much of a dancer, but I am partial to a bit of slow dancing.”
Sivelle pressed herself against him and looped her arms around his neck. Haros squeezed her and rested one palm on her waist, the other at the small of her back. The princess tucked her face into his chest and they swayed back and forth.
“Thank you for encouraging me to do this,” Sivelle mumbled. “I’ve had a wonderful time.”
“You and me both, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of her head.
There was a long pause, laden with unspoken words and feelings. Sivelle’s fingers played in the soft hair at the nape of his neck.
“Haros?” she eventually asked, looking up at him with her beautiful blue doe-eyes.
He gazed back at her, curious as to what words were teetering on the tip of her tongue as she opened and closed her mouth hesitantly.
Haros leant in and pressed a firm kiss to her lips, and Sivelle gratefully melted against him, opening up as he brushed his tongue against hers. He felt his heart begin to pound forcefully in his chest. Sivelle was like an aphrodisiac; he could almost feel her coursing through his veins.
The princess pulled away from him suddenly and the words she had been struggling with tumbled from her.
“I want you to make love to me tonight.”
Haros stared at her, unsure if there was any response that could possibly describe the cocktail of emotion he felt. Instead, he resorted to laying another crushing kiss against the princess’s mouth, hoping it would go some way towards conveying his approval of her suggestion.
Sivelle sighed, her warm breath tickling his cheek, and wrapped her arms tightly around him. They kissed and danced for a few moments longer before the band’s touching melody faded and they began to pluck their instruments in a faster, more jovial pace once more.
Haros and Sivelle parted, the heat between them lingering. A loud bang overhead drew the crowd’s attention as everyone craned to look up at the dark night sky.
Fireworks fizzed and popped, a rainbow of sparks raining down through the darkness.
“Come on, I know a great little place we can watch from.” Dorian ushered them off the
dancefloor and they followed behind, hand in hand.
The chef led them down a dark alleyway that opened up into a busy park. There were groups of other faeries stood upon the bank, or sat on blankets.
Dorian lay his cloak out on the snow for him and Mivian to sit on, and Haros followed suit. He sat himself down and Sivelle shimmied to sit between his legs, leaning back against him. He draped his arms over her shoulders and she held him close.
Haros wasn’t interested in watching the firework display; his eyes were riveted instead to the smooth expanse of Sivelle’s neck.
The park was pitch black. The light from the fireworks was the only fleeting source of illumination. He glanced across at Dorian and Mivian, who were distracted by the display above.
Haros pressed his mouth to Sivelle’s soft skin, trailing kisses against her. The princess’s fingers curled to claws and she pushed herself keenly backwards into his crotch. With a hum of approval, Haros slipped his hand subtly beneath Sivelle’s cloak to paw at her breasts.
Mivian’s frock lacked the usual harsh, constrictive boning that normally encased Sivelle’s body. Haros grunted softly at her ear as he squeezed her. She trembled in his arms, and he hooked his fingers over the neckline of the dress, sweeping the backs of them beneath the material. His hands were cold against Sivelle’s warm flesh, but she didn’t complain. He could feel her heart hammering beneath his touch.
He watched keenly as a firework exploded overhead, illuminating the fog from a needy huff in the frozen night air. Whilst the fireworks continued to rain down, Haros playfully skirted around the edge of his own arousal, determined not to press too far and have to explain the embarrassing bulge in his breeches.
“Oh, stop!” Sivelle complained, her voice barely a whisper. “You’ll make my knees weak.”
Haros nipped gently at the princess’s ear and kissed the delicately pointed tip. She squirmed in his lap and he reluctantly allowed her to escape him.
“Alright, alright. I’ll stop,” Haros conceded, tugging her into a rough, chaste kiss before they sat back to watch the fireworks.
The last of the sparks died down in the sky and the crowds bustled, getting to their feet and moving back towards the fayre.