by Jill Archer
Predictably, Babette ordered the Nonpareil and Fitz the Golden Russet. Fitz’s first attempt at a fireball was so clumsy he would have set my dress on fire had it been real. I gave him a mock glare as he howled with mirth. Babette dragged him away from me, looking mildly terrified that I might lash out with the real thing. Ari asked what I’d like, and I told him to surprise me. He picked the Summer Queen.
“No Northern Spice?” I asked teasingly, glancing at the canoodling couples out on the western balcony.
“That’s like offering me an eye dropper full of water when I’m drowning in the Lethe.”
Oh. Damn, Ari. Now my cheeks were the color of my drink.
I sipped demurely, trying to rid myself of images of Ari. Things he’d done to me. Things I wanted him to do to me. All the while aware of his gaze on me, and the fact that he likely guessed my thoughts, and without a doubt knew my feelings. I drained my drink, feeling deliciously woozy. My limbs suddenly felt supple and strong; my feet nimble and quick. The heavy beats of the music resonated within my chest wall. Wildly, impossibly, I felt my heart rhythm change to the beat of the music. My body became an elastic drum as the beats pounded against me and through me. The high ethereal notes I’d heard before now tinkled like bells along my skin. It was the lightest touch, like a lover’s caress. I shivered as the music made its way up my arms, across the swelling tops of my breasts, over my cheekbones with the barest feather light touch. Into my ears, where it tickled and teased, confusing my senses. I knew it was magic, but my body could no longer distinguish between sound and touch. It was an amazingly erotic feeling.
Had anyone else ordered the Summer Queen?
The bartender smiled at me, a little too lasciviously for Ari’s tastes. Ari offered me his hand, growling, “Let’s dance.”
He led me out onto the dance floor and twirled me around for an opening presentation. I let Ari and the music lead me. It didn’t surprise me that Ari was a great dancer even without the drink. I had yet to find something he wasn’t good at. As Ari held me, I felt his signature change into that tingly electric feeling Ari called arousal. I sensed that he’d exercised the utmost restraint since Lekai. That he’d honored my wishes to act appropriately in public and stay apart at great cost to his self-control. Caught up in the moment, I lost track of how many times Ari set me free, spinning me endlessly like a flaming silk taffeta top. Always, he caught me, his strong hand reaching for mine or his firm grip encircling my waist. Each time my heart skipped like a flat rock thrown across still water. But my feet never faltered. I gave myself over to the man and the music, knowing that tonight there would be no holding back.
We dipped and swayed and I thoroughly enjoyed myself, nearly forgetting about the myriad things in my life there were to worry about. I was bent back over Ari’s arm, my head nearly upside down, when I felt him stiffen. I came back up suddenly, the first clumsy move I’d made all night thanks to the Summer Queen, and skittered to a stop in Ari’s arms. Despite the music, he’d gone still. I turned around abruptly to see what had caused his reaction.
I suppose I should have known. This annual Barrister’s Ball really was the biggest event in New Babylon tonight. Sure, the St. Luck’s and Joshua School people were present. But that would have made it of no more importance than the book fair they held down in Timothy’s Square every year. No, the real reason this event was so important was that important people came to it. Members of the Divinity. Members of the Council. Sometimes, even the executive.
“F-Father,” I stammered, unconsciously backing into Ari. It wasn’t that I was afraid of my father. Not exactly.
But even if you were related to Karanos Onyx, it was still unnerving to have the single most powerful person in Halja standing not two feet in front of you, giving you their undivided attention. My father radiated power. He was well over six feet tall and substantially built. His suit hung impeccably from his imposing frame, in a color blacker than blindness. Its custom cut, the cloth it was made from, even the gold and sapphire buttons spoke of the wealth and influence he held. His eyes were as dark as mine but, eerily, when I looked at him, the brightness that should have been reflected from the dance floor lights or the myriad candles, wasn’t there. Neither was his signature. I’d never remembered him having one. But I thought I’d just forgotten what it had felt like because of inadequate exposure.
“Enjoying yourself, Nouiomo?” he said. I couldn’t be sure, Karanos wasn’t one to broadcast something as petty as emotions, but I thought he might have been amused. Or scornful.
Ari’s hands rested lightly on my shoulders. He had powered his signature down to the lowest hum. The electric jolt I’d been receiving while we danced was completely gone, replaced by a signature so weak it felt like the winter sun through three inches of leaded glass. I, on the other hand, had a difficult time ratcheting down my signature. I gritted my teeth and tried to suck my magic back inside me, but it was a trick that still eluded me. I started sweating, desperately wanting to avoid the usual unintentional fireworks display when this sort of thing happened. But seconds later my fear was realized and the air in front of us exploded in a bouquet of bright lights accompanied by popping sounds and the acrid, bitter smell of dampened waning magic. My father frowned, but otherwise chose to ignore my lack of control.
“Aristos,” he said, inclining his head slightly toward Ari. Ari’s fingers on my arm tightened almost imperceptibly.
“Karanos,” Ari said, and I felt his return nod behind me, deeper than my father’s had been.
“I didn’t realize you two knew each other,” Karanos said, pointedly eyeing Ari’s hands on my arms. Ari’s hands slipped from my shoulders, but he didn’t move away. “I suppose your meeting was inevitable,” Karanos continued, “but I can’t imagine that you two have much in common. Nouiomo, you’ve always been rather squeamish about killing things and, Aristos, well… you are not.”
My father’s voice dropped meaningfully at the end. I’d always assumed that Ari had performed his work for my father out of a sense of duty or, at worst, because he needed the money. My father implied otherwise.
Had Ari actually enjoyed being a demon executioner?
“If you’re available over the break,” Karanos said to Ari, “I could use you out at Rockthorn Gorge. There’ve been some… incidences there over the past few weeks.”
Beside me, Ari stilled. I sensed some inner conflict. The barest uptick in his signature. Karanos must have sensed it too. He pressed further. “I’m headed over to the train station later tonight. You could accompany me. Catch the Midland Express. Meet up with Opiter and Septimus?”
It was clear from the way he said their names that my father thought highly of Opiter and Septimus, whoever they were. Executioners, I guessed. Karanos’ eagerness to send Ari north as if he were a hunter’s hound just waiting to be unleashed was off-putting to say the least.
I glanced up at Ari. I was appalled to see that he looked genuinely torn.
“I appreciate the offer,” Ari said slowly, “but I have other plans.” I suddenly remembered Ari had asked me to go to Bradbury with him next week and I hadn’t yet given him an answer.
“What about you, Nouiomo?” my father said. “Are you going back to Etincelle for the break?”
I paused. When I didn’t immediately answer Karanos’ question, a curious tension developed among the three of us. Ari finally broke it by taking my hand in his. “I’ve invited Noon to come home with me next week,” he said.
“Home?” My father said, his eyes narrowing at Ari. There was a peculiar tone in his voice.
“Bradbury, to meet my adoptive family.”
Karanos seemed to digest this information for a moment. I wondered if he wanted to protest, but having had almost nothing to do with my life for twenty-one years, it was a little late for him to start sifting through my suitors now (not that there had ever been that many to begin with). Finally, abruptly, he ended our discussion with a slight, curt bow and no good-bye. I looked at hi
s back as he left, filled with all manner of emotion. Damn, crying would absolutely ruin my eye makeup.
The dance floor was nearly empty and, despite the Summer Queen, the last thing I felt like doing was dancing. Ari led me out to the western balcony. The night air was cool, quiet, and dark. Our appearance caused a few couples to scurry back inside, which made me feel positively plague-ridden. I walked over to the waist-high iron railing framing the edge of the balcony and leaned over the edge. Beneath us Halja went about the business of a busy Saturday night. Ari stood beside me.
“You should go to Rockthorn Gorge,” I said.
Ari looked surprised for a minute, but then scooted closer to me. Our elbows touched as we leaned against the railing and looked out across the twinkling lights of the city below.
“Do you want me to?”
“I know you want to go.”
“Is that what you think? That I’d prefer to spend next week tracking down rogares and hoping I don’t get myself killed rather than hang out with you?”
“Ari, I’m being serious. If you want to go, go,” I said just a little too vehemently. “If someone up there needs help… you should go.”
“Opiter and Septimus can handle it.”
There was a long moment of silence between us. I don’t know what Ari was thinking. His signature felt like it did in the Manipulation dungeon. Expectant. Was he expecting a fight? Finally, I gathered enough courage to ask my next question.
“How many demons have you killed?” It came out as a whisper. I hadn’t meant it to. I’d meant it to come out conversationally. But the answer mattered too much.
Ari blew out his breath and stepped away from the rail. Along with expectancy, I now felt agitation and aggravation in his signature.
“How many is too many for you, Noon? What number has any real meaning? Is a few too many? How about ten? Twenty? A hundred?” His voice rose with each number. He seemed as scared of his answer as I did. “I don’t know,” he said finally.
“You’re lying!”
Ari stepped behind me and turned me around. My outburst had cleared the last of the people off of the patio. Ari leaned toward me, his gaze intense.
“I know what you’re doing, Noon,” he said quietly. “I know why you want to know and I know why you’re afraid. You think you’ll be forced to become someone like me. But you couldn’t be more different. Just because our magic is the same, doesn’t mean we’re the same.”
“Does that mean you love killing, Ari?” I said angrily, my eyes tearing at the corners. “Because I hate it,” I snapped. “I don’t want to have the power to kill things.” My voice sounded defeated. My dreams, at this point, sounded all but impossible. “I don’t want to have magic that hurts or harms…”
“I know,” Ari said, reaching for my hands. “You’d rather be a healer.” He tried to pry me off the railing and into his arms. But I wouldn’t let him. Stubbornly, I clasped my hands behind my back and leaned away from him.
“How many?”
“I’m not going to tell you.”
“Ari,” I said icily, “you told me not to hide things from you. Your favorite thing to do is break down my defenses. You can’t pick and choose which parts of your past you want me to see. Tell me or there’s no way I’m going to Bradbury.”
He laughed, like he couldn’t believe I’d make such a childish threat.
“Oh, you’re going to Bradbury. I deserve a chance to be seen in a light other than the one your father shines on me.”
I started sputtering. “You can’t just tell me what to do. Luck, Ari, you could not be more pushy!” I pushed on his shoulders to demonstrate what I meant. My shoving had no effect. He stood before me, as immovable as a stone wall. “You’re always pushing me,” I said, thrusting my finger into his shoulder with each subsequent point I made. “Pushing me to declare, pushing me to study, to practice, to accept my abhorrent magic and the life you lead.”
“The life you were born to lead,” he said. “With me, if I have anything to say about it.”
My jaw dropped.
“Ari, what are you saying? You think just because we had sex—”
“Sex? Is that all you think is between us?”
“I knew it!” I cried. “I knew you would try to assert some sort of claim on me.”
“I do have a claim on you,” he said matter-of-factly, pointing to my mark.
I tried to step back, but my heel just banged into the railing. I felt like a doe caught between a tree and a wolf. Before I could scoot sideways, Ari placed his hands on either side of the railing, effectively trapping me between him and a thirty-three-story plunge to my death. He bent toward me, his lips nearly touching mine. He smelled spicy, like cloves, and his breath tickled my upper lip. I didn’t want to fight anymore.
I tilted my chin up so that my lips brushed against his, but he pulled back. I’m ashamed to say I leaned forward a bit until I realized what he was doing. I scowled.
“Always an irresistible combination of eager and reluctant,” he said softly. He clasped my chin in his hand and gently shook it. Then he pulled me away from the rail, put his arm around my shoulders, and gave me a light squeeze. The gesture felt so affectionate, so natural and unrestrained. There was absolutely nothing sexual or possessive about it. He led me back inside. Despite myself, I grinned, although somewhat lopsidedly. Both my eagerness and my reluctance were due to the same problem: falling thirty-three stories wasn’t nearly as frightening as falling in love.
Chapter 21
When we walked back inside, the band was taking a break and people were finding seats for dinner. True to the impromptu mood of Beltane, there were no assigned seats. Guests were allowed to choose any seating arrangement that suited. I glanced around, hoping Fitz and Babette had thought to save us seats at their table. But when I spied them at the bar, I wondered if they would be joining anyone for dinner. It looked like they’d traded in the Nonpareils and Golden Russets for Northern Spice and were happily oblivious to the world around them. I spotted Night and Ivy across the room talking with my father and Peter. I hoped Night was confiding my suspicions regarding Vigilia to Karanos. Obviously, since Karanos had walked off after learning that Ari had invited me to go to Bradbury with him over the break, I hadn’t had a chance to say anything to him about my theory.
I figured now was as good a time as any to freshen up so I left Ari at the bar and went to look for the ladies’ lounge. Someone with a jewel- and feather-encrusted peacock mask helpfully pointed out the way. I lifted my skirts slightly to make walking easier and hoped there would be a water closet big enough to accommodate me and my dress. As I rounded the corner into a more deserted area of Empyr, I felt a collective group of signatures I’d rather have avoided.
Tosca’s signature struck me like a high altitude mountain pass blast, full of gale forces and stinging icy pinpricks. Instinctively I blasted back, my hotter and stronger signature completely melting his. He stared aggressively at me. Brunus’ signature always made me want to gag and tonight was no exception. His magic hit me like a vat of fresh squeezed onions. My eyes watered as his lecherous gaze swept across my bared upper chest. He zeroed in on my mark and his lip curled in disgust. Sasha leered at me and lewdly waggled his tongue. From the corroded feel of his magic, I half expected to see half of his teeth missing.
“My, don’t we look pretty tonight,” Brunus sneered, stepping in front of me. “How can a woman bear to bare that thing?” he said contemptuously, reaching toward my demon mark with his finger. It was the one thing he’d never tried to do in the dungeon. Countless times he’d tried to rake me with his magic—or a metal weapon. But he’d never tried to touch me. The attempt unbalanced me, literally, and I stumbled backward… into Sasha, who’d moved behind me. It unnerved me that I’d been so focused on Brunus I hadn’t felt Sasha moving. I twisted, but Brunus stepped on the hem of my dress with his foot to hold me in place. My choices were to stay put, try to wrench myself free with potentially disastrous and
humiliating consequences to my dress and me, or… fight them with magic. Here. In the hallway of Empyr.
My signature flexed involuntarily, like a fist, and the three of them smiled. Their signatures expanded and became exponentially expectant.
Brunus reached toward my mark again, just to see what I would do, and that’s when Night stepped into the hallway.
“What’s going on?” he said sharply, striding over to us. He either didn’t know or didn’t care that this trio of bullies could burn him alive. He shoved Brunus away from me and took my arm. I thought we were going to get out—no harm, no foul, right?—but as we turned, Brunus stomped on my train. I heard the fabric rip just as a flash of metal appeared at Brunus’ throat.
“I heard they teach you Maegesters-in-Training how to use real weapons,” Night said. “Recognize this?”
Whatever it was, it wasn’t one of the ones from the wall in the dungeon. It was a small knife, but from the way Night held it, it looked deadly sharp.
“Apologize, or spend the rest of your life wondering if I’m going to sneak into your room one night to finish what I started here.”
“You’re the one who should be wearing the skirt, Nocturo. I heard you’re practicing medicine down in southern Halja with the rest of the women with waxing magic. Maybe you can use your stitching skills to sew up your sister’s dress.”
Brunus snorted, even with Night’s knife pressed to his neck. He wasn’t going to apologize. Night had to know that. Night finally lowered his hand and pushed Brunus off my dress.
I felt Brunus’ return thrust before he threw it. He shaped his magic like his beloved nadziak and swung it toward Night’s head. But I was faster. I shaped my magic like a rapier and shield. I blocked the nadziak with the shield and thrust the rapier toward Brunus, intending only to cut a lock of his hair—just to show him I was serious and that he shouldn’t mess with us. But my magic control wasn’t quite up to the job I’d assigned it. My magic nicked Brunus’ cheek, instantly burning and cauterizing it. The putrefying smell made me sick—but worse, way worse—was the instinctive feeling that rose up in me. I suddenly wanted to kill Brunus.