The problem was that she didn’t know how much longer she could keep this up.
She felt as if she was on edge all the time, playing a part, and it was exhausting.
When could she relax? When would the goddess have forgotten all about her?
At night, she sometimes tried to think about how to get out of the palace. There were no windows in the place, so it wasn’t as if she could climb out of her bedroom and scamper off unobserved. No, she’d have to go through the doors, of which there were two, one set in the front and one set in the back. There were guards on both.
She’d have to get past them somehow.
Maybe a distraction. Maybe she could entice those horrible creatures that lived outside the palace to attack them. But how would she do that?
Maybe she could bribe them? What would they want? She didn’t have anything to give them.
Every morning, she woke up and went back to the throne room and put on her mask and pretended. She wished Nicce had never arrived and never given her hope at all. It would be easier if she hadn’t had that little bit of hope.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” came a voice, shattering her thoughts.
Xenia looked up and realized that the others she’d been with at this table had all left, and she was alone with an empty bottle of wine. There was a woman standing next to the table, one of the brides, and Xenia thought she looked somewhat familiar. She had long dark hair and an expressive mouth. Her bottom lip was round and fat, like a dusky petal of a rose. Her brown eyes were huge and luminous. She was pretty, but not in an entirely soft way.
“I’m Revel,” said the woman.
“Xenia.” She tried a smile, and it wasn’t one of the fake smiles she’d been giving out, but something a little bit too genuine. Aitho take her, but pretty girls were her weakness. “I’d offer you some wine, but this seems empty.”
“That’s all right,” said Revel. “Too much wine only muddles my head. I like to stay sharp.”
“I usually do too,” said Xenia. “But there is something appealing about this place being muddled.” Oh, she shouldn’t have said that. She looked around, afraid the goddess was somewhere, listening. Xenia had dreams about opening her bedroom door and seeing the goddess dragging an ax down the hallway, giggling wildly, coming for her.
“You’re like a frightened deer,” said Revel, sitting down next to her. “Don’t worry, you usually see the mist before you see her. It’s helpful in that way. And I’ve been here for over a decade, and I can tell you that she’s not as much of a worry as the restless men she’s turned. They’re always prowling about, trying to take advantage. I understand you already had Absalom’s welcome.”
“Absalom didn’t bother me,” she said. She’d attempted to seduce Absalom to get him to help her, but it had become obvious that he wasn’t going to be moved in that way, so she’d given up. He hadn’t seemed too offended by that, only relieved. But she’d heard stories about Absalom, about the way he charmed his way in and out of whatever bed he fancied. “And there was no welcoming between us, either. I simply wasn’t interested.”
Revel smiled. “Neither was I.”
Xenia smiled too.
“Forgive me,” said Revel. “I don’t mean to be forward, but I sometimes think it’s easier simply to clear the air straight away. Otherwise, I run the risk of being painfully disappointed.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping in pitch. “I’m not much interested in men in general, if you know what I mean?”
Xenia’s tongue darted out to lick her lips.
“What about you?” said Revel. “Is the impression I’ve formed of you as a kindred spirit in that direction accurate?”
“How did you know?” said Xenia.
Revel laughed. “I didn’t. I mean, I wasn’t sure. But I haven’t been able to keep from… noticing you since you arrived at court. And after you weren’t keeping company with Absalom…” She held up both hands. “Don’t get me wrong. If you’re not interested, I’ll back off. I’m not like those prowling men. I can take a hint.”
Xenia bit down on her bottom lip. Tell her you’re not interested. You’re trying to escape this place and get back to your daughter. She’s a complication you don’t need. “No reason to back off.”
“No?”
“No.” Xenia couldn’t stop smiling and inwardly she was cursing herself.
Revel smiled too. “Well, that’s the best news I’ve had in weeks.”
* * *
Nicce had wanted to ask Absalom about Eithan’s face, but she and Absalom were never alone, and she never got the chance.
Absalom whisked her around the throne room, dancing with her, sitting them in the middle of large groups of people and draping his arm around her casually, feeding her the dark orbs of fruit that grew around the palace and rubbing the juice all over her bottom lip.
He was all joking and outrageous compliments and she could do nothing but respond in kind.
Days passed.
She was getting food now. It was stored in the kitchen and she had to prepare it for herself, but she didn’t mind that. She had to do everything for herself here, actually. There weren’t servants around to help dress her or to keep things clean. Nicce liked it. Servants made her uncomfortable. Besides, they were extra ears and they didn’t need people listening in.
Several times, she saw Eithan. The furrows on his face were raw and angry the first time, then scabbed over the next, but every time she looked at him, she didn’t look away quickly enough, and every time she looked at him, he was already looking at her, and his gaze scalded.
One evening, Absalom walked her back to her room, which he did sometimes but usually in the company of others, and he usually left her at the door with an affectionate caress on the cheek before he went on with the rest of them.
This time, there were only two others with them, a man and a woman who were paying more attention to each other than to Absalom and her, and they didn’t seem to even notice that Absalom slipped into her room with her.
Absalom shut the door and stayed near it, listening as the voices of the other couple faded away. Then he turned to her. “Listen for the great clock to chime eight, and then come to my room.”
She furrowed her brow. “All right. Is something happening tonight?”
“I convinced Eithan he should attempt drinking your blood.”
The furrow in her brow deepened.
“To make your blood change to sunlight? You said that was something you hadn’t tried?”
“Oh. Yes.” She had said that. “But we bled me out, and it didn’t work, and it took me quite some time to recover, and won’t that be suspicious here? If I’m unable to get out of bed and I’m clearly weak?”
Absalom shrugged. “Don’t think like that. Be positive. Maybe it’ll work and then you’ll heal.”
She nodded. Right.
“Please don’t tell me you’re not going to back out on me. Eithan wasn’t easy to convince, but I thought that you would be willing to try anything. You want out of this place, don’t you? You want Ciaska dead?”
She squared her shoulders. “Of course I do. Yes, let’s do it, of course. I’ll be there.”
“Good.” Absalom nodded. “I won’t. Eithan will be in the room waiting for you, but I’ll have made myself scarce and everyone will assume that you’re coming to visit me.”
“Oh, he and I will be alone?”
“I have no desire to watch that,” said Absalom.
She nodded again, thinking about last time, about being in Eithan’s arms. She might have blushed.
“Because it will be bloody and awful,” said Absalom.
“Exactly,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” said Absalom. “I wouldn’t ask it of you at all, but you volunteered for this, and you wanted to come to court—”
“Yes, I know.”
Absalom sighed. “Well, I should stay in here with you for a bit, because it will look odd if I leave so quickly. We don’t want people to
think that we’re arguing.”
Of course. It was only that she was nervous now, and she would have rather been alone. She crossed the room to the basin, which she had learned was called a sink, and she ran a little water, which she splashed on her face. She regarded herself in the mirror.
“Do you want me to be there tonight?” said Absalom.
She turned to him. “No, it’s probably better if we’re alone.”
“Eithan seems to think he’s going to kill you,” said Absalom. “So, if you don’t feel safe—”
“He would never do that,” said Nicce.
“That was my feeling,” said Absalom. “It’s only that you seem worried, too, so I wanted to make sure of it.”
“No, that’s not… I’m not worried about dying.”
“Just about being weakened,” he said.
“Yes,” she said. Of course, she was lying. Being weakened was a worry, but that wasn’t what troubled her. She was troubled by the fact that some part of her was excited at the prospect, that she was looking forward to it. That disturbed her.
She tried to remind herself that even though she’d found Eithan’s desire for her arousing, the actual blood-drinking part hadn’t been that way, just sleepy and dark and tranquil.
Anyway, she shouldn’t be thinking about that at all.
She should be thinking about the moment that her blood had changed over. She remembered that she’d been fading out, floating in the darkness, slipping away, and then… something had happened. Her heart had started to beat, and heat and light had surged through her. She’d seen the light coming from her wound, and it had been so very, very bright.
With Diakos, it had been similar. She’d been right there on the edge, ready to slip away, and then—the light.
But then, when they had bled her out in the king’s cabin, it hadn’t happened. She hadn’t felt that moment of change at all. Instead, she had simply slipped away. She didn’t quite remember the moment of losing consciousness. She had fallen away, and it had happened while she wasn’t expecting it.
Maybe…
Maybe it hadn’t worked because she hadn’t believed she was going to die? Maybe she’d known that it was an experiment, and she’d been too trusting, and that was why her blood hadn’t changed.
But if so, this experiment would fail tonight too, because she could never believe that Eithan would kill her. He wouldn’t.
Against all common sense, she trusted Eithan.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
At the appointed time, Nicce left her room and made her way through the halls. Her pulse was thrumming at her wrists and her neck and she felt flushed and nervous. Part of her wanted to run down the halls to get there more quickly. Part of her wanted to turn around and run away, fight her way through the guards and go back through the portal. Keep running, never look back, and close the door on this mad idea for once and for all.
But she went to him.
Of course she did.
She moved over the polished wood floors, glancing up at the artwork on the walls, which mostly seemed to depict battles. Sometimes men against men and sometimes men against the nightmares. All of them showed pictures of bloody body parts strewn across the ground and men with their swords or spears held high in the air in defiance.
She went around corners and up a set of stairs and she arrived at Absalom’s room.
She knocked on the door, and there was no answer.
She realized it wouldn’t be smart for Eithan to call out. What if someone recognized his voice was different from Absalom’s?
She tried the door knob.
The door opened.
She stepped inside.
Eithan was in the corner, his face and body shadowed.
She shut the door behind her and took two steps forward. Then she stopped.
He sucked in an audible breath. It seemed to echo in the room.
For long moments, neither of them moved.
“Say the word, and we won’t do this.” His voice was low and mild.
Her mouth was dry. Her words came out rough. “I think we have to.”
He lurched forward, coming into the light from the floating orbs overhead and the flickering light from the fireplace that burned across from the bed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I know,” she said. She took several more steps toward him.
He looked her over, and she could see the hunger that was hidden in his glowing eyes, the way he wanted her. It made her pulse move even more quickly. It made it hard to draw in breath. He took another lurching step.
She closed the distance between them, reaching out to take one of his hands in hers.
He shut his eyes at her touch.
She was struck again by how cold his fingers were.
He opened his eyes, but not all the way. They were half-lidded and his voice was thick. “How do we…? Should we sit down?”
She nodded, looking around.
The only place to sit was the bed. She led him there. She sat down first.
He settled down next to her. They were still holding hands, and he pulled her hand closer. He rubbed his thumb over her wrist.
It sent shivers through her body.
“I suppose there’s no reason to delay.” His voice was quiet.
“No, I suppose not.” Hers was quiet too.
He pulled her wrist to his mouth.
She shut her eyes. She felt his cold breath against her skin, and then his cold lips, a kiss. She tensed, waiting for the sharpness of his teeth. But then it didn’t come, and she opened her eyes.
His eyes were closed, his mouth almost touching her skin.
She shut her eyes again.
And then it happened.
He bit her.
She made a little noise in the back of her throat, and he made an answering one. Hers was pain. His was pleasure. She felt tense. She didn’t think it had hurt as much before, and she was thinking of all the blood draining out of her in that room in the hunting cabin, and she was worried. She could feel his mouth latched onto her wrist, a rhythmic tug as he drew blood from her, and there was none of that sleepy feeling from before, none of the relaxation that had tugged her under.
He pulled away, disengaging, swallowing his needle-like fangs. He looked at her, panting, rubbing at the corner of his lips. “I don’t know if we should.”
She cradled her wrist against her chest. It stung. She ran her fingers over the place where he’d bitten her, but there was nothing there except tiny beads of red from the holes his fangs had made.
“We’ll tell Absalom it didn’t work,” said Eithan. “We know it won’t, anyway. If bleeding you out didn’t work, why should this be different?”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “I don’t know. I got the impression he went to a lot of trouble to get us together like this. And we need to try something, don’t we?”
“It’s only…”
“Did it taste different? My blood?”
“No,” he said. “It’s…” He looked down at her wrist and she could see his naked want for it.
Something clenched in her core. She let out a little gasp.
“I might not stop,” he whispered, still staring at her wrist.
“You will,” she said.
His gaze found hers. “Nicce, please.”
Please, what? Please let him drink again? Or please don’t let him have any more?
Her body was tightening up, as if that clenching had started some process in which everything constricted, and it was a strangely bothersome pleasant feeling. She reached for him. She traced the outline of his lips with her forefinger.
He groaned, shutting his eyes.
She reached up and brushed her hair away from her neck, baring her skin, and she urged his face there.
He made a helpless noise of disbelief.
She ran her hand over his shoulder. It was massive and firm and she liked the feel of him.
He brushed her hair more firmly away from her neck and then h
is fingers trailed their way down her spine, leaving sensations in their wake.
She tilted her head further to one side, giving him access.
He brushed his lips against her neck, and then there was something wet and thrilling. His tongue? It went slickly over her.
She gasped.
And if there was pain when his teeth went into her, she didn’t feel it. She felt he was connected there, that the rhythmic tug was happening again, but she couldn’t feel the pain, because she was distracted by the way his fingers were moving up and down her spine. She let out another breathy noise, and she began to trace patterns on his shoulder, then his upper arm, then his back.
His hand traveled up her spine one last time and then tangled into her hair and cupped the back of her skull. His other hand went onto her thigh, gliding up over her hip, and then to her waist.
She sighed.
And then he was easing her backwards on the bed, gently lying her down and his body was pressing into hers.
His mouth worked at her neck, but it seemed gentler than before, and it didn’t hurt, not exactly. It felt like pressure, and it was insistent and intense but not painful.
She burrowed into the bed, arching her back, stretching her neck.
He settled into her, his body finding its way to fit against hers.
Her legs parted seemingly of their own volition, and she wrapped her thighs around his hips. Her pelvis seemed to cradle him, and he moved against her, almost a thrust. That was when she felt his arousal hard, cold, and emphatic and, suddenly, all her attention flooded to that area of their bodies, and she felt warmth gather there, everything in her tightening as if a knot was forming in her. It pulsed and constricted, growing even tighter.
He groaned.
She panted.
His hand traveled up her rib cage, brushing over the wall of her breast.
She moaned.
He drove himself into her harder and she pressed her thighs tight against him, trapping him, surrounding him, urging him against her.
And the door opened, and she could hear Absalom’s voice. “They tell me she’s looking for me. Ciaska. She’s headed to this room, so—”
The Dead and the Dusk (The Nightmare Court Book 2) Page 11