Page 19 of Her Tortured Beasts

There’s no doubt in my mind that Xander Drakos will be considered a good match and?—

It’s at this point in my musing that said Xander Drakos strides out of the bathroom, buttoning the cuffs of his black jacket sleeves.

That crucial tear in my soul bleeds anew.

He’s devastating. And in more ways than one.

Xander is wearing a three-piece tuxedo, the jacket and pants a midnight black, his vest the same colour. His hair is loose and silken down his back, perhaps to conceal the new small wireless earpieces. He’s forgone his usual black dagger earring for a small black stud and removed his black nose ring. At the centre of his chest, he wears his family’s golden crest, and the look is complete with gold waist and collar chains.

“You’ll walk behind me at all times,” Xander says flatly, keeping his eyes straight ahead as he snaps his wrist, that gold chain snaking upwards and clicking into my collar like a magnet. “No less than five paces.”

“I’m supposed to be counting that?” I ask faintly.

“You never were all that bright.”

“Apparently,” I say darkly.

Xander glances over his shoulder, probably finding it strange that I’ve agreed with him. The truth of it is that my stomach is still roiling after the ultrasound with the scientists. Everything else, I could handle. The continued plucking of my feathers, the ordeal of Ghoulmilkingme, but that one thing has thrown me entirely. I rub my arms, despite the warm spring night, not caring who sees me acting like prey.

Xander begins walking before I can actually vomit on this nice carpet, and I’m forced to steady myself. Maids and butlers hurry about, all headed to either the back garden, where the event will be held, or what I’m assuming is the kitchen or wine cellar. Faint music floats up from outside. A very real string quartet, if I’m not mistaken.

Xander leads me down the stairs where we find his parents, both richly dressed in a long black velvet gown and a black and gold three-piece tuxedo, respectively.

Flores turns around to eye us, first looking me up and down, then his son. “It is time,” he says, the gold thread embroidery on his cuffs glinting under the warm lights of the candelabra high above us. “Wait here a moment. I will introduce you.” Flores turns to Xander’s mother, who had been gazing at Xander with fixed, glassy eyes and a faint smile. “Come, Esteè.” He tugs on her hand, placing it in the crook of his left elbow, before turning them both around.

Feeling Lady Drakos’ presence, my avian power stirs once again.

“Don’t get any ideas tonight.” Xander’s voice pulls me back to the present. There’s a faint clapping outside. The boom of King Flores’ voice and Xander’s glowing eyes are fixed on the open doors. “Don’t speak unless spoken to. Even then, don’t prattle on unnecessarily. Don’t trip or fall. Don’t stare.”

“Anything else?” I ask with exaggerated politeness.

“Don’t cry. Don’t get angry. Don’t use your powers or try anything stupid. Lord Agnis is outside with the nimpins.”

The fucking nerve.

“Is it true, what Ghoul said?” I ask, trying to distract myself. “About him being a…eunuch? Or was that just a catch-phrase?”

Xander’s cheek perks up with the hint of a smirk. “It’s true.”

My stomach jumps. “Why? Who?”

“It was Lyle, funnily enough. For Celeste’s sake.”

Shock winds through me. My Lyle? Castrating phoenixes? Since he let his beast out of his shackles, I can believe him doing just about anything murderous or torturous, but this is something I hadn’t expected. The only reason I can imagine him doing such a drastic thing would be because…

Nausea rolls up my throat once again and my hand flies to my sternum. I must make a sound because Xander half turns in irritation before King Flores loudly announces his son’s name.

The butler at the door bows and extends his arm. Xander walks forward.

So careful is his stalk, so very practised is the set of his shoulders, the swing of his arms. Xander has been waiting for this moment for many years, and despite the bond-breaking, despite the betrayal of it, something inside of me doesn’t want to ruin this for him. It’s complete insanity, but as we step onto the deck outside, my anima keens a mournful, broken hymn.

I have to hand it to them, the Drakos’ sure know how to throw a party. The back garden is stunningly dressed with sweeping bands of twinkling lights on either side of a long runway that looks like it was put here just for this event.

How long, exactly, had Xander been plotting for his return?

A round of polite applause greets us, along with the collection of scattered beasts. Although they’re all dressed in glistening and expensive black tie, you can’t mistake these creatures for anything other than dragons. Massive jewels set in yellow andwhite gold sit around necks, wrists and fingers, some even embedded into clothes, hair and shoes. Nothing gaudy, of course, only extremely wealthy people showing off their finest to their rivals. But it’s the sheer power in the air. A magnificent yet brutalburnthat singes the nostrils. My heart rate kicks up on instinct and my anima raises her own mighty head, surveying the potential enemies.

Suddenly, I’m confused as to whyI’mhere. Surely Xander and King Flores would have preferred he make his debut solo? Why string me along like a prize calf to ruin the dramatic effect of the returned heir?

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