Page 73 of Flirting with Darkness

I cannot muster the anger Sorian, Kybriel, and Lark’s inappropriate drunken nonsense might have caused any other day. They’re right to celebrate. One hundred years, we’ve held the courts together. The little folk are safer, pay less taxes, roads have been built, and the number of politicians assassinated under my rule is embarrassingly low. No major war ever broke out after I instigated a costly fine for the party drawing first blood.

More importantly, my neck is still attached to my shoulders. If I hadn’t taken power when I did, it wouldn’t be.

There are causes for merriments, but in the light of the upcoming trials, I cannot find any peace.

If I lose, all of the reasons why I took the regency of the realm in the first place will crawl right back out of the shadows where I banished them, and I will become prey to a predator none escape.

4

DARINA

Idance, I drink, I try to lose myself as I usually do, and I fail.

That faint echo of the strange music stays with me, in my heart, fucking with my head.

I get back to work the next week, but I do not hear the sound of my own flute as my fingers dance over the hard metal mechanically, following well-learned movements. My lectures—usually a favorite among my students, because I keep them interactive and fun—are objectively shit. I’m distracted and frustrated.

I find myself humming those maddening notes again and again.

I’m not an early riser by nature, so I usually party on Friday, Saturday, or both, to ensure I get a chance to sleep in after a night out. This week, I change into a tight sparkly dress Wednesday after dinner.

I still hear the tune clearly, and I have toknowwhy. How. I have to understand. It’s like an itch I need to scratch.

I have to get back to Night Hall.

It’s my first time turning up on a weekday. The bouncer spots me and waves me forward, so I bypass the queue and head inside.

At first glance, I notice the crowd is different from those I see on the weekends. Actually, that’s not accurate. I know everyone here, by sight at least. I’ve even danced with most of them. But today, the harmless, friendly, simple crowd’s absent, leaving only the worst, the darkest, those I suspect could be part of gangs or organized crime.

I should get out of here.

“Darina!” I greet Cissa with an awkward smile as she comes to kiss both of my cheeks, pink curls bouncing with each step. “You don’t usually come this early in the week.”

She hooks her arm through mine and leads me to the bar.

So much for my escape.

“Long week.” Each day was interminable, and I stayed away as long as I could. “The club isn’t as packed as usual.”

As always, there is a line of people waiting outside, so the smaller crowd is purposeful.

Cissa nods. “We have a members-only policy on Mondays and Wednesdays.”

Then why was I let inside? And why are people waiting outside at all? I don’t quite understand the rules of this place. I just know I’m welcome here, and I enjoy every minute I spend within these walls.

She must have read my mind, because she grins and whispers, “As you can see, most of the members are male, so hot single ladies are often welcome.”

At the bar, she waves, and one of the three employees working abandons his station to scurry to us.

On the short side and rather stocky, he has kind eyes and plain features: leathery skin, small, squinted eyes, and a nose broken at least twice. I don’t think I’ve seen him before, so he must be the new bartender Eochan mentioned. “Mavek, meet Darina, one of our regulars. She drinks on the house.”

Mavek inclines his head three times, enthusiastically. “Well met, Lady Darina. What may I serve you?”

I laugh easily at his pompous, archaic, and overly polite tone, as well as his pleasant lilt. I can’t place the accent, though it’s distinctive.

“Well met,” I echo the awkward expression with amusement. “I’ll have a Bone Martini.”

I once joked I hoped there weren’t any bones in it, and Eochan deadpanned, “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course there are.”

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