Page 51 of Sanctifier

“I’d rather set myself on fire,” Ru said in a loving tone, smiling up at him.

He reached out a hand and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. A collective gasp, then a flurry of eager whispers, broke out from amongst the partygoers. Most of them were watching Ru and Taryel, even as they danced and laughed together, theirattention never left their dark god and the woman who held his heart.

“The court loves romance,” Taryel said. “It’s part of the reason they love me… well, Festra, so much. He’s been sold to them as some vengeful creature who murdered thousands in defense of his lover’s honor.”

“How… utterly unromantic,” said Ru, staving off a grimace.

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t burn down a kingdom for me?” Taryel asked, eyes dancing. He was teasing her.

“Not even a village,” Ru said, allowing him to pull her closer until she felt the beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest. She pressed a palm to his waistcoat, as much to steady herself as to keep him at bay. “Not even a hamlet.”

“What about… one person?” he leaned down, lips parted.

“I wouldn’t burn anyone for you,” she breathed, leaning back just slightly. “Don’t kiss me.”

Taryel’s mouth hovered inches from hers, his eyes heavy-lidded. “They’ll love it.”

“Kiss my cheek,” she said, relenting. “That’s all.”

When he kissed her, a soft brush of lips against her cheek, the room erupted in titters and scattered applause. There was a muffled thump as someone swooned, landing heavily on a settee.

Ru’s heart slammed in her chest; blood rushed through her veins like a furious river. She wanted him so badly it hurt. The artifact urged her, devious thing, as if it were just as untethered as she was, threatening to fall together into unchecked desire.

But she knew what was happening, understood the force of the artifact’s will. And now that she knew it was pushing her, she could separate herself from it, just enough to resist Taryel. Though it wasn’t easy.

“Now that’s over with,” Ru said, “I could use a drink.”

Taryel fetched them each a glass of wine from the fountain, which took far longer than it should have as he was forced to stop and interact with several courtiers on his way back to Ru. When he finally returned with their drinks, Ru’s heartbeat had thankfully returned to normal, her lust under control. Though she could see in Taryel’s eyes that he had wanted to kiss her. That he still did.

“Does Lady Bellenet ever come to these things?” Ru asked, eager to discuss more useful things, to forget Taryel’s lips against her skin.

“Rarely,” he said, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “She throws her own parties. I’ve surmised that she prefers to be in control of almost everything she does. And she’s followed by a retinue of Children everywhere she goes. I’ve never been alone with her.”

“Pity,” said Ru. “If she truly believes you’re Festra incarnate, she might actually reveal something about her power.”

“It’s not for lack of trying,” Taryel said. “Whatever her powers are, if she has any, she keeps close to the chest.”

Ru frowned, sipping her wine. She had hoped she might uncover something interesting at Count Leon’s party, but so far, it had been one discomfort after another. Even the count himself had only spouted the same rhetoric Lady Bellenet spoke in the throne room.

“Are you all right?” Taryel asked, noting Ru’s frown.

She forced a smile. “I’m having a wonderful time. The best night of my life. You?”

“Ru, I’m…” he reached out, fingers brushing the fabric of her sleeve.

But he never finished his sentence. Just then, Lord D’Luc appeared at Ru’s side as if summoned by her discomfort. “Delara,” he said, “it’s time to go. One always leaves a party at its height, not its decline.”

“Of course,” Ru said, placing her hand on the lord’s arm. She glanced back at Taryel long enough to hand him her empty wine glass. She felt his gaze on her as she made her way through the room with Lord D’Luc, boring into her until they were outside in the corridor.

Ru took a calming breath, savoring the cool, quiet air of the hallway.

“Well done,” said Lord D’Luc, turning to regard her with hesitant approval. “You gave the rabble exactly what they wanted. It seems you were born for it, Delara.”

“For what?” she asked, a cold dread hanging in her chest, ready to fall and engulf her.

“Your destiny,” he said, smiling coldly. “To be Taryel’s sweet little thing. You do seem utterly at home in the arms of a killer, don’t you? Two Destroyers for the price of one. I can’t wait to see your face when you do it. The whole of Mirith will be lined up to watch you.”

Ru didn’t ask what he meant by that. The wine she’d drunk tasted sour on her tongue, and her stomach roiled. Everything she had just endured, from Count Leon’s prancing to Taryel’s farcical kiss… it would all mean nothing if she couldn’t stop Lady Bellenet. She would have put herself through hell for nothing, a hollow play for a theater of corpses.

---