Page 77 of Taking Jenny
Whatever it was, the heat coiled in my stomach like a spark looking for kindling. My pulse pounded in my ears, and for one second, I forgot the palace, the hunt, the stakes. All I could think about was the two men watching me like I was something sacred and sinful all at once.
“Shall we?” Mal finally drawled, breaking the tension as he moved toward the door with the others.
The trip in his onworlder was unmercifully short. When I asked about the outfits and their obvious coordination, especially mine and Tiger’s, Mal took the credit.
“My idea. I want the court to know and see that you and Tiger are a matched set. Win, and he rises with you, which will make him safe from harm, too. The rest of us are wearing purple to piss off Justice.”
I blinked. “Why?”
A wicked light shone in his eyes. “Because it is the royal color, and only the court is permitted to wear it.”
I understood why Mal would wear the color considering his position, but I looked down at my dress and felt dread coil tight in my belly. “Then why am I—why are we—” I couldn’t even finish the sentence, I was suddenly so distraught.
“What will he do? Cancel Illiapol over the color of your dress, or the color of everyone else’s attire?” he asked facetiously. “That would piss off the entire population, especially after the five-day delay. He won’t risk a riot over your dress. He will grin and bear it.”
Lovely.I was the main character in a play I hadn’t auditioned for, wearing a costume that might get me killed.
“If you live to antagonize him, why does he tolerate you?”
“He respects backbone, even when he wants to snap it,” he said in a cynical tone before glancing at me. “One more thing to keep in mind. The hunters will all wear a gold sash over their clothes, so everyone knows howspecialthey are.”
“Nice of them to let me know who to hate on sight.”
Mal valeted his onworlder, which was surreal for me, though I wasn’t sure what else I expected at a fancy alien party. We walked into the palace through a golden arch. Black marble floors were every place I had gone in the palace, with the exception of the prison. Gemstone chandeliers and tapestries were peppered tastefully throughout. The walls varied, though most were charcoal. It was like being in a sophisticated cavern, and I could understand where Mal got his tastes for the dramatic.
Finally, we found ourselves in the ballroom. Much like the rest of the palace in decor, but more gilded and more alive with music and dancers. As soon as we showed up, though, the music stopped and people pointed, stared, and whispered to one another.
The filthy troll, Justice Bateen, stood up from his throne and gestured to the entire ballroom to gather their attention to him and us. “Look everyone, it is our avatar,” he announced, gesturing toward me. “And her warden, Malice Ripper.”
He began a round of applause that ended the moment he zipped a flat hand into the air, his gaze on me. “Avatar?”
I swallowed down my nerves. “Yes?”
Justice stepped forward in all his royal gold and purple finery, his voice dripping both sugar and venom. “Tell us, what preparations do you prefer?”
I frowned in confusion and glanced at Mal, whose expression had become grim. “I’m not sure,” I said slowly. “But I’ve been thinking about how to handle the trial—"
Justice laughed as he walked up to me. “No, no, no, dear. How would you likeyour meatprepared?” he elaborated, stopping much too close to me.
I was so shocked by what he meant, I couldn’t respond.
His gaze raked down the length of me and back up before he filled the silence. “I have always preferred…I think your people call it carpaccio. There is a muscle that runs from the low back,” he said, gently pressing a hand against my stomach before leisurely sliding it downward over my hip and onto my thigh. “And it attaches to the front of the femur right about here, called the psoas major, and it makes the most wonderful carpaccio. Tender, flavorful. It is always what I have at the feast, though you are so small that I’m not sure there will be much to eat.”
An uneasy chuckle went through the ballroom, and he took his hand away. “But I am always open to suggestions from our avatar. So, any thoughts?”
I jutted my chin out rebelliously. “If I must be eaten, then I would prefer it to happen well after my hundredth birthday, but be warned, I plan to be tough and chewy.”
His dark eyes scowled, but then he laughed boisterously. The ballroom joined him.
“This avatar will be a worthy hunt indeed. Music! Dancing!Now!” The music resumed as did the dancers. Justice leaned close to my ear. “I will take only so much cheek from you, Avatar. Until I take your cheeksfromyou.”
A shiver shot through me at his words but I held my ground. He smirked arrogantly, then drifted away and vanished into the crowd like the snake he was.
Mal stepped in beside me, his presence grounding, his voice soft but steady. “Let’s dance.”
“As good a distraction from imminent doom as any.” I slid my hand into his, and he led me to the dance floor.
We assumed the posture I’d been taught for the dance, and he put his hand on my waist. The music was slow, steady, and hypnotic, and Mal moved as though the rhythm lived inside his veins. His grace wasn’t just practiced. It was effortless. Seductive.
