Page 8 of A Chill in the Flame
The guards called Ophir a wildfire—every bit as destructive as she was powerful. Her elder sister was as vulnerable as she was important to the future of the continent of Gyrradin. If Ophir was the flame, Caris was the flower.
She thought of the exasperated expression Harland would offer coupled with the furious reprimand that would undoubtedly follow from August and decided if they were going to get in trouble anyway, she might as well make the most of their night.
All Ophir had to do was to say that she was going with or without her, and Caris felt the protective impulse to accompany her little sister.
Ophir fancied herself a strong, capable woman. She feared nothing and answered to no one. She could save herself and her sister through sheer cockiness and confident smiles if she put her mind to it. At least, that was what she’d believed.
But they were not wolves.
They were lambs amidst lions at the lord’s estate.
Four
Raucous music cannibalized all other senses. Caris madeanother attempt to bolt before they crossed the threshold, but temptation overpowered Ophir’s caution as she dragged her sister into Lord Berinth’s estate. Ophir had never met a party she didn’t like, but if his reputation was to be believed, Lord Berinth might put other wild nights to shame. She’d heard whispers of the hedonistic Lord of Indecency for nearly a decade, but the stars had never aligned for her to attend. According to the sort of gossip and rumors that snaked through the city, there was a reason he required the concealment of one’s identities. Even the madams at brothels would clutch their pearls if they heard what went on behind his walls. Ophir felt quite certain that she’d die of curiosity if she didn’t find out what went on in his estate.
“Oh no. Absolutely not. No, no, no.” Caris tried again to turn on her feet.
Excitement crackled through Ophir’s body. “Oh hellyes.”
This party was the single most shocking, bawdy, scandalous if not outright blasphemous thing she’d ever seen. She couldn’t decide if she hated it or loved it.
The high-vaulted rooms were packed from wall to wall with food, wine, music, glittering jewels, tawdry laughter, and,above all, the melding bodies of men and women performing the most carnal acts on one another on three stages. One man laced his fingers through the hair of a male submissive on his knees as the man bobbed up and down on the swollen cock. Across the room, two women writhed against one another with their legs interlocked. A human woman—one of only a few mortals in attendance—stood atop the center stage while three fae men serviced her.
Caris’s voice trembled as she said, “This is insanity.”
“This is glorious,” Ophir countered. “They’re putting on a show, Caris. If you want to go, you can. But I’m staying.”
Dark music joined the laughter and devilry to drown out Caris’s remaining protests. The air was thick with roses and sex. Ruby velvets, opulent paintings, and obsidian leathers decorated the estate from wall to wall. Ophir’s gaze followed a stately black pillar from its anchor in the marble floor to where it disappeared against the black, palatial ceilings.
A woman jostled them as she forced her way past the princesses toward a group of waiting friends. The moment she arrived, a companion handed her a drink and began undoing her corset.
“She’s not going to—” Caris wasn’t able to finish her sentence before the woman dropped her corset to her feet. The companion pulled on a silken belt before her dress fell open like a robe, baring her before the world.
Ophir was too enraptured to worry about her sister’s modesty.
This was the reason Berinth had earned such a reputation: half of the partygoers in attendance were in various states of undress. Lovely women serving drinks wore only their masks and elaborate shoes, completely naked to the elements for all the world to see, the pinks, purples, and browns of their painted lips carefully matched to the shades of the most sensitive parts of their peaked breasts. A well-muscled man walked by with a tray of drinks, wearing nothing but his mask.
“Firi, let’sgo.” It was clear from Caris’s tone that shewould never, ever forgive her younger sister for involving her in anything so scandalizing. It was improper. It was absurd. It was a new level of abhorrence. From her voice alone, Caris sounded like she might molt her precious, gentle wrappings to whip the younger princess out of sheer horror and disgust.
Caris’s unwillingness to let go and have fun only made the challenge more exciting.
Ophir’s blood sparkled with a cocktail of nerves and wickedness as she eyed the spectacle, afraid and excited in equal portion. Perhaps this would be something she hated. If so, she’d apologize profusely to her sister and spend all of the necessary weeks in restitution begging for forgiveness. On the other hand, they might have the time of their lives and unlock new levels of pleasure and desire if they allowed themselves to be open.
“Wait.” Ophir’s eyes widened. “Is this your first time seeing a naked man? You are such a virgin.”
Guilt pecked at her as the words left her mouth. As shocking and fun as it was to witness events meant to jolt and incite, it was admittedly more than what Caris had consented to seeing.
She frowned at the pieces of Caris she could see from behind her sister’s opalescent mask. From the fresh, round pink of her cheeks, the crystalline blue of her eyes, and the golden curl of her hair, she’d always managed to glide through life as the honorable, innocent virgin. The duty-bound firstborn had been promised to King Ceneth of Raascot—a man she was supposed to have met only once prior to the wedding but who had captured her heart so completely upon their first introduction that the pair concocted a bottomless array of excuses to see each other as often as they could—and had every intention of saving her maidenhood for their union. Much to Ophir’s dismay, this promise wasn’t just one of law that she could circumvent or pressure her sister into forgoing but one of love and hope. The firstborn princess glowed every time she spoke ofCeneth and her marriage.
Though she empathized with Caris’s position and understood why her sister was acting so miserable, she hoped Caris would be selfless enough to let her have a memorable experience.
“I’ve seen a naked male body,” Caris mumbled.
“I don’t believe you,” Ophir replied definitively. “You would have told me. Unless…you aren’t counting when we were children playing in the fountain with the heirs of the Duke and Duchess of Yelagin? We were toddlers!”
Caris folded her arms over her chest defensively.
“Fine, I’m sorry,” Ophir admitted, and she was. At least, a little. “Maybe this isn’t the best exposure to sexuality outside the marital bed. I didn’t mean to traumatize you. But it’s a little late, right? The trauma has come and gone. You can’t unsee the beautiful people fucking. We might as well make the most of it.”
