Page 7 of All the Pain of Promises
“The inside the wrist kiss.” Nyxian clapped Tovian soundly on the back. “Works every time.”
Interesting.
Solarius would file that bit of information away for later. Perhaps he would attempt such a move on Narissa.
At once, heightened awareness fired through him, and his gaze latched onto her again. This time he caught her sitting on one of the shell-encrusted ledges lining the small streams coursing through the ballroom, and she appeared dangerously close to falling in.
A piece of him had broken when he overheard her tell Sarelle she was unhappy. It wasn’t as though he expected anything less, neither of themwantedthis marriage, but if they had any hope of survival, they would have to find a means to tolerate one another. And that included being cordial and somewhat content.
He had tried to extend her some grace.
Her feelings, thoughts, and emotions absolutely mattered. Just because they’d been forced into an arranged marriage didn’t mean they had to be miserable.
But showing Narissa a shred of kindness had been the equivalent of attempting to pet a feral cat. She hissed, showed her claws, and would have tried to scratch him across the face.
So, he’d chosen to let her walk away, which only led to her wallowing in copious amounts of winter berry wine.
“Sol.” A soft, sparkling voice called from behind him.
Solarius turned to find Sarelle, her hands clasped together. She was spinning a silver ring around her finger—the focal point was coated in stardust and diamonds and looked eerily similar to a tiny wolf skull.
“Hello, sister.” He leaned forward slightly to inspect it. “Is that an animal skull on your finger?”
Sarelle immediately tucked her hands behind her back. “I don’t want to discuss it.”
He levied her with a wary look. “Very well…”
“Sol.” She entreated him again, her sapphire eyes pleading. “You must do something.”
“Must I?” he asked, already knowing why Sarelle had approached him. “Lady Narissa has made her sentiments quite clear. She wants nothing to do with me.”
Rubbing her lips together, Sarelle’s gaze flicked to Narissa, then back to him. The female in question was now stumbling toward the balcony, tripping over the hem of her wedding gown with every step.
“Solarius, please.” A small wrinkle of concern furrowed across her brow. “I don’t know what transpired between the two of you during your courtship, and I will not ask as it is not my place, but Narissa is obviously hurting. I beg of you, save her from further shame this evening.”
“Further shame?”
Solarius glanced around the ballroom as Narissa lurched past a group of ladies whose blatant snickers of disdain could be heard over the strumming of music. His insides simmered at their mocking sneers and vicious glares. He handed Sarelle his untouched drink and popped his jaw.
“Fine.” He rolled his neck, mentally preparing for whatever battle he was bound to face with his new bride. “I’ll go fetch her.”
Sarelle offered him her gratitude, but Solarius was already stalking toward Narissa, who had vanished through one of the stained glass doors leading to the outdoors, hunting her like predator to prey. He had no idea if she would actually listen to him, he’d never witnessed a drunk Narissa before. For all he knew, she may very well try to toss him over the balcony’s edge.
He made brief eye contact with Ariesian, who was in a deep conversation with their youngest sister, Creslyn, and her new husband, Drake Kalstrand. Solarius had no doubt he would be privy to the information they discussed at a later time, but knowing Ariesian, he wouldn’t want to sully Solarius’s wedding night with talks of treason. Ariesian tilted his head, just slightly, to where their mother stood upon a small dais in Prince Aspen’scompany. Trysta was rambling on about something, gesturing over the grandeur as though she was somehow responsible for any of it, while Prince Aspen maintained an expression of tedious boredom, his gaze fixated on something or someone at the back of the ballroom.
The hairs along the back of Solarius’s neck prickled and his skin crawled.
He didn’t care if he shared the same blood as his mother, he didn’t trust her in the least.
Stalking past the dais, he shoved open the majestic stained glass door depicting a mighty ocean wave crashing against the shore, and was assaulted by the frigid winter air.
There was Narissa, showered in the silvery wash of the winter moon, with a flurry of snowflakes dancing around her. The pale blue wave tattoos on her ears glowed, and he caught glimpses of another decorating her spine before it disappeared beneath the seam of her dress. Her wild golden curls whipped around her as she gripped the smooth, gilded railing with both hands. She was trembling, though whether from the cold or some other source, he couldn’t be sure, and every so often her shoulders gave a violent shake. Over the whisper of the wind and the call of the sea, Solarius could just hear the faint tinkling of bells.
Not bells.
Pearls.
Ivory pearls bounced off the stone balcony, the sound of it was almost enough to rip his heart from his chest.
