Page 4 of Lore of the Wicked Wood
Shrugging away from the brazen female, Atlas put space between himself and everyone surrounding him, then summoned his wings. Magic thrummed through his blood when they appeared, sleek black feathers streaked with gold. Unfortunately, all they did was garner more attention, including that of his ever-vigilant Captain of the Guard.
Caedian Trivaris took one step toward him in warning. His brow furrowed in concern. “Your Highness…”
Atlas held up his hand. “I’m not going anywhere. I just have to take care of something.”
“And by something, you mean?—”
But Atlas didn’t give him a chance to finish. Instead he shot upward, then aimed for the massive chandeliers rotating around the expansive ceiling of the Grand Cru, where a particular female was about to find herself in a shit ton of trouble.
Behind him, Caedian’s stream of curses faded away under the blast of music.
He flew a little higher, close enough to where she would hear him, but far enough away to avoid her fist if the opportunity arose.
“Everinne.” He crossed his arms over his chest. If Veros found out about this little stunt, he was going to be pissed. “What the hell are you doing?”
Her icy glare cut to him. She hated him, and for good reason. “None of your business.”
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” He kept his voice even, but when she released the chandelier and simply held onto it with one hand, his heart almost stopped.
“No,” she spat, then dragged one ankle up to her knee.
Her skin looked like velvet, all smooth and supple, and Atlas forced his gaze to stay focused on her face.
“Showing off your wingspan a little early tonight, aren’t you, Your Radiance?” She smiled then, but it was poisonous.
He wanted to wipe that stupid grin off her pretty little face. There was nothing he loathed more than when she called himthat.His next words held a bite.
“No more than you’re showing off whatever it is you’re wearing under that pitiful excuse of a dress.”
“Joke’s on you.” Her smirk sharpened. “I’m not wearing anything under this pitiful excuse of a dress.”
His jaw clenched. Godsdamn, she was trouble.
Everinne lengthened her leg, and suddenly all the lights in the Grand Cru went out completely. A roar of excitement sounded from the swelling ocean of people beneath them as shooting stars exploded across the glass dome ceiling. The music pitched, the once frenzied beat dulling to a more calming rhythm. Orbs of silver flashed in incandescent beams of faerie light while glitter fell around them like a waterfall of confetti.
The glitter collected on the collar of his shirt, coating his forearms and boots. It would take months to get this sparkly shit out of his wings.
But Everinne, her face was tilted upward like she was walking in the sun. Her hair shimmered, her body glowed. It clung to the pointed tips of her ears, where purple stones pierced each one. She looked as though she’d been kissed by the stars. The makeshift stardust sprinkled across her cheeks and nose, downher neck, then further still to the swells of her breasts. Atlas tore his gaze back up to her face only to find her watching him.
He shoved his hands back into his pockets, then shifted, stretching his wings.
“If you’d excuse me, I’m trying to finish my performance.” Everinne’s gaze dipped to the crush of bodies below them. “So I can have a celebratory drink.”
Atlas glanced down and spied Zoryana in the throng of people. He didn’t miss the look of worry in the witch’s eyes, or the two glasses she held in her hands. One nearly full of spiced wine, the other completely empty. He had no doubt which one belonged to Everinne.
A scowl marred his brow. “I think you’ve had enough to drink.”
“You’re not my babysitter, Your Radiance,” she taunted, reaching up to grab the chandelier with both hands. “Or are you going to run back to the palace and tell my brother?”
“I might,” Atlas snapped back, his anger rising. It infuriated him that she cared so little for Veros, no matter how many times he came to her rescue. “Especially since you blew him off tonight.”
There was a brief look in her eyes, an emotion he couldn’t place, but then it was gone. She simply stared at him.
“Do you mind?” Everinne’s voice dripped with disdain.
Atlas flew back, a little lower, just in case. “By all means, Wildheart, be my guest.”
Her jaw clenched at the use of the nickname, but it encompassed her in every essence of the word. Whether she liked it or not.
