Page 18 of Song of Night

He's apparently been given instructions for what type of outfit I am to wear, because he doesn’t ask me my preference on anything. He barely speaks as he makes several quick modifications to the outfit he brought out, sitting at a table a few feet away. When he’s done, he has me try it on and looks me up and down.

“Yes,” is all he says.

I look like I’m fitted for battle rather than a ball, though there are a few decorative embellishments. The pants are black leather, the tunic pale cream with golden thread stitched along the collar and down the V in the middle. The jacket is also leather, form fitting with small obsidian studs at the cuffs.

“One more thing,” the tailor says, and he goes back into the closet and returns with a pair of boots that travel nearly to my knee. When I put them on, he nods and says, “Good.”

We exit the side room, but the door is still shut on Zara’s side of the main room.

“They will be a while,” the tailor says, though how he knows this, I am unsure.

“I can wait.”

I take a seat in one of the chairs in the main room, but a short time later, Lord Kell opens the door and gestures for me to come out. “I’ll take you for some refreshments while you wait on your… companion.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I respond. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of refreshments at the ball.”

“Ahh, but it is necessary,” Kell says. His dark eyes glitter dangerously. “You being a blood fae, we can’t have you arriving hungry to an event with hundreds of guests.”

I stiffen, both at being called fae, and at Kell’s clear desire to separate me from Zara. If I protest, it will imply she means something to me. Which is no doubt what they’re trying to ascertain. “You’re too kind,” I say, managing to keep my tone neutral, though inside I’m fuming.

Lord Kell smiles a thin smile and leads me down the hall away from Zara. While I no longer feel the tether of wild magic that connected us before the explosion, it almost feels as if I do. As if the further away from her I get, the more it physically pains me. If they do anything to her while I am gone, they will know regret…

We travel what seems twice the length of the Palace of Night, finally arriving in a large antechamber with several cushioned settees and large pillows scattered throughout. Silks are draped from the walls and candles glow in the corners. It looks like some sort of brothel. Even more so because there are scantily clad women and men draped over the furniture.

“I’ll wait for you here,” Lord Kell says. He pulls the door shut behind him.

Lord Kell had called me blood fae… Vyrin’s supposed claim on Illiare, on our people, is that we all descended from the fae, and so he is our rightful ruler. I’ve read the tales and histories, and it’s said there are many fae courts, just as we have different houses in Night. But in the books I read, it wasn’t clear where exactly those courts are located. Was Vyrin banished from the ancestral fae lands? Where are they located, and more importantly, where are the other kings and queens? The idea of more like Vyrin is not a pleasant thought.

I have only ever considered myself Daemonium, though rare in that I am a hybrid of both demon and vampire. For Lord Kell to so casually label me something else entirely makes a fresh wave of anger run through my body. But at the same time there’s a nagging curiosity… if there’s any truth to their claim, I want to know it. The idea of existing without knowing my true origin chafes at my soul.

The blood servants are watching, however, and no doubt will report on my behavior. So, I put aside my musings and I taste each of them, five in total, so nothing can be said of any particular choice. And also because I am desperately hoping that someone will sustain me other than Zara. That my desire for any blood but hers will return.

But they all taste like dust in my mouth. Every single one.

The more I consume, in fact, the more hungry I become, because they remind me that they are not Zara, and their blood is not her blood. And while they do not seem bothered in the slightest when I bite them, which I strongly suspect is due to being drugged, they are not moved by it, either. They do not melt into me as Zara does, they do not make the same sounds of pleasure.

When I’m finished, I stalk to the door and yank it open, causing Lord Kell to startle. “Did you find that to your satisfaction?” he asks.

“Yes, thank you.”

He cocks his head to the side as if trying to determine my truthfulness, but then just says, “Let’s move along then. The ball will be starting soon. Your companion will meet us there.”

Kell and the guards escort me another great distance. I am fairly certain we are moving in the direction of the ocean. I’m trying to keep a feel for the layout of this place, which isn’t easy given its vastness and design. We turn down a long hall, and suddenly the castle is quite transformed. Instead of drab gray stone there is marble the color of fresh cream veined with gold and silver. Ornate columns line the path, and the ceiling is painted with scenes of the ocean.

Rising at the far end of the grand hallway are a set of enormous double doors. They’re easily five times my height, and painted gold. Doormen on each side open them soundlessly as we approach, revealing a wide set of steps leading to a huge ballroom. The ceilings here soar even higher, and the far end of the room opens onto an expansive balcony. I can hear waves crashing beyond and see the sparkle of moonlight on the water.

The ball seems in full swing already, despite Kell indicating that I am the guest of honor. Hundreds of people mingle and dance and drink. They are dressed in exquisite gowns and many wear masks over their faces, glimmering things set with gemstones and feathers and pearls. There’s a huge table laden with exquisite food, and a fountain on the opposite side of the room shaped like a swan. Golden liquid pours from the swan’s beak, and giggling guests dance by, filling crystal goblets with the stuff. A trio of harpists play in one corner.

I’m trying to absorb the splendor of it all when Lord Kell clears his throat behind me. “Your companion has arrived.”

I turn from my position at the apex of the steps, and my breath leaves my chest.

Zara approaches, a half dozen guards behind her. She’s wearing an emerald-green dress that cascades to the floor, voluminous and set with tiny gemstones. It has no straps, hugging tightly to her breasts, revealing her bare shoulders and arms. The color glows against her bronze skin and raven hair, which someone has pinned atop her head with an array of jeweled clips. They seem to have somehow masked her bruises. She looks exquisite, and I hate the storm of emotions that burns in my chest.

I offer her my arm, because there’s no way in hell I’m letting her walk through this crowd of vipers unescorted. No doubt I’m not the only one who will notice how delectable she is. Her eyes flick to mine, then she takes a quick glance down at my outfit. She fidgets slightly, clearly uncomfortable in her attire.

“They took my daggers,” she whispers as she loops her arm through mine.

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