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“We’re not dying today, folks. Tonight, we celebrate our friends coming back to life, and we’ll dance and drink. So, move your stoney bodies. Chop chop.” Griffin sways, and arms and legs gliding in unison as he waves over the gargoyles, demanding they join him.
A smile tugs at my lips as I watch him, his white hair floating on air as he closes his eyes and feels the music, the violins, the flutes, and dances as if no one is watching. “Is he always like this?” I say with a chuckle, leaning in slightly toward Asmo.
“Mostly.” Even he can’t fight the smile as he witnesses Griffin’s suave moves.
“That is you and Finn.” The queen gestures to all of Griffin. “I’m not sure Eva was even involved in the making of him.”
“Me?” Asmo holds a hand over his heart as if he’s been wounded and snaps his head in her direction.
“Yes, you. He’s got Finn’s no-fucks given attitude and your charismatic charm. Griffin is exactly like I’d imagine you had you not been trapped in the Realm of Monsters. I guarantee it.”
Asmo snarls a lip, rubbing at his chest like she’s driven a digger in deep and twisted the blade. “You wound me.”
“Wound you? You should be proud. He’s happy and alive, and comfortable with himself, beast and all, because of you.” She smacks his arm, and it rips a giggle from my throat.
Taking a sip of the punch, I raise my brows. Fruity flavors explode on my tongue, sweet and sour and savory all at once.It’s delicious. I quickly down the rest of the glass and return to the punch bowl for more, but when I return, Asmo and Alice are gone from the spot I left them.
Surveying the room, I find them being tugged onto the dance floor by Griffin, his head bobbing to the violin’s tune. Asmo grimaces, like he’d much rather steep in the pits of hell than dance, but the queen seems to quickly pick up the beat and grips his other hand. In unison, the two of them tug Asmo along, and they disappear into the group of gargoyles.
The throne room pulsates with vibrant energy, full of hearty gargoyle laughter and light. The gargoyles have become lively, all having abandoned their table of food and now grinding on the dance floor. I lean against the table, sipping my drink as I watch the scene before me, hoping for a glimpse of the three of them, curious to see if they’ll ever get Asmo to dance.
By the time I’m four cups deep, the mae lights transform into a kaleidoscope of colors, casting their glow on the merriment of the room. The sweet scent of punch and wildflowers swirls around me, intoxicating in its intensity.
"Why are you still standing here? Get you pointy ears out there!" Griffin grins, grabbing a cup of punch as he takes a moment to catch his breath.
“I’m not really sure how to dance to this,” I admit, hiding the flush in my cheek with my cup. “Elven balls are more formal, partner dances. Not so much the jerky hip movements.”
“You mean twerking?”
I stare at him, unfamiliar with the word. “What?”
“It’s called twerking. It’s what the gargoyles are doing. Believe it or not, it’s a dance style that’s existed for years in demon culture. Though, way back when, in the time of the old gods, the royal maidens would do it to seduce their suitors. Of course, that was prior to the gauntlets and bloodbaths my grandfatherreplaced it with. Though, I suppose the tradition stuck around in areas like Hell Hold.”
I turn my head sideways, watching the gargoyle’s carved butt jerk up and down, so fast, the stone nearly blurs. It’s an odd dance. It’s an odd way to lure a suitor, too.
In our culture, our balls and dances are made to show off how graceful we can be. It’s to show that we’re pure-blooded and that we’ve been educated in how to be a lady, that we’re esteemed enough to not embarrass our future husbands. But this… I’m not sure what it shows beyond the possibility for spinal issues in the future.
“How does being able totwerk, and twitch your hips like that, draw suitors? What does it prove that you can do?” I ask, turning to Griffin only to find him biting back a grin so wide, his cheeks have reddened.
“It doesn’t prove much of anything I guess, though when it’s ladies doing it instead of gargoyles, it’s a sight I have no wants to look away from.”
I ponder that a second, still under how it narrows down who he’d wish to mate with. “But what specifically makes you decide who’s twerk is best?”
Griffin howls out a laugh, then downs his glass. “You just pick whoever you want to touch more. And if they’re into you, they might twerk on you laying down.”
I try to imagine that, but the only possible theory of how one would twerk laying down makes me think of a fish out of water or a person seizing. Surely, that’s not what demons see as sexy… Right? It has to be a misunderstanding.
Yanking my arm. Griffin drags me deep onto the dance floor, forcing me to join the celebration. My vision shifting as if I've drunk cups upon cups of faerie wine.
“What was in that punch?” I ask, yelling over the music.
Griffin arches a brow. “I’m not giving away my secrets. Why?”
My senses buzz with an otherworldly intensity, the room taking on colors so vibrant in bright it puts me in awe. I can see the music, the streams of it glowing as it mingles in the air. “I think I’m drunk,” I admit, realizing I haven’t let go of his hand.
His laugh hits my ears as he leans in to say, “Not drunk. You’re seeing a like a fae.”
“You can see music, too?”
