“Who needs mine when you’ve brought yours.” The pull of his glove revealed scarlet marks on his skin. “Fiend.”
She choked on a second swallow. “I saved you from yourself! You should hope it will scar and forever remind you that not all your thoughts need voicing.”
His narrowed gaze lifted to find hers. He raised his hand and instinct told her to retreat. Instead, her back met the cool column, pinning her in place. Clad in achingly soft leather, his thumb drew along her mouth, coming away wet. All the while, a roguish glint lit his eyes.
Lux tossed her head to the side. “What was that for?”
His lips met the edge of the bone mask. “Not all my thoughts require voicing, I’m told. Relax, Necromancer. You look poised to attack someone.”
“Perhaps I am. Leave me be.”
“Suit yourself. Though your body must ache every night, being kept so rigid.”
“Please, don’t overtax yourself with thoughts on my body.” Glowering, she slid around his side. “I’m starved. We can discuss what to do from here afterward. If you’ll excuse me.” She didn’t bother inviting him along.
Most gave her a wide berth as she wove toward the tables tumbling with food. Those that didn’t, she needed only to bare her teeth to send them stumbling. Lux smiled. She wasn’t here to make friends. Not with these people. Not with anyone.
She surveyed the rising confections, stacked on crystal and arranged in towers of delectable scents. She selected a meat-filled pastry and wondered how she should go about scrubbing the feel of Shaw’s thumb on her mouth from her mind.
“No napkin? How barbaric.”
Lux froze at the dripping voice, her chest stinging.
Morana, the mayor’s daughter, and the source of nearly all the invisible wounds Lux had received while trapped within her domain. She apparently took after her mother in all ways but one: of a height like her father, she and Lux were nose-to-nose now.
Lux took in the elaborate leather costume before her, ample curves on near-full display.
“Outlandish choice, that.” Morana gestured to Lux’s gown. “It’s just as well, for color always did give your skin a jaundiced look.” The mayor’s daughter smoothed back a loose tendril of golden hair, blue eyes made brilliant beneath the row of garish chandeliers.
“Pleasant to see you as well, Morana. Interesting costume.”
“Isn’t it? A wyvern-rider.”
Lux nodded, already bored and suddenly tired.
“And here comes my wyvernnow.”
Lux couldn’t prevent the huffed breath of laughter as Morana’s husband weaved through the crowd, an elaborate headdress rising above them all, complete with spiked horns. Tall, weak-shouldered, with black hair and even blacker eyes, he stopped at his wife’s side—after taking the time to observe every other young woman along his journey, of course.
“Lux.” His eyes traveled down and up her costume. “You’ve certainly grown.”
Morana’s lips tightened.
“Yes, I have. Though nine long years haven’t appeared to have aged you both in the slightest.”
The mayor’s daughter flashed her teeth in a semblance of a smile. “True. My darling Colden is as handsome as the day we married.” An arm snaked around his waist.
He didn’t reciprocate. “Likewise, my dear.”
The two of them were going to give her a headache. Drenched in sarcasm, Lux said, “As lovely as this has been, I must get back.”
Morana’s hand clamped on her arm, icy tendrils winding upward so like that of the tree’s, she flinched. Morana felt it, and grinned. “Get back to whom?”
Lux glanced at Shaw from across the room, and Morana laughed. A thick sound that oozed over her, bringing back memories she wished to forget. “He doesn’t appear to mind your absence, you poor thing.”
It was true. As the crowd moved about, dancing to the music or swaying unnaturally with drink, Shaw stood surrounded by no fewer than three bright and sparkling creatures. His lips even appeared upturned in a smile.
“One must drop a few crumbs for the chickens every now and then.”
