My throat dried as I fought to keep control of my emotions. “That’s the first nice thing you’ve said to me.”
It was hard to decipher what emotion coursed through his pupil-less eyes, but that reflective golden sheen passed over them again as he inched closer. When he was only a breath away and Ywena was shocking me to the ends of the realm, he dragged a thumb along my jaw until reaching my chin. Then he angled it up.
“Rorik.” Seville’s sharp voice broke his hold over me, and I backstepped out of his reach. He didn’t move. Instead, he blinked at the space where I used to be. And then a flood of anger raced through his expression, so volatile and threatening that my breathing stopped completely. It only lasted for a moment before he hid it all beneath a cool veil of indolence. Straightening, he turned to face his sister.
“Yes?”
“You know better than to steal the first dance. Plus, Jules is looking for you.” Seville glared at Rorik as he shrugged and offered a flippant wave.
Steal the first dance.Had it all been a power move? Really? It didn’t feel like it had, and yet I knew the Evers loved their games. A sinking coldness trudged through my limbs.
“Fine, fine. I’ll entertain her. Take care, Edira.” He sauntered away like a predator who’d grown bored of his prey, never looking back to see if I’d fled.
Seville groaned as she pinched her nose. “Fucking idiot.” Then, to me: “Orin is looking for you.”
“Rorik didn’t do anything,” I said once I found my voice. “I’m fine.”
I wasn’t, but she didn’t need to know that.
She narrowed her ice-green eyes as her gaze raked over my body. It was as if she could hear my lie. In the twinkling light of the magicked chandeliers, her stare glowed with power. Her skin was as radiant as ever and infused with diamonds—a perfect complement to her ethereal wings that shimmered like glass. Her bloodred gown was draped about her curves in the most tantalizing way, and a slit from hip to foot exposed her right leg. A lacy garter dotted with garnets wrapped around her thigh, and her Fernglove tattoo was inked beneath it as if she’d sheathed the thing and could draw it at a moment’s notice.
Seville scoffed as she adjusted the plunging neckline of her dress. “Even if he didn’t physically hurt you, he shouldn’t have touched you.”
“I’m not a possession,” I bristled, not caring that I turned a few heads as we went. “You all seem to forget that.”
Seville glowered. “Be that as it may, there are things at play tonight that you cannot fuck up. And Rorik . . .” She hissed, more to herself than to me as she maneuvered around a pair of drunkendancers. “I don’t love either of my brothers, but I know which one not to piss off.”
Glancing through the crowd, I spied Rorik towering over an Ever I could only assume was Jules. Like all of them, she was flawless, and she leaned against the trunk of a tree as she inclined her head toward him expectantly. Rorik’s grin was feral, and he dragged a thumb over her lips before pressing his mouth to hers.
I quickly looked away, surprised by the flicker of annoyance in my chest. So much for him calling me beautiful. I suppose that was a safe truth. Beauty was relative, and he was relatively occupied with another version of it.
The only pain I’d ever intentionally inflict on you...I cut off the thought before it could do more damage.
Orin’s deep laugh rose above the gathering of people, and Seville stopped to give me yet another once-over. She was still muttering under her breath about Rorik’s stupidity. I wanted to ask more, to understand this strained family dynamic that was so starkly different from the one I shared with Noam and Nohr. But I doubted Seville would give up any information willingly, and a crowded fete was hardly the time to pry.
Especially not when everyone parted to let Orin through.
Seville excused herself, planting a quick kiss on his cheek before disappearing into the throng of bodies. Orin came to a standstill, rapt gaze caught on me.
“Edira.” He swallowed twice, his eyes wide and full as he took in my appearance. “You look—”
... like a garden.
“—beautiful.”
It was the third time I’d been called beautiful since donning my dress, and maybe that’s why it felt like the compliment didn’t hold as much weight. Or maybe it was because I’d delighted in the shared surprise that came with Rorik likening me to a garden. It was such an abstract comment that felt so wildly synchronous.But no. I was done letting him invade my thoughts and play with my emotions. Not when another with much more grace and kindness was focused solely on me.
“Thank you,” I said with a smile.
Mirth filled Orin’s gaze. His ivy-green tailored suit was a perfect complement to my gown, as well as the emerald scales framing his temples. He’d styled his oak-brown locks to fall around his horns, truly as if he were wearing a bone diadem. I remembered the first time I saw him, I’d thought he was regal. I’d had no idea quite how magnificent he was. His tail darted behind him as he moved toward me, and he offered me his hand. I took it without hesitation.
With delicate fingers, he tucked a loose strand of moonlight-white hair behind my ear. As his gaze shifted to my collarbone, he grimaced. “Ywena, fly back to your master. Edira has no use for training tonight.”
Her reluctance was palpable in the way she nestled closer to my skin. And I wasn’t sure why, but that only served to irritate me further. It was hardly her fault that Rorik was such a colossal ass, but at least for tonight I wanted nothing to do with him. Still, I couldn’t—wouldn’t—dream of hurting her.
“Go on.” I gently nudged my finger beneath her limbs, and I swore to the gods that she actually huffed. I blinked as she took off, likely to find Rorik. Eventually, she’d have to come back. But for tonight, I was blissfully free.
“Now that that’s settled, what would you like to do?” he asked.
