But what Seville extracted from her case wasn’t justclothes. It was lingerie. Specifically, the piece she’d had custom-made for me from Mrs. Marlow’s shop. She thrust it toward me, and I caught it midair. The gilded, silken fabric was dotted with onyx crystals for coverage across the bosom, but sheer beneath the bust with ebony boning and intricate, scalloped lace. The bottoms, if I could even call them that, were made with the same design and material but had absolutely zero chance of hiding my ass.
Heat flushed my cheeks. “You can’t possibly be serious.”
“Oh, I’m deadly serious.” Seville extracted her own scarlet ensemble that stood out like blood against her pale skin. “This is a coupling fete. This attire is expected. But...” She dropped her outfit on the bed and moved to the armoire, where she’d hung a few garments for easy access. She immediately snatched what looked like a long, see-through robe of sheer black material. The hems were sewn with gold stitching, but more impressive was the smattering of beetles crawling vertically up the center of the robe where it parted open. Each one had been crafted of gilded, near-translucent beads with shimmering, delicate wings.
“Seville,” I said, rounding on her with a pointed look. “That is the furthest thing from subtle.”
A happy chuckle slipped from her lips. “Good, because I wasn’t trying to be. I had Mrs. Marlow throw this together the moment we learned of the fete. Now put it on.”
The lingerie fit me like a second skin. Once I’d secured the final clasp at my back, I reached for the robe and stood before Seville. Her gaze lit with pure mischief and delight. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as she produced a golden chain and passed it through the loops along my waist, securely tying the robe in place. Not that it mattered. I was still on full display.
A knock sounded from the door, and butterflies took flight in my stomach. Rorik.
“What?” Seville called as she shimmied into her own getup. “We’re not ready yet.”
“Zeverin summoned me.” Rorik spat his father’s name through the door. “I imagine he’ll want to know if you’ve shared any tips with Dermon for mending.”
“I have nothing new to offer,” I called back. “Dermon will confirm that.”
“Good. I’m going down now to play the role of disinterested bastard and assuage any concerns beyond what he expects: incompetence.” With that, his feet thudded against the floorboards, and he was gone.
“This should do the trick.” She twirled once, watching her legs carefully to see if anything was exposed. Her chiffon lingerie was sheer from her chest down to her narrow hips, with only a carefully placed rosebud appliqué over each of her breasts. Her back was completely open, and to add even more allure to the look, she revealed her mosaic wings and let them flutter behind her. From her waist down to her ankles, the skirt was crafted of flowing silk and hinted at the shape of her legs.
“You look incredible.” The words felt so unbelievably hollow when in all reality, Seville was one of the most stunning people I’d ever laid eyes on. When I’d first met her, I’d felt a prickle of attraction. But now, she was my sister. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
She smiled as she slipped a red garter up her thigh where she planned to stash the perfume bottle of irysdrop, perfectly out of sight.
“You’re a vision yourself,” she said through a hum. A rush of excitement purled through my limbs. The last time I’d dolled up for a fete, I’d looked like a garden. But this made me feel exquisite. The brush of fabric against my skin was nearly erotic, and I couldn’t help but wonder what Rorik would think. I wanted him to come undone. I wanted him bare and vulnerable and completely, utterly mine.
Foolish.Still, I couldn’t help but want it.
“Now, let’s grab our concoction and be on our way,” Seville said.
We returned to the main sitting area, and she snagged the vial from the table. With ease, she peeled back the slip of fabric obscuring her leg and tucked the bottle safely in her garter belt.
“Time to get ourselves a blade.” She raised her chin slightly and brushed a few loose locks of hair off her shoulders. Even now, about to poison our host and steal from his private stash, she didn’t look the least bit frightened. If anything, she looked confident. Powerful. And she would make Zeverin regret ever insinuating she was only good for her womb.
Twenty-Five
The hall we’d dined in the night before had been transformed. A quartet was stationed in the far corner, playing soft music that murmured through the air like a heated breath. Wood-carved sofas with burgundy upholstery of varying lengths and sizes had been brought into the room, along with high-backed cushioned chairs that looked more like thrones. The floor had been covered in thick, plush rugs, and I lost count of the number of pillows effortlessly tossed throughout the space. There were only a few tables along one wall, and while there was an assortment of foods plated and attendants moved through the crowd with smaller, bite-sized morsels, the primary emphasis was the Douselle Kiss. It was everywhere. In tiered glasses that were full and ripe for the taking. In elegant fountains manning the room. On the trays of attendants and in the hands of guests.
Evers floated through the hall. They moved languidly as they exchanged pleasantries or enjoyed the food and drink. They were all a sight to behold. Leather, lace, gemstones, feathers—no fabric or adornment was off the table. They were walking masterpieces of beauty and seduction, and they were not afraid to revel in that truth. If they weren’t eating or conversing, they were dancing.
My gaze snared on a couple twining together in the center of the floor, their bodies illuminated by a dangling chandelier bedecked in pewter crystals. With each lazy twirl came a slow, sensual caress, and their clothes were sliding from their sweat-slicked frames. When the female’s bust was completely exposed, I inhaled sharply both at her beauty and at the brazenness of their actions. And yet... I cut a quick glance around the room. They weren’t the only ones.
In fact, they were quite... tame in comparison to others.
Sounds I hadn’t noticed at first now joined the sultry climb of music. Soft gasping moans. Deep-seated growls of pleasure. Heat flamed my cheeks as I spotted another couple rocking together on a chair. Her gossamer layers of skirts did nothing to obscure the slide of their bodies, and my heart hammered against my rib cage as she tipped her head back in pure ecstasy. The low light of the chandelier cast the room in an array of shadows, and in each sliver of darkness, something carnal happened. Bare backs. Legs. Tangled arms and heaving chests.
My throat dried, and I took an inadvertent step backward. Right into Seville. We’d descended from our quarters only moments ago, and already I’d forgotten she was there.
“Not what you expected?” She smirked. She scoured the room before momentarily pausing on a female Ever lingering near a display of small pastries. Kara. Her attire was a tantalizing mixture of black leather and studded silver, with just a hint of skin peeking through her tightly laced bodice. Her storm-gray stare found us, and I saw the hunger light in her eyes once she targeted Seville.
“I assumed Evers, you know...coupled,just not here.” I followed her gaze to Kara, and while bile still soured my tongue at the thought of what she did to my home, I couldn’t help but appreciate the way her corset cinched her waist.
“Partners are more than welcome to leave, of course.” Seville lifted a shoulder. “But this is fairly common. Not all fetes are boring, stuffy affairs like the one you attended.”
I raised an incredulous brow. “You considered that boring?” For as long as I lived, I would never forget that night. How the back lawns had been transformed into a mystical garden with gauzy, cloudlike canopies and glittering lights. How the tables had overflowed with food and drink, how the Evers had danced and moved with a mirth I’d never seen. And Rorik...
