Page 77 of Black Sea

He removed my hand from his face, as if my gesture had upset him too much. “None of this will happen.”

I shook my head with a disappointed sigh, looking down. “Amlach—”

“ Nauriel.” He took my chin, demanding my attention. “Do you know why I haven’t found anything to tell that old man in these two months?” He descended with his fingers on my throat, staring at me with such intensity that I felt he was touching my very essence. “Because I didn’t look for anything.”

“Then what did you do?” I demanded, panting when his hand disappeared underwater, and his fingertips went down my cleavage.

A devious half-smile crept onto his lips. “I stole from the Masters and Mistresses who were fools enough to want me.” He drew circles around my belly button. “A little at a time, obviously, to avoid arousing suspicion.”

“To what end?” I asked him, my eyes pleading for him to put his fingers inside me and rekindle that indescribable pleasure only he knew how to bring me back to.

But Amlach withdrew his hand from the water and placed it back on the edge of the tub, sneering so that my nostrils flared with irritation and then with excitement, as he pressed his body against mine, squeezing me against the marble.

“To cover the cost of a ride on a freighter that will take us to the sea border with the Lands of the East,” he replied, his tone brimming with barely contained lust. “The captain will give us a lifeboat, and we’ll go from there”—insecurity cast a shadow over his gaze—“anywhere you want.”

I was so shocked that I just stood there with my mouth open. “When—”

“Tonight.” Amlach used his knee to spread my legs and pressed his strong thigh against my throbbing sex, making me moan. “At my signal, we’ll leave the party and run to the port.”

I impulsively rocked on his leg, loving the friction of his hair against my bare, sensitive skin. “But—”

He pressed two fingers on my lips, cutting me off. “I’ve already found a safe path.” He applied slight pressure to encourage me to open my mouth, then slid his fingers along my tongue. “Before midnight, we’ll be far from this land.” I sucked his fingers, and he sharply inhaled with a hiss of pleasure before quickly withdrawing his hand, his eyes taking on something of a hatred glint. “Trust me.”

I observed him, my gaze burning with passion. “When were you going to tell me about this plan of yours?”

Amlach gave me a cunning smile. “I just did.”

With irregular breathing and a sensation of my heart imploding in my chest, I watched him step back with an arrogant expression and lean under one of the ampoules to enjoy the water running over his shoulders.

Gradually, I regained control over my emotions and started to think more clearly about what he had just revealed to me. About the fact that if everything went according to Amlach’s plan, we were close to returning to our kingdoms.

Or to our island.

46

Finally, after being held in the houses of all the other Masters, the usual evening celebrations of the Games returned to Roxior’s.

An eerie ambiance filled the reception hall, which was decorated with all shades of red to celebrate the blood moon that astronomers had predicted days earlier.

I looked out the large arched window, near which Amlach and I were talking with a Master and his wife, admiring the vermilion disk that seemed to burn among the stars adorning the ink-dark sky.

I felt edgy.

We all wore robes that harked back to different blood hues, and the swaying fabrics made me feel as though I were in a thick and too-warm and viscous sea.

Wine so dark red it appeared almost black poured from the fountains onto the prepared tables, its strong aroma blending with the sweet scent of rose petals that half-naked male and female slaves with golden collars threw into the air as they danced provocatively among the guests.

The music was overly high-pitched and shrill and unevenly timed, and the strings of their instruments appeared on the verge of snapping, cutting off their fingers.

Wine dripped from the beards of men who would gulp it down without restraint, even if most of it ended up on the floor. The women’s purplish lips stretched into wide smiles so exaggerated they looked almost unnatural, nearly monstrous.

I watched people trod petals and wine puddles until they involuntarily left crimson stains, which gradually widened and seemed to create a mantle ready to swallow everyone present.

“Nauriel?”

Amlach’s voice reached me as a distant echo, so faint that I paid it no mind. Instead, my eyes met Roxior’s, who stood close to the musicians with his busty wife, her hair dark as cocoa and skin honey-colored.

The man, wearing a crown of roses that made his irises appear almost like crystals, lifted his golden chalice toward me. There was something cryptic about the hint of a smile he gave me.