Page 295 of Vasmora

Burgundy and black roses adorned nearly every corner of Eidolon, pouring from the balconies and bordering the doors and windows. A tunnel made of gnarled branches bent around us like a ribcage, its boughs draped in sheer, green fabric and speckled lights that loomed overhead like starlight. Rykaia told me they were star motes, tiny creatures that inhabited the forests, drawn by the moonflowers she’d woven into the fabric.

Tables had been placed about the space, laid with the finest porcelain. Candles added a warm, soft glow against the night sky, and the string quartet played a haunting melody that carried over the hum of conversation.

My dress, chosen by Rykaia, of course, was a form-fitting, black lace corset, with a deep-plunging v-neckline and cinched at the waist. The skirt flared out into a beautiful full-length, silver bell, overlaid with black lace applique that looked like roots crawling up toward the bodice. Black, sheer sleeves clung to my arms, the silver flames glowing beneath, and large, lacy structures that attached to my shoulders resembled black skeletal wings. A slit in the skirt bared far more of my thigh than I’d ever willingly put on display, probably why Zevander kept stealing glances throughout the night. My hair had been gathered into as neat a clipping as Rykaia could muster, given the wild curls that refused to stay in place, and at my throat dangled a small gem filled with Zevander’s blood, exchanged during the consummation—the equivalent of a wedding band.

A crowd of two hundred, or so, mingled amongst each other. Villagers I’d come to know, along with Zevander’s friends and family members I hadn’t yet met. Amongst the many unfamiliar faces, I spotted the fiend from across the room, once more staring back at me over the rim of his drink.

My heart thrummed in my chest, and I turned away to hide a smile.

The sight of him had always managed to flutter my pulse, but since our Bonding, it’d become far more than a mere flutter. For months after, we’d been unable to be in the same room together without stealing away to some shadowed corner of the castle. I’d been taken in a pantry, a broom closet, on the dining table, in the wine cellar, against library bookshelves and across his desk. Even the stairwell to his bed chamber when we hadn’t quite reached the room fast enough.

Zevander was relentless.

And I was his all-too-eager little feline, always willing to indulge.

“Maevyth?” Rykaia asked, drawing my attention back to where she, Allura and Calisza stood gathered around me.

“Yes?”

Rykaia chuckled, her dress a beautiful icy blue that complimented her hair. “You are so smitten. Can’t even hold a conversation without searching for my brother.”

Warmth rushed to my cheeks. “I’m sorry. What did you ask?”

“I asked if you think you’ll visit your sister in Mortasia, now that the Umbravale is open?”

The kingdom had decided collectively to keep the boundary open, and while not a single mortal had crossed over since the law had been passed, Aethyrians remained cautious. For years, they’d been made to believe mortals housed diseases that would taint their blood, and while some still feared the mingling of both worlds, many were optimistic.

“Yes. Once everything is back in order here.”

I’d spent the last few months traveling to Costelwick, helping the villagers clean up the webs and try to restore some of the damage the city had suffered. For hours a day, I scrubbed and painted, which was far better than Zevander’s job of collecting the dead to burn in the veins. I’d made connections with villagers, been welcomed by their families, growing a deeper sense of community. We were still destroyed but slowly rebuilding, and every night, Zevander and I would return to Eidolon exhausted.

But not too exhausted.

With another glance over my shoulder, a deep ache throbbed between my thighs.

“All the webs have been collected and turned over to the royal seamstresses.”

Not even the very vivid recollection of our earlier tryst could distract me from what Calisza said. For months, there’d been discussions over what to do with the mass of webs that’d been gathered.

“I’m having them produce clothing for the children in The Hovel,” she continued. “The silken webs are incredibly strong. Much more durable than our fabrics. Expected to last a dozen, or more, winters.”

I smiled. “That’s brilliant, Calisza.”

“Brilliant, yes.” Rykaia echoed and sipped her wine. “When is your Coronation?”

Drink clutched in both hands, Calisza sighed. “Aunt Lymeria recommends another year of training.”

As I understood, her aunt, the queen of Vespyria, had agreed to rule Nyxteros in the interim, until Calisza had been properly trained to accept her new duties. Once coronated, she’d be the first queen regnant to rule Nyxteros in three millennia.

Calisza fidgeted, her brows pulled tight. “In all honesty, I don’t even think that’s enough time. I don’t know if I’ll be ready, at all. My father would be so disappointed.”

Rykaia rolled her eyes and tipped back another sip of her drink. “With all due respect, your father is dead. And, with his death, whatever disappointment you imagine he might’ve felt.”

“Rykaia …” Allura said beside her, palming her face. “We talked about this.”

“Right. Apologies.” Rykaia lifted Allura’s hand, kissing the back of her palm. “What I meant to say is, he would be proud. You carry his magic. Not even Dorjan carried it, so what does it matter?”

Allura groaned, rubbing her forehead.