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“It’s the lipstick. Some of it got on you,” I explained, my voice a little shaky.
“Ah,” he replied, his gaze full of heat. “I see.”
Turning away, I checked around us and sure enough the man in the yellow mask had moved on.
I brought my attention back to Vas. “You didn’t need to do that.”
“You didn’t need to enjoy it,” he challenged with a smirk.
I smacked his chest. “Ugh, let’s just focus on our next move.”
“Already way ahead of you.”
Vas guided me from the alcove and we melded in with the crowd. The kiss was still playing on my mind as we entered a vast manicured garden with trees, bushes, and flowers I’d never seen before. Lots of them appeared to be night-blooming, which added a certain magical quality to the atmosphere. Above our heads the sky was a glittering deep blue blanket, the same colour as my dress.
I had to keep reminding myself that these people were horrid. Even if they kept beautiful gardens I couldn’t admire them for it, because so many lived lives of destitution just so that these folks could live in luxury and surrounded by beauty. When I thought about it that way my resolve hardened.
“What’s going on?” I whispered to Vas, my lips still tingling from his kiss. He glanced down, his attention on my mouth and then on my cleavage. I snapped my fingers in his face. “Focus. Why is everyone out here?”
He blinked and seemed to come back to himself, rubbing the side of his head.
“Sorry. Your breasts are more distracting than normal tonight.”
I glanced down, remembering I wore no bra, then arched an eyebrow. “How distracting are they normally?”
His eyes captured mine, glittering with mischief. “Normally they’re very distracting. Tonight they are extremely distracting.”
His answer surprised a laugh out of me. “Okay, good to know.”
“I think it might be time for the Glorins’ light display,” he went on, changing the subject.
I was momentarily confused before I remembered the woman from the stall when I first arrived in Treyu. She mentioned something about the Glorins, too. “What are the Glorins?”
“They’re a female priestly class. Full-blooded demons who dedicate their lives to their faith. The High Demon families worship them and attend their ceremonies.”
“A priestly class? What god do they worship?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
“Gloria, the Star Goddess,” Vas answered. “The light display is put on each year to honour her.”
“Oh,” I said, watching the attendees gather in groups around a stage that had been set up in the centre of the garden. Since it was night, there was a bit of a chill in the air. I moved closer to Vas, seeking his warmth. He let go of my hand and slid his arm around my waist, securing me to his side. Goosebumps claimed my skin, but not because of the cold.
All around the garden there were lamps hung on strings to illuminate the space, like fairy lights, except these were glass cylinders filled with glowing lava inside. They were lava lamps but with actual lava! Again, I had to fight the instinct to be impressed.
Sensing his attention, I turned my head. Vas’ gaze was fixed to my profile. “What?” I whispered, my skin tingling at his keen focus.
He exhaled. “You look so fascinated.”
“That’s because I’ve never seen anything like this.”
He glanced around, a dark expression crossing his features. “I suppose neither have I.”
“You’ve really never been up here before?”
“To the palace? Of course not. What cause would I have to come to this opulent shithole?”
“It’s hardly a shithole, Vas, but I understand why you’d call it that.”
“You’re dazzled by the pomp and ceremony. Trust me, if you lived here you’d soon see the toxicity and cruelty that fuels these people.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him again about the Dicteps, whether he was actually related to him. Because if he was then there might a danger that someone would recognise him. Sure, Vas had spent most of his life in the mine, but if this Dicteps was as powerful as I’d been led to believe then surely he was aware of Vas, especially since he’d notoriously been one of the only people to ever escape from Red Armand’s mine.
Before I could speak, a hush fell over the gathering. From several entrances all around the garden, women in pearlescent robes began filtering into the space in orderly lines. There was a practiced, choreographed pattern to their entrance as they practically glided up onto the stage.
Their faces were obscured by masks, just like the audience gathered to watch them, but they were plain white masks without the fancy details or fabrics worn by the attendees.
“What’s going to happen now?” I whispered to Vas.
“Just watch,” he replied as the robed women bent to pick up small, unlit torches that had been placed around the stage. A final woman appeared, and Vas spoke at my ear, “The High Priestess.” There was no awe or worship in his voice. He was simply stating fact. It told me he had no respect for these priestesses and whatever faith they stood for.
