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“The gods are angry,” Ambrose rasped.
“Aren’t they always?” Her own heels tapped against the floors, each step causing Ambrose to tick or flinch. “Do not worry about the gods,” she said a little softer, carefully kneeling on the floor.
“They want us dead.”
“Not all of them.”
“No.” Ambrose blinked slowly. “Not all of them.”
“But don’t you worry your pretty little head about any of that tonight.” Idalia slipped Ambrose’s feet into her shoes, tightening the buckles. “Tonight is about finding a suitor. Not too many opportunities left before we must crown our kings.”
Silence.
“Ambrose?” Idalia stood, waving a hand before her sister’s face.
Those eyes were distant, unfocused. Idalia had always wondered if Ambrose had lived in her own world, but this took it to an entirely new level. It looked as if her sister was physically here but mentally…she was far, far away.
“Come now, or we will be late,” Idalia spoke in a tone of voice only an older sister could master. With a light touch, she guided Ambrose out the door where a guard waited to escort them. He gave a deep bow as they entered the hall.
“My queen, I have been warned that after the previous event many of the suitors are wary.”
“That is to be expected.” She waved a hand. “You would be wary too if you witnessed the Impelling. It’s a frightful thing.”
“Yes, my queen.” He fell into step behind them.
Ambrose glided over the floors as if she was floating, her body light without the weight of her mind. Idalia held tight to her arm and kept her close to her side. Once they entered, the doors would be locked, only to be opened at the queen’s request. Of course, guards would be in the room with them as well, just not easily visible.
On a scale of boring and stuffy to unfit for a queen, tonight’s event landed a bit closer to the risqué side.
To the naked eye, the outfits they wore were expensive. Idalia knew that these gowns were disposable. They were made to be. The room she had selected for this event was one that remained warm year-round. Any event held in this room would instantly cover you in a sheen of sweat. That wasn’t even the best part…the guards held the door open allowing both queens to step in. The heat passed over her as if she just walked through a wall. Ambrose didn’t so much as twitch at the change. The door slid closed. The click of a lock turned in place.
Men were lounging about on the magic made lawn, chairs, and couches set up all over the space. A few had their legs stretched out before them, propped on one of the mini metal buckets she’d had brought for this very specific occasion.
Idalia took a slow inhale, letting the air burn down her throat before she smiled in the way she’d been trained to. She slipped her hand from Ambrose’s elbow down to her fingers and intertwined their hands as she pulled her forward into the event. As attention caught on their entrance, men turned to bow. Shirts were already drenched and clinging to several of their muscular forms. Yes…this was going to be a fun event indeed. As the men righted themselves, Idalia gave the room a once over, letting her eyes go from face to face to face. She didn’t acknowledge him but she knew he was there. Burke leaned somewhere along the wall behind her sipping his glass of wine. There was a long pause where not a soul moved and not a single suitor stepped up to the queens. Spineless cowards, all of them! Tugging Ambrose along, Idalia opened the first bucket revealing vibrant violet paint. Then she moved on to the next. Opening another bucket where underneath sunkissed orange waited. Within the room, they were only couches, men and two queens with flushed cheeks, no canvases, no paper, nothing any of the men might readily think to paint.
Their bodies would be the canvas.
Sweat and paint and touches that shouldn’t be allowed just yet. This was out of the public eye, and everyone was sworn to secrecy, locked behind closed doors for one evening of play. Idalia looked up, locking her eyes on the first man she saw in front of her and beckoned him forward with a curl of her finger. To his credit, the man did not appear as fearful as some of the others. His short blond hair hung over his forehead and a slow bead of sweat travelled down the side of his face. Idalia quite liked his gray eyes and the subtle stubble along his jaw. She let Ambrose go only to dip her finger into the paint. Thick drops of purple fell from her fingertip before she stretched towards the man, drawing a finger over his chin.
A lovely shade of lavender was bright against the man’s pale skin. His thin lips twitched at the corners but didn’t quite make it into a smile. “My queen?”
Idalia only grinned at him in return before the fabric of her gown twirled against her legs as she turned to Ambrose. “Come, Ambrose, find a man to play with.” Her voice rose as she addressed the rest of the room. “Today we shall paint.”
Did she need to give more explanation than that? If a man couldn’t deduce today’s scenario from her words, actions, and what context clues lay before them, then they were not smart enough to be king.
Idalia only hesitated to return to her victim of choice because Ambrose was staring dead-eyed into the room. Her sister was doing better, she was managing the changes, sheshouldhave been able to handle this. So why did she look like a thief caught stealing? Wide eyed and frightened.
Maybe I pushed her into this too quickly.Guilt rose up in Idalia, sour and stinging at the back of her throat. She tried to swallow it but it only made her stomach clench so tightly she had a worry filled moment where she thought her last meal might come back up.
The goal was to reunite her family, to make her parents proud, to show the world that she could do whatever it was her family needed of her. She gave them power. She made this plan and put it into action. The goal was not to ruin her sisters or to leave Ambrose this weird shell of a human.
“There are so many handsome suitors here; she must be having a hard time choosing. Poor thing.”
Thick and warm, paint dripped from her fingertip as she dipped them in once again. This time she held the man’s attention as she drew a line from the bottom of her chin all the way down her cleavage to her belly button. His attention followed with rapt interest.
Idalia tried not to turn back to Ambrose as she saw a familiar shape step up in front of her. Blue paint was smeared over Burke’s palms as he cupped Ambrose’s face and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. Life was coming back into her body as he pulled away, leaving large handprints.
“What’s your name?” Idalia asked.
