31. Tears that Aint Coming

Chapter 31

Tears that Ain't Coming

LORI

C aptive in Iris's body once more, I tease the knots of my long black braid, giving it more volume. My reflection in the full-length, standing mirror is one of pure annoyance as I secure a heavy pair of diamond ear cuffs over my pointy ears. "If you would only get off your high, frosty horse, you'd see there's nothing wrong with it."

A black sequin dress with a thigh-high slit flows around my body, revealing every curve, and underwear is conspicuously absent from my outfit.

"I'm not saying it's wrong. But two parties in that many days… All these people drunk together under one roof. It's a recipe for disaster," Elio answers from his piano bench, tickling the notes without thought. "I don't see why we couldn't celebrate both birthdays at the same time."

"Well… it's done now. The invitations went out weeks ago. The rooms are all made up and ready, and our guests are about to arrive. I can't tell them they're not welcome." I throw Elio a glance over my shoulder. "Are you ready?"

The fancy tuxedo Elio is wearing, combined with Iris's striking appearance, indicates some fancy birthday party, indeed.

Elio only sighs in response, his shoulders hunched. "Are you happy with me, Iris?"

His voice reeks of sadness. I yearn to spin around and walk to him, to see what is so obviously weighing on his mind, but Iris does no such thing.

"Of course! Why would you ask that?" I answer instead, touching up my braid and makeup one last time.

"All these parties…this noise… We can't get a moment of peace." He wraps his arms around my waist and meets my gaze in the mirror. "A moment alone together."

"You knew you married a spring fling, dearest. I couldn't survive on books, music, and solitude if I tried," I chuckle. A teasing smile glazes my lips as I spin around in his embrace and tighten his black tie. "You're a bit of a bore, you know."

"But you're happy?"

I slap his chest. "Shush. I'm perfectly happy. But there's one thing I've been meaning to ask you."

"What?"

"Can you ask Sarafina to skip it? It's Mother's birthday, and you know how she is… She can't stand the sight of death."

Elio lets go of me, my earlier annoyance reflected in his eyes. "Yet she manages to stand the sight of me."

"You're the king. And my husband. Sara is…depressing."

"A year ago, she was still princess of this castle, Iris. We can't cast her out now, not when she's decided to pledge her life to the realm."

"Fine. I'll tell her myself." I hurry down the staircase and curl my hand around the railing as I spot Sara reading by the window, sprawled over a velvet loveseat in a powdery blue dress.

Byron naps on the windowsill, the Faeling propped on his stomach, his iridescent wings folded over his back. If Sara's pimply face looks barely out of puberty, then Byron's round cheeks and chubby arms have not yet gone through it.

"Sara! There you are," I say.

But the most striking difference about this young Sarafina is her half-buzz cut and the vibrant blue runes carved into her skull. She's a grim reaper, but how? I reel, taken aback by the revelation, feeling disconnected from the scene for a moment.

It's impossible… grim reapers aren't supposed to retire. Once a reaper, always a reaper.

That's how death works.

"My guests are about to arrive," Iris says, her measured voice rising in excitement at the end—or perhaps warning.

Sara snaps her book shut and cradles her sleeping Faeling between her palms. "I get it. I'll make myself scarce."

She blows past me on her way up the stairs, and I stroll outside, where the Winter gardens aren't frozen or cold, but in bloom. The absence of snow between the stone paths reveals an emerald-green carpet interrupted only by cheerful mounds of moss campion with their star-shaped, pink blooms.

In the shade, creeping saxifrage snakes along the walls of the castle and weaves over the cedar hedges of the maze. Tables are set out under the branches of the Hawthorn. The sacred tree is all decked out in spring, clusters of delicate white leaves adorning its branches. Their silvery underside shimmers in the sunshine as though they are inset with diamonds.

Bronze cloths, matching silverware, and white orchids decorate the dozen or so tables, and a couple of servants hurry to get the details of each table right for the celebration.

I blow past them and slip inside the maze, walking around the tight corners like I know exactly where I'm going, and stop only at a dead end.

In the square-shaped clearing, an aspen tree towers above the hedges, the grass directly underneath its canopy overrun by alpine asters and various species of wildflowers.

Almost as soon as I stop walking, a hard hand covers my mouth, my back suddenly pressed against the hard planes of a man's chest.

If I were in charge, I would elbow his groin and spin out of reach, but my heart booms, and Iris relaxes against her captor, seemingly happy to surrender.

"You look glorious in that. Let's see…" The man slips a hand through the slit of the dress and growls as he buries his fingertips inside my flesh. "Good girl. I see you got my message."

"Oh, E… Where have you been?" I purr.

I feel on fire, like my body is going to flake off into ashes if he doesn't touch me right there, and I peer over my shoulder to look at him.

Same cheekbones. Same platinum-blonde hair. But the man snaking a shameless hand between my thighs isn't Elio. A gold-flecked pair of ivory wings are spread on each side of him, his chest bare. "You're hungry for my cock, my wicked weed?"

Iris backs up to grind against his crotch. His isn't the touch of a man feeling up another man's wife for the first time, but of a confident lover who knows exactly what he's doing.

"Yes!"

His hand knows every single button to push, and before long, Iris is panting and grinding against him for more friction.

"Does he make you feel like this?" he growls, picking up the pace until pleasure burns through Iris's body like flames.

"Never."

He spins me around to kiss me, and I've never been more acutely aware of the lines between Iris's body and my own consciousness because my insides curl up and harden in disgust just as Iris melts under the man's touch. Inside, I'm in tatters.

"Get on your knees," Ezra orders.

I want to stop, but I can't. Contrary to Elio's kisses in the other visions, this man's touch doesn't vanquish the hold of the vision. I want to run or leap or cry, but I can't.

I fall to my knees instead, the body I'm currently inhabiting only too happy to obey Ezra's command.

He grips my hair, his other hand busy unfastening the button of his white linen pants. "Good girl. Now suck me off and make me remember why I still fuck you even though you married my brother."

Eager to focus on anything else than what's about to happen, I catch a glimpse of long, aspen catkins tumbling down to the ground and a flutter of iridescent wings…