Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Sultry music drifted down from the balcony above the solarium, masking some of the sounds radiating from the various couches and nooks. Beneath the music and the clink of glasses, there were thicker, heated sounds mingling with the hum of conversation. Teasing laughter. Low groans. Breathy gasps as bodies moved against one another.

The evening festivities were in full swing— an excess in all forms of lasciviousness, whether it be imbibing too much drink or indulging in the flesh.

I shifted on the couch I sat upon, my chest feeling too tight as my thoughts circled the general sense of unease that had been building since I’d spoken to Grady and had left Claude’s study. The cause of it could be several things. The raids along the border. The shadow market in Archwood. Claude. A Hyhborn potentially being involved in harvesting. Him.

He’s coming.

My skin felt too cold despite the balmy warmth of the solarium, and the sweet-tasting wine I sipped did little to warm me. I knew that whisper was for him— my lord— but what I didn’t understand was why I could sense that and yet nothing else when it came to Hyhborn.

I eyed where Claude was currently holding court with his closest peers— sons and daughters of Archwood’s most elite, those desperate to be close to anything Hyhborn, even a caelestia. They laughed and carried on while Claude held Allyson in his lap.

The Baron had disappeared more than once to step outside, and I feared he’d also been indulging in the Midnight Oil— a powder derived from poppies grown in the Lowlands and often smoked. Caelestias had a higher tolerance, but they didn’t seem to know exactly when they exceeded that tolerance. He had that unsteady way about him that always followed smoking the drug. Had he reached out to Prince Rainer?

I didn’t know, but I’d spent a good part of the day strolling near the wall, peeking into the thoughts of the guards who were on duty. Thankfully none of them had sent up any red flags, but then again, they would have to have been thinking about the shadow market for me to pick up on it.

However, I did learn that Hendrick, one of the guards, was thinking about proposing to the girl he’d been seeing.

Not sure what I could do with that piece of information.

I took another drink of the wine as I peeked over at the nearby divan, and nearly choked at the sight of Mrs. Isbill. The wife of a wealthy ship merchant was likely unrecognizable to most, since half her face was obscured by a jewel-encrusted domino mask. She was sprawled across the red cushion, the bodice of her gown exposing one breast. The skirt of her gown was hiked up to her knees, doing very little to hide the fact that it was most definitely not her husband’s head between her thighs. I knew this, because he was currently seated beside her, and whoever was between her legs also had his hand on Mr. Isbill’s cock.

My gaze flickered over those in attendance. Like the Isbills, most wore masks that covered half of the face, from the forehead to the nose. Some wore elaborate constructions of flowers and streaming ribbons, topped with crowns or garlands. Others were less dramatic in their approach, simply settling for one made of satin or brocade. The aristo used these masks to conceal themselves, as if keeping their identities hidden was the permission they needed to behave as they wished.

I glanced at Claude again. Like me, he wore no mask, and neither did Grady or the guards who stood behind him.

Grady and I had been studiously avoiding eye contact all evening, pretending that we weren’t witnessing all that was occurring in this chamber at the same time. No matter how many times the nights devolved into this, it was still awkward as hell.

I fixed my gaze on the floor, since it was the only safe place to look at the moment. The behavior of the aristo amused me. Claude never made any attempt to hide his desires. He wouldn’t be ashamed come morning, like some of the aristo in attendance surely would. Most of them would never behave in such provocative, wanton ways in public, but here at Archwood, when they were assured of not being recognized and among those who wanted the same thing as they did, there appeared to be no pretense of modesty.

I supposed their behavior wasn’t as amusing as it was sad. However, it was the aristo, not the Hyhborn, who had not only established but reinforced these rules of what they felt was appropriate behavior. These aristo were stifling themselves, and for what?

A groan of release echoed from the nearby divan. The head that had been between Mrs. Isbill’s thighs was now in the lap of Mr. Isbill. Gods, I really hoped this man ended up well rewarded for all his . . . hard work this evening.

Sighing, I turned my head to a nearby glass wall that overlooked the yards of the manor and the gardens.

I’d rather be out there.

The space between my shoulder blades began to tingle.

I needed to be out there.

I was moving before I realized what I was doing, muscles tensing to stand, when a man wearing dove-gray pants suddenly filled my view, his linen shirt left unbuttoned. Leaning back against the thick cushions of the couch, I looked up to see a white mask shielding all but the lower half of his face.

“You look like you’re in need of company,” the man announced.

“I’m not.”

“You sure about that?” He stepped forward, moving to where my legs took up the remaining length of the couch.

I did nothing to hide my sigh. This man wasn’t the first to make it past Naomi, who was doing her level best to lure would-be pursuers away. I was beginning to feel as if the solarium were a henhouse full of foxes. “I’m positive.”

“I can change your mind,” he said with all the confidence typical of a man who was used to turning nos into yeses. My senses opened, reaching out to him. Or with the confidence of a man who was used to forcing nos into yeses. “You won’t regret it.”

Knowing I should just ignore the man, I instead smiled up at him and did exactly what I shouldn’t.

Because apparently, I was in the season of making bad life choices.

I extended my hand. He didn’t hesitate, taking it. The moment my skin connected with his, I felt his voice in my mind, as clear as if he were speaking, but it was my voice that whispered, telling me things unknown till that very moment. His name. How he made his living. His wife, who was not here. I saw what he wanted— his intentions. He wanted to get off. Shocker. But there was more to that, something that brought on a bitter bite of disgust.

I tugged on his arm, guiding him so we were at eye level, and then leaned in. “I have no interest in choking on your cock tonight,” I whispered, my mouth inches from his. “Or any night, Gregory.”

His jaw went slack with surprise. He went to jerk his hand free, but I held on, letting him watch my smile grow— watching the blood drain from the skin beneath his mask. I released him. Eyes wide, he backed away from me and turned without saying another word. Laughing under my breath, I wiped the hand he had touched on the cushion as I once more spotted Naomi moving about the crowd, her long legs and arms shimmering from a dusting of gold body paint. She had lingered close to me most of the evening before I shooed her off. While her watchfulness was kind of her, it wasn’t . . . it wasn’t right.

I wasn’t her responsibility.

But she was coming straight for me.

“Scoot over,” she instructed, leaning over my legs.

I kept the glass of wine steady, watching Naomi as I grinned. It was clear Naomi was up to something as she all but prowled up the length of my body. The seductive, fluid movements of her body were a bit exaggerated. I knew she knew it too, because one eye winked. She wore no mask. None of Claude’s paramours felt the need to hide their faces.

“I thought you might want company.” She stretched out behind me, propping her elbow on the arm of the couch. She dipped her head close to mine. “Keep those special hands of yours to yourself,” she reminded me.

“I will,” I promised, knowing that her coming to me about Laurelin was atypical of her. She preferred that I remain unseeing to her future and to her thoughts. Sometimes that was impossible, though, even without touching her. I just didn’t let her know when that accidentally happened. “You know I don’t need the company, right?”

“Oh, but you most definitely do.” Her hand curved around my hip and squeezed gently as she flicked her gaze toward Claude. “The longer you’re alone, the more interesting you become to those around you.”

My jaw clenched. “You should be enjoying yourself.”

“I am.”

“Sure.” I shivered as the edges of her hair fell over my arm. “You must be thrilled to be lying behind me.”

“I am.”

“Naomi— ”

“Come now, you know I like to play with you.” She slid her hand down my hip as I rolled my eyes. Her nails slipped over the slit in the gown, skating over the bare skin of my thigh. “You know damn well my motives aren’t purely altruistic.”

I did know her actions weren’t solely out of the goodness of her heart. Naomi liked to play, when it was only her doing the touching and caressing. And because she knew that, no matter what, I wouldn’t forget what she asked of me and touch her, she had complete control. A part of her got off on that.

A part of me did too.

But I still couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty and . . . I glanced at Grady. And like a weight around the necks of those I cared for.

“I’m annoyed, though.”

I returned my attention to her, offering my glass of wine. “With what?”

“That Grady is here,” she said, taking the glass and finishing it off before placing it on the small end table by the couch. “Which means unless I want to see him pass out from the horror of seeing you come, I won’t get to really play.”

A strangled laugh left me. “He absolutely would pass out.”

“He’s such a bore.” Her chin dipped and she pressed a kiss to the curve of my shoulder.

“He’s really not.” My gaze swept over the chamber— over those talking, drinking, and eating, and those who were using their hands and mouths for other things. “I would be equally horrified to see him in the throes of lust.”

“I know. I’m just being petty because I must behave myself.” Pouting, she ran her fingers back over my stomach. “But in case you are curious about what he’s like in the throes of lust, all you need to do is ask me— ”

“Please stop.” My nose wrinkled. “Because I really don’t want to ever know what that looks like.”

“You both are as boring as Laurelin.” Naomi’s laugh faded.

My heart ached. “How is your sister?”

“A little better.”

I could tell her the truth about what lay in store for Laurelin past the fever, but I didn’t want Naomi’s relief at Laurelin’s improvement to be taken from her. And I was also selfish. I didn’t want to be the one to take that relief from her. “I’m sorry. I don’t know if I said that before, but I’m sorry for what she’s going through— what you’re going through.”

“Thank you.”

I nodded, staying silent while Naomi likely quieted those thoughts and emotions surrounding her sister. My gaze swept over the chamber, landing on Claude. Allyson was still in his lap, those around him continued to laugh and chat, but he was silent, his expression pinched as he stared at something only he could see.

“I think something’s going on with him,” Naomi said quietly, having followed my gaze. “Claude.”

“Really?” When she nodded, I asked, “Why do you think something’s going on?”

Her nails scraped over the thin material of the bodice, causing my back to arch. “I’m not sure.” She lowered her head, resting her chin on my shoulder. “But he’s been acting off— nervous and morose one moment and then overly joyful— and he’s been drinking a lot more of late.”

“That I’ve noticed.” I thought of his question this early afternoon. “You heard about what happened in the city last night?”

“Yes. Terrible news.” She shuddered. “But he’s been acting differently for weeks.”

“This is recent too, but there was news— ” My breath caught as she toyed with the peak of my breast. My own fingers pressed into the cushion of the couch in front of me. “You have a very skewed view of behaving yourself.”

“I do?” She winked at me. “You were saying?”

I shook my head at her. “I was saying there has been news concerning the Westlands.”

“What?” she asked, and as I told her what Ramsey had said, she slid her hand from my now far too sensitive breast. “What in the world could be causing this? Why would a princess turn against the King?”

“I don’t know,” I murmured. I hadn’t paid much attention to Hyhborn politics. Most of us lowborn didn’t, since it rarely impacted us, but that . . . that was changing, wasn’t it?

“King Euros has to do something about it,” Naomi mused. “Don’t you think?”

“The Iron Knights are suspected of being responsible for the raids along the border, right? And if that is true, that means they are doing so on the orders of the Princess of Visalia, but the King hasn’t done anything about the raids, so . . .”

“True.” She paused. “He’s a bastard.”

My shoulders shook with laugher. “I’m pretty sure all of those who are in power are bastards.”

Naomi grinned as her hand skated over my thigh.

My gaze flicked to the Baron. He was focused once more on Allyson. Was he at all worried about the raids encroaching farther into the Midlands? Or how close to utter devastation Archwood had come?

“What are you thinking about?” Naomi asked, and I gave a little jump as her hand made its way to the opening in the panels. “You look entirely too serious for someone in the midst of an orgy.”

I laughed, but worry gnawed at me, if not Claude. I glanced at Naomi. “Why do you stay here?”

She went still behind me for just half a second. “Why not?”

Sighing, I looked away from her.

“What?” She nipped at my throat when I didn’t answer, causing me to gasp at the dual stroke of pain and something entirely different. “What?”

I shot her a narrowed glare over my shoulder. “Ouch.”

“You liked it,” she retorted with a saucy grin. “What was that sigh for?”

“It was for the hand on my thigh,” I replied.

“As if that were true. You never make a sound when it comes to that, not even when I do that thing with my fingers that I know you like, because everyone likes it.”

I knew exactly what she was talking about. “I just . . . I just don’t get why you stay here,” I said finally, tucking my foot between hers as her arm slipped deeper between the panels of gown.

“Do you think I’m not happy?”

“Are you?”

Naomi didn’t answer right away, instead contenting herself with drawing her fingers over my navel and lower. She made no comment when no undergarments met her adventurous fingers, knowing that Maven had dressed me. “I stay because I want to. Because I am happy here.”

It was now I who went quiet.

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

I tipped my head into the crook of her shoulder. “I hope you speak the truth.”

“You should.” She looked down at me, brown eyes serious. “Look, I’ve heard you say it before. Archwood is like any other city in any other territory, but it’s pretty here. The air is clean and not clogged with smoke like the towns near the mines. I have a roof over my head and as much food as I can eat, and I don’t have to break my back for that.”

“You sure you aren’t breaking your back?” I quipped.

Naomi’s stare turned droll, and I giggled. “It’s not my back I break,” she said, and another small laugh left me. “Anyway, as I was saying, I don’t have to work myself to death in the mines or cleaning up after others. Nor do I have to marry to feel secure. I choose what I do with my days and with whom. Besides, I like fucking and being fucked,” she told me, hand slipping between my thighs.

“Never would’ve guessed that,” I stated.

Naomi’s laugh tugged at my lips, and my own crawled up my throat. That was the thing about her laughs. They were infectious.

“I’m not like my sister, you know? I never wanted to be married and be used as nothing more than a broodmare,” she said, the corners of her mouth tensing. “That’s why this life with Claude is perfect for me. There are no expectations. No boundaries. I like what I am.” Her gaze briefly met mine. “I wish you could like what you are.”

My breath caught. “I do,” I whispered.

“And I want to believe that.” Naomi kissed my shoulder. A moment passed; then she changed the subject. “I heard a rumor.”

“About?”

“The fires,” she said. “That the Hyhborn were involved in it.” “Oh?” I didn’t tell her what I knew. Not because I didn’t trust her. Obviously, I did. I just . . . I didn’t want her to worry. She already had enough on her mind with Laurelin.

“I wish I had seen the Hyhborn— not the burning of the buildings part,” she amended, and I snorted. “It’s too few and far between that we get to gaze upon their magnificence.”

I knew Naomi was being silly, but his features were too easy to conjure forth— the curve of his jaw, the slant of his teasing mouth, and those stunning eyes.

“Lis?” Naomi whispered, her lips at the curve of my cheek.

I fixed my stare to the stone floor in front of the couch. A flutter started in my chest, joining the one much, much lower as her touch elicited a fine, tight shiver. “Yes?”

“I asked if you wanted me to get you something to drink.” Her fingers danced over my lower stomach, inching their way below my navel.

“I’m— ” My words ended in a gasp. My gaze flew to Naomi’s and narrowed.

“What?” she said innocently. “Did my fingers grow too close to a very sensitive part of you?”

“Possibly.”

Her grin was pure devilish wickedness. “I do hope you partake in the Feasts this year.”

I raised a brow. “I think the only reason you’re looking forward to the Feasts is so you can wrap a Hyhborn around your finger.”

“What else would look better around my finger?” The tips of her fingers made their way down my lower stomach once more, stopping a mere inch, if that, above the junction of my thighs. “Besides you?”

I laughed.

Her eyes glittered. “Did I tell you that Hyhborn are . . . magnificently endowed?”

She was speaking only the truth. “Can we stop saying ‘magnificent’?”

“Never.” Her lips curved in a faint smile as her fingers swept back and forth, almost— almost brushing against the too-sensitive bud of flesh. “We’re being watched, by the way.”

“There’s not a single part of me surprised to hear that,” I muttered, but I looked to see the man who’d been with the Isbills watching, as was a woman across the way. They weren’t the only ones eyeing us. Luckily Grady wasn’t. Especially since Naomi’s hand was on the prowl again. “And you still have a very strange understanding of behaving yourself,” I said.

Naomi ignored that. “It’s hard when I know there’s an audience. I’ve always found it a little unnerving.” Her fingers began to move again in slow, teasing circles. “And a little arousing.”

“There’s something wrong with you,” I stated.

“Please, as if I don’t know that you too like to be watched.”

My hips shifted restlessly. “That’s beside the point.”

“Tell me something.” Naomi’s lips curled against my cheek. “Exactly how wet are you right now?”

My face heating, my eyes narrowed on her.

“If I wasn’t behaving myself out of respect for our poor Grady’s emotional and mental well-being, I bet I’d discover that you are.” Her nose touched mine as she whispered, “Don’t even try to lie, because the way your hips keep squirming will tell a very different story.”

“It’s telling the story your fingers are writing.”

She made a throaty sound in the space between my lips. “Oh, I bet my teasing got you nice and warm,” she said. Her gaze turned shrewd. “But I’m also willing to bet the fact that your thinking of magnificently endowed Hyhborn has got you soaked.”

Muscles tightened as my toes curled, but she was wrong. And she was right. While Naomi was technically behaving herself, I did . . . I did ache, but it wasn’t just me. I could feel the quickening in her breath. I felt her restless movements against my thigh. It was partly her touch, and she was also right. I was thinking of magnificently endowed Hyhborn, except I was thinking of him.

My Hyhborn lord.