Tertulyn groaned softly and shook her head as she helped me into the steaming bath. I hissed at the heat but held up a hand when Nahua went to add cool water. The hot felt good.
The dress was a bold move, but it would be worth it to shock Con. Plus I could forgo my elaborate superstructure for once. I might even be able to enjoy dancing. Dancing. I nearly groaned. “Ibolya—I diverted you earlier. We need someone to teach Conrí at least a simple dance.”
“Begging Your pardon, Your Highness,” Orvyki put in, “but I passed that message along because I thought Ibolya might be delayed. Percy is in the antechamber now showing Conrí the steps.”
Imagining the brooding and taciturn Con learning to dance from the extravagant and flip Percy made me smile as I leaned back in the meltingly hot water. Tertulyn cleaned the last of the makeup from my face. “I don’t know how You can look happy,” she muttered.
I cracked open my eyes, seeing that the other ladies were on the far side of the room, helping Ibolya with the gown, wig, and needed accessories. “Let me find humor where I can, Tertulyn,” I replied. “My choices are not always My own. You know that.”
“No, Your choices should be for us,” she hissed back. “You’ve been fascinated by that man from the beginning. I know You better than anyone. You can’t lie to me.”
“Actually, Lady Tertulyn, I’m not going to justify Myself to you at all,” I replied in icy tones. So much for my practicing tolerance. Wisely, she subsided at that, and did not speak again, except as related to my getting dressed.
Calla and Zariah hadn’t returned, nor did I expect them to, with all they had to arrange. Another advantage of the dress Ibolya suggested: I wouldn’t need so many ladies to help me into it. Once the four with me had dried and oiled me, I asked Ibolya to see to coordinating clothing for Con, since she’d done so well choosing mine.
“He must look regal,” I told her. “If he balks or gives you any trouble, remind him that he promised Me.”
Tertulyn looked sour, but Ibolya agreed with eager delight. She gave Orvyki and Nahua some last-minute advice on the body makeup, then departed.
None of my ladies besides Tertulyn had dragged their heels at helping me ready for this pivotal event, and they’d all shown unusual initiative. Perhaps I’d relied on Tertulyn too much, neglecting opportunities to award responsibility to my junior ladies.
The polar opposite of every court gown I’d ever donned, this one allowed me to wear nothing underneath. The fine webbing of the gold threads clung to my body from rib cage to hips, allowing for nothing but my skin beneath. Just above my pubis, the skirt flared into a spiraling swirl of cascading mesh, slit in numerous places to reveal my legs to upper thigh. The flexible metallic curlicues of the bodice cupped my breasts and connected with hooks low on my back, leaving my shoulders bare.
Tertulyn did my makeup, as always, but with a much lighter touch and blending the usual paint to match my natural skin as so much of it showed. She glued on long black lashes to match the wig, lightly tipped in gold. For my mouth she grudgingly agreed a glossy scarlet worked best, with only a trio of gold jewels at the corner of each eye.
Orvyki wove a chain of delicate golden orchids to hang round my neck, with one larger to nestle between my breasts, while Nahua draped my long hair with a golden net, studding it with more of the orchids. At last Tertulyn knelt to fasten the elaborate gold laces that held the arched shoes with thin dagger heels onto my feet. I had to take a few practice steps, as they were unusually high, but then I posed for them.
“Well?” I asked. “Honest opinions, as there’s time to change.”
Tertulyn shook her head. “It’s too extreme. Even for the Flower Court.”
Ibolya had returned for the finishing touches, assuring me that Conrí would do me justice. She looked at me with shining eyes, but glanced at Tertulyn, hesitating to contradict her senior in rank.
“Ibolya?” I asked, pointedly.
“You look gorgeous, Your Highness,” she gushed, clasping her hands together. “Not like a girl or the virgin queen, but like a woman. Like a sorceress queen from the old tales. Every lady in the court will die of envy, You’re so beautiful. They’ll never stop talking of how You looked tonight.” Orvyki and Nahua chimed in with fervent agreement.
Perfect. If Anure had to hear of this massive betrayal, I might as well give him and his court plenty to chew on. Keep his spies busy with my outrageous costume and they’d perhaps pay less attention to the import of this alliance.
“We just need to add the crown,” Tertulyn noted, at least discreet enough not to argue further.
I hesitated, as it would create quite the visual gulf between Con and me. I wasn’t sure I wanted to highlight our differences in station so pointedly. “I don’t know. Tonight sets the tone and the people need to see Conrí as My legitimate husband.” Just get through tonight.
“Euthalia, You have to wear Your crown,” Tertulyn said. “Don’t let this ex-slave You married diminish You already.”
I opened my mouth to reproach her, but Ibolya—protecting which of us?—spoke before I could. “But, Your Highness, Conrí is wearing his crown.”
“What crown?” Tertulyn snapped, rounding on her. “He is a King of Slaves, you idiot!”
Ibolya didn’t flinch, displaying all the serene composure I could wish of any of my ladies—and which Tertulyn seemed to be losing entirely. “His own crown,” Ibolya replied. “His people from the ship brought it. I feel quite sure You’ll find it adequate, Your Highness,” she added to me, “though it is unusual.”
I nearly laughed. As if Con would have anything but an unusual crown to represent his unorthodox kingship.
“Very well then,” I said. “My crown, if you please.” They sprang into motion, guiding the crown onto my head and pinning it in place. Without the usual high wig, I found it easier to balance, less heavy. Perhaps my married queen look would be these long, natural wigs. For as long as that lasted, which might not be more than a few weeks, depending on how quickly and viciously Anure staged his reprisals.
“Where is My husband?” I asked.
“Waiting for you in the antechamber,” Ibolya volunteered. “Percy has gone to dress for the party, and Conrí is supervising the stonemasons while he waits to escort You.”
The stonemasons? Hmm. “You all may go,” I told them, “so you can also change for the party. Take all the time you need. Inform Calla and Zariah that they may do so, too, if they wish. Conrí will escort Me, so they needn’t change if they don’t have time. I won’t need you to attend Me.”
“Not to contradict Your Highness,” Tertulyn said, “but it seems to me that You’ll need us to attend You more than ever. You cannot trust Your safety to that man.”
“That man is My husband, sealed by My own vows and by the blessings of Ejarat and Sawehl,” I replied mildly enough, but letting her hear my unyielding conviction. “Our fates are tied and I have no qualms entrusting My safety to him. Now go. I’ll see you at the ball. And remember: The wedding has been secret, but only a surprise to those not in the know. You may pretend to all sorts of inside knowledge that you cannot possibly discuss.”
All but Tertulyn smiled at that, knowing they could parlay such hints into even better status than they usually enjoyed at the parties that would no doubt go on all night. They hastened away, Tertulyn going without a backward glance. I mentally sighed, knowing I would have to talk with her.
“Ibolya,” I called, and the young woman turned back. “Dismiss the stonemasons, too. They may finish once we’ve departed.”
She curtsied and left. I waited a few minutes, examining myself in the mirror and giving them all time to clear out. I’d rather we got this over with alone, just me and my husband, just in case he turned out to have prudish ideas. I did look different. More worldly and mature. No longer the concubine in her glass case. No matter what else it changed, my marriage had opened the Night Court to me. If Con failed to please me in bed, I could always access the deligh
ts there.
If I only had a few weeks to live, then I planned to enjoy them to the utmost.
I glided out of the bathing chamber, through the sitting room, and into the antechamber. Con had his back to me, and he crouched, chipping at something in the erstwhile hole in the wall beside the door. It had been hastily filled in with newly mortared stones. Not a permanent solution, but enough for privacy.
Touched that he’d paid attention to my complaint, I studied him while I had the leisure of him not knowing it. He’d put on the leather cloak he’d first worn into my court, and it spilled over the floor. Not elegant by any stretch of description, it nevertheless had a powerful impact. Roughly stitched together with thick sinew, the leather panels seemed taken from a variety of sources. None human, I decided, despite the rumors.
And he did wear a crown, one that also reflected his contrary nature. It might’ve been a pretty thing once, but the silver had been allowed to tarnish, and he’d wrapped the base in strips of leather that matched the cloak. Light showed through gaping holes where jewels had been inset and pried out. Others held a polished stone I didn’t recognize, black and somehow lightless.
I understood why he’d chosen it. The crown somehow epitomized the razed and defeated kingdoms Anure had left in his wake. The tarnished silver seemed to match Con’s corroded skin, harsh as his voice, and I wondered what it would take to make them all shine again.
He’d lifted his head at my footsteps, but finished whatever he’d been doing, then grunted in dissatisfaction, setting down a tool. “It’s not perfect,” he said, rising from the crouch and turning, “but it will—holy fucking Sawehl!”
28
Lia just smiled, wild and sensual. I expected her to lick her lips to delicately remove the blood of the hapless victim she’d consumed.
Staring at her and yet uncertain where I could politely look—Sondra’s instructions couldn’t have anticipated this—I ended up scanning her up and down, desperately wishing I had the courtly manners to carry this off. The desire pounded through me, hardening my cock, which hadn’t fully relaxed since kissing her. How was I supposed to be polite to a woman I wanted to ravage? I had no idea how men—at least, the kind of man I wanted to be, not the brutal examples I’d grown up around—handled this kind of thing.
She waited, posing for me, her clear eyes—even larger and more defined with the black lashes and simpler makeup—dominating her fine-boned face. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, shining like obsidian, framing her pale naked shoulders and slim body.
Otherwise she wore practically nothing at all. Certainly nothing on her upper half, where her naked breasts, fully on display, were cupped by some kind of gold jewelry. They’d colored her nipples with gold paint, but that didn’t disguise them at all. The rest of the gown—if you could call it that—clung to her flat belly and slim hips, her skin showing through the loose weave. Her skin, as smooth and unblemished as appeared only on a person who’d never exposed it to the sun. I could make out the triangle of her pubis before I yanked my gaze with ruthless determination back up to her face.
Which didn’t help at all because she watched me with that same predatory amusement, daring me to find words.
I cleared my throat. “Is this … for wearing to bed?” Though I tried to ask the question neutrally, a hopeful note crept in. She’d been waiting for it, because she pounced.
“No, Con,” she purred. “This is My ball gown. Do you like it?”
Mentally I recited a tirade of blistering curses at Ambrose. He couldn’t have wanted me to marry some meek and mild princess. No. That would have been too easy.
I should lie and say I did like it. Though that wouldn’t be a lie because I did like it. I more than liked it. I didn’t think I’d ever seen a woman look so distractingly beautiful. Still, even granting that my memories of the court at Oriel had gone dim and tattered with time and heartache, I didn’t remember any woman dressing so … naked.
I’d hesitated too long, because Lia pouted. “You don’t like it.”
I opened my mouth, hoping the words would come, then caught the glint of malicious humor in her eyes, and belatedly remembered she was not a woman to pout. Baiting me then. “I like it,” I admitted, my voice gruff, the honest lust obvious. “You’re a beautiful woman and even smarter than you are beautiful. I trust you know what you’re doing.”
She considered me, the fake sulk disappearing, a hint of surprised pleasure in the curve of her red lips. “Thank you for that, Con. Yes, I do. This gown will be shocking, but only because I wear it. You’ll likely be scandalized by far worse tonight.”
Sondra had tried to warn me about the Flower Court. “I’d rather be shocked by naked bodies than other horrors I’ve seen,” I pointed out, and she sobered.
“I imagine so,” she replied. Then transferred her gaze to the wall. “Thank you for having that fixed. What were you doing to it?”
Grateful to have something else to look at that wouldn’t involve me fighting not to stare at her lushly bare breasts, I stepped aside so she could examine the repair work. “The stones aren’t fitted right, see?”
“So you were fixing it?” She sounded entirely bemused.
“Yeah,” I admitted, realizing belatedly that it likely wasn’t royal behavior. I glanced at her—and had to drag my gaze up to her eyes. “I know something about rocks.”
“I’ll have it properly repaired tomorrow. In the meanwhile, I appreciate you taking steps to fix something that bothered Me.”
“Teamwork, yes?”
She smiled, a wry, subtle curve of her painted lips. “Yes.”
“What now?”
She glanced at a fancy piece on the wall, made of wheels and a swinging pendulum. “We have nearly an hour until we need to make an entrance. I hurried my ladies along and let them go early so they could dress up for the occasion, too. Right now you and I are superfluous and would only be in the way. Would you like a tour of the palace?”
“It’s that or stay and consummate the marriage now.”
She actually considered it, looking me up and down, gaze lingering at my crotch, where she could undoubtedly make out how ready I was. Impossible though it seemed, I hardened more at that salacious attention. Without blushing, she met my gaze. “We could. I have nothing on beneath this gown, but you’d have to be careful not to muss Me.”
My throat went tight and dry. I manfully swallowed, wishing I could as easily push down the raging desire that washed over me at her bald suggestion. And at the thought that I could slip a hand into one of those high slits that revealed her slender thighs and find her womanhood beneath. I might as well be that ten-year-old boy who went to the mines for all I knew what to do then.
I cleared my throat. “That seems…” Too cold. Too like animals rutting. Too disrespectful. Not something I trusted myself to do in my current state. Nothing I could articulate without sounding like a fool. “Too rushed,” I settled on.
She raised an eyebrow painted the same ebony as her hair. Did that mean this hair still wasn’t her natural color? “I think neither of us entertains sentimentality about this liaison, Conrí. The point is to get it done with.”
Was that the point? Despite her cool and dismissive demeanor, I suspected she felt more strongly about bedding me than that. “Later,” I decided. “A tour sounds good.”
“You’re never quite what I expect,” she mused. “Shall we then?” She extended her hand with the orchid ring. After the slightest beat, I caught on and offered her my arm and she looped hers through the crook of my elbow, resting her hand on my forearm. “People will stare, but will pretend not to. Let them. Ignore any impolite enough to catch your attention. They are beneath your notice unless I introduce you. Otherwise pay attention only to Me.”
“That won’t be difficult,” I muttered, and she laughed, quietly, but warm and real.
“This is new to Me, too,” she murmured as I opened the door. “I shall be practicing ignoring reactions, too.”
We stepped into the hall and her guards snapped to attention. New faces now, as her previous guards had been drawn away by the pitched battle in the hall. I’d have to speak to their commander. A serious lapse of discipline that they’d left Lia’s chambers unguarded, even as well as it had worked out for me. Possibly Ambrose had something to do with it, but nevertheless.
People raced about as we strolled through the halls, the palace clearly in a frenzy of preparation. As she’d indicated, Lia ignored them all with regal indifference, pointing out various artworks and interesting bits about the architecture. As we approached, the people with no other exit scooted to the sides of the halls, bowing and averting their gazes.
“I have something to show you,” Lia said, turning down another wing of the sprawling palace, this one away from the main activity.
I refrained from commenting that she’d shown me—and everyone else—pretty much everything already. A provincial attitude no doubt. What would my mother and sister have thought of Lia and the licentiousness of her ways? Oddly, I thought they both might’ve appreciated it. My mother had been a fiercely intelligent queen, not unlike Lia, stern and regal when in court. And my sister … She would’ve been the same. She should never have died the way she did.
It hit me then that I already knew I’d die before I let Anure have Lia. I would have to find a way to destroy him while keeping her safe.
“Through here,” Lia said, and led me into a long and shadowy arcade, lit only by glassed-in narrow windows high on the walls. “We keep it dim in here,” she explained, “to preserve the art.” She kept walking past extraordinary paintings and portraits. So many that they hung with their frames practically touching. Something stirred in my memory, a feeling about them that seemed familiar from long ago. Could these be from before Anure?
Then I halted, feeling even more gutstruck than when I’d turned to see Lia in all her nearly naked glory. An entire wall of paintings I remembered from Oriel. And there—the portrait of my mother and father, formal in their royal gear, my sister standing beside them in the gown commissioned for the painting, her slender hand on my father’s knee.
The Orchid Throne Page 28
