by JK Ensley
“Did you think I was going to strike you?” He placed his hand upon her forehead. “Hmm, you’re not febrile.” He touched her cheek, running his fingertips along her tiny sapphires. “May I see your wound?” He reached for the collar of her kimono.
She jerked away. “No! You may not!”
“Kagi Naga.” His voice was gentle, almost shaky. “What have I done to make you think I would harm you in any way? What have I done save worry and fret over you? From whence comes your vile hatred?” He searched her strange pink eyes. “Not but a few short days ago, I first laid eyes on the most enchanting creature imaginable, stumbled upon her in the middle of a twisted world ruled by a madman. And only seconds later, I witnessed the horror of my life. That same madman held this magical woman to his cold lips as he raised a blood-stained dagger and plunged it deep into her lovely back.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “I stopped breathing, Milady. I don’t even remember picking the gun back up. My mind was only on getting him away from you. My stomach turns in on itself every time I remember that shiny hilt… sticking out, there beside your spine.” He pulled her close against him. “I still can scarce believe you live. I doubted my own mind, doubted my own sanity. I was certain of nothing concerning your blessed presence… until Izaru looked upon you as well. That’s when I knew you were no Spirit, no figment of my imagination.” He released her and stepped back. “And when you just now said you were leaving to attend your promised love, desperation seized me. In that moment, I would have done anything to keep you within my sight. Even if I had to bind you.” He lowered his head. “Do not hate me. If you disappear when I close my eyes this night, I will understand. Just… please, do not hate me.”
“I do not hate you, Prince Suou,” she said. “I hate your face.”
His brow was furrowed when he raised his head. She immediately blushed, feeling deep guilt over using such brash words.
“Is it… Musashi?” His voice was racked with pain.
Tears filled her inhuman eyes. “Suou, forgive me. I did not mean to hurt you. I chose my words carelessly. You saved my life. For that, I will be forever grateful. But in truth, you were never supposed to see me. I am not meant to be in your world. My presence alone may have already proven a terrible thing for your kingdom.” She placed her hand on his, covering his troubled heart. “Our paths crossed when they should not have. And that is my fault. Let us be thankful for what we shared and say our farewells.” She squeezed his hand. “And yes… I was speaking of Musashi. I do not hate your face. Prince Suou’s face is a glorious thing to behold. Thank you for sitting by me during my time of need. Gratitude for your kind heart.”
Jenevier sighed. Looking upon the troubled shadow now cast over his handsome features, it pulled at her heart.
She cleared her throat. “I owe you a great debt, Milord. Ask one thing of me, anything. If it is within my power, I will freely grant it.”
“Careful,” Uriel warned.
Suou’s eyes brightened. “Dance with me,” he said eagerly. “Grant me but one dance, one of my choosing. Then I shall let you take your leave.”
“No,” Uriel all but shouted.
She turned toward the frantic Arch. “No? It is but one dance, Uriel. Only a moment ago you demanded I attend this party. As his date, I might add. And now you balk at a single dance request?”
“I know not who this Uriel is you always speak to.” Suou chuckled. “Yet I hope you never hold such disdain for me, Milady.”
She looked closely at the Prince. He was hard to read, even when she really tried. Strangely, his mind was partially closed off to her.
“Suou, do you not find it odd I speak to someone who is not there?”
“So you do know there’s no one there. Good.” He laughed. “Of course I find it odd. I find everything about you to be odd, thus my consuming infatuation. I have never met one such as you, Naga.”
“And you should thank your lucky stars you have not,” she mumbled.
“So? Will you grant my one wish? Will you trade a dance in exchange for your life?” He couldn’t contain his mischievous smile.
“Tell him, no,” Uriel said.
Jenevier was at a loss. “Is there nothing more, Your Highness? It seems a pity to trade three long days of your life for a mere dance, when you could have… anything.”
The suggestive way she said anything truly turned her stomach, but Uriel’s insistence had given her pause. She had made the offer, pretended to be a wish-granter… now she felt like a rabbit caught in a snare.
Hearing his breath hitch, Jenevier noticed his racing heart beating wildly beneath his palm. She quickly pulled her hand back.
Dammit, she thought. Uriel, when I get out of this, we will duel. You and I—to the death. Someone’s ashes will blow upon the wind. And I care not if they are mine.
“Mind your temper, little sister. Think about it like this… if he beds you, you will be free to go. Daichi can easily heal any mark that passionate little act might leave upon your mind.”
Uriel, how can you be so stupid? Some scars… even Father cannot heal. …Idiot.
She had tried to sound vicious, but her quivering voice only sounded like the helpless twittering of a baby bird as it flitted through his mind. The Arch felt a stab of pain run through his essence.
You are an idiot! Raphael yelled in his brother Arch’s head. Forget not who it is you now speak to. Kagi Naga is no stranger to the dark desires of men. Why do you think this man’s face strikes such fear in her heart? I cannot think of anything that could shatter her more—being entered by this particular man.
“Forgive me, little sister,” Uriel whispered. “I did not wish you more pain, honestly. It’s just, well… my wings did more than tingle when he proposed his dance request. I know not what it is. But something feels… off.”
“Something feels off?” she spat. “Truly? You would rather see him disrobe and mount me, than to simply embrace me as we swayed? In public, no less. And surrounded by an entire kingdom full of witnesses to boot. Is that what you’re saying, Uriel?”
Suou’s massive arms were suddenly around her.
She closed her eyes, mentally cursing herself. Oh, bloody hell. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit all.
“When will you ever learn to still your temper and hold your tongue, tiny Angel?” Uriel scolded. “You are, by far, your own worst enemy.”
You think I don’t already know that by now? Her silent voice was icy.
“Very well, then.” He sighed. “If it is within you, can you possibly try to learn from your mistakes? Do you think you can manage it, Naga? So many things have happened in your short life, but you continue to skip about like the universe is nothing but a rose garden minus the thorns. I mean… It’s just… Ugh!” He rubbed his furrowed brow. “Naga, do you think perhaps you can start today, do you think mayhap you can just learn for a change?”
She held the Arch’s determined gaze. He could plainly see the pain, the regret, the bitter sorrow playing about within those magical pink orbs. He held his tongue.
I will try and do as you say. But… can you do me one solid, Brother, just one? Spare my shame. Do not stay here and bear witness to what must now happen. Please, she begged.
“As you wish, little Naga.” He bowed his head, feeling great pity for her, yet powerless to help. “If I do not see you within an hour, I will return.”
Uriel slowly faded away. Their eyes remained locked until he was no more.
Prince Suou whispered…
“There once was a girl with a sapphire curl,
Hanging in the middle of her forehead.
And when she was good, she was very good indeed,
But when she was bad, she was horrid.”
Those were not the words she had been expecting to hear. Relief washed over her.
“How dreadfully clever, Milord.”
“Not at all.”
Jenevier half smiled. “I once heard something similar… in my youth. Where in the world did you c
ome up with such as that?”
“Longfellow.”
Her brow furrowed. “What kind of fellow?”
Suou chuckled. “Henry Longfellow. He was a poet of renown and a great storyteller of old. My mother used to say that rhyme every time I tore my clothes or made a mess in my room.” He buried his nose in her curls, inhaling deeply. “I changed it up a bit for you, Kagi Naga. It seems to suit you better than me, anyway.”
“My mother was a storyteller as well,” she whispered, blindly staring out the window, her mind on the many mistakes of her past. “I thought that rhyme came from Ashgard. Yes, it does suit me. You have no idea just how right you are, Milord. No idea at all.”
He hugged her just a bit tighter and swayed slightly, as if they were dancing to an unheard melody. Giant knots swelled up in her stomach.
His nose tickled her ear when next he spoke. “I can hardly believe the horrible things that spill unchecked from your lovely mouth. As I said before, fascinating.” He softly chuckled. “And if I were ever so blessed as to know you, Naga. It would not be as crude as what must be playing about in your mind. You are the farthest thing imaginable from a beast. I would never mount you. Nor would I ever shame you… as I had to do when first we met. Had there been any other way to tend your wounds, I would never have removed your clothing minus your knowledge and permission.” He turned her to face him then. “No. I will count myself lucky if I am granted but one dance. I will wish for nothing more, not yet.” He winked playfully.
She audibly released the long breath she had been holding. Blessed relief filled her heart.
“Gratitude, Your Highness, and forgive me. Yes, I fear I am unpolished at best. It is but one of my many flaws.”
“If all your flaws are as entertaining, I should hope you to be made of nothing else. Flaws alone would suffice.”
She blushed. “Well, that’s certainly one wish I can easily grant.”
“And what of my other? Shall you grant it as well?”
His face lit up like a child’s—a child intent upon mischief, eyes sparkling with the coming excitement of it.
She looked into those big, wonder-filled eyes. If he had wanted anything more of me, he could have simply taken it. If his mind is not intent upon carnal pleasure, what could one little dance hurt? She sighed resignedly. “Very well, Prince Suou. But only one.” She held up a single finger as she spoke.
“Of course, only one.” His dark eyes blazed with anticipation. “But it must be of my choosing.”
She nodded. “Aye, Milord. That it will be.”
Chapter 8
Jenevier
(ZHEN-ah-veer)
The bubbles tickled her nose. Champagne was something new to her. She found the color alone to be positively captivating. Holding the sparkling glass flute under her nose, she inhaled the faint rose scent.
She smiled to herself. A lovely shade of pink… it’s just too cute not to drink, she thought. I must remember to take some of this back to share with Vittorio. He will love it.
When Suou handed her a third glass, she giggled. He looked down at her from the corner of his eye and smiled.
“Are you enjoying yourself, colorful little Princess?”
“I suppose I am.” She giggled again. “Now that everyone has stopped staring at me, this party isn’t so bad. It is quite lovely, actually.” She looked up at him then. “Oh, but I am not a Princess, Sire.”
He lifted a single eyebrow. “Is that so? And would you like to be?”
He almost chuckled out loud at the serious look that crossed her face—deep concentration furrowing her brow.
“Can you be a Princess and an Empress at the same time?”
He strangled on his champagne. “No,” he choked out. “I believe the title of Princess disappears once you are crowned Empress.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Oh well… sorry to disappoint you, Prince Suou, but I cannot be your Princess. I have been Empress of Jinn for many years now. I am afraid my people will not release me so easily.” She sighed. “Seems they love me, and I them… madly.”
The sullen butler whispered in his Prince’s ear. Suou gave him a single quick nod, sending the scowling-faced Izaru disappearing into the crowd.
“Would you like another?”
Suou replaced her nearly empty glass with a fresh one, minus her answer.
“Apologies, but I believe I am done, Your Highness. I probably shouldn’t have any more. This seems to affect me differently than does wine.” She absently took a drink as she spoke. “When shall we dance, Milord? I hate to be rude, but I absolutely must be going before too much longer. Vittorio will be hurt by my absence, and I’m certain Daichi will be exceedingly cross with me. He will either yell at me until dawn, or refuse to speak to me entirely.” She continued to ramble. “He may even be gone from the palace. I hurt him so badly one time… he hid from me. I ended up in such bad shape, I nearly cracked. Literally, that time. I was minus my color and full of darkness…” She paused a moment. “Just thinking about it vexes me sore. I would like to gut that damn soul-eater. Perhaps I shall. When next we meet, I will not be lulled by those enchanting silver eyes of his, no. Next time, I vow—”
“Naga!” Uriel shouted.
She turned toward the giant Angel. “Oh, Uriel. Has it been an hour already?”
“It has been nearly two,” he hissed angrily.
“Apologies, Arch.” She lifted her glass to him. “But the Prince kindly let me off the whole bedding thing and settled for the dance only.” She giggled and took another sip of champagne.
“Naga… what have you done?” He sniffed her. “Are you… are you drunk?”
She felt Suou’s nose tickling her ear. “I see your friend has returned.” He gently slid his arm around her waist.
She looked up at the smiling, handsome man. “Oh, can you see him now?”
He chuckled softly. “No, Naga. I am afraid that is a talent you alone possess.” He lightly patted the small of her back as he released her.
“Madam?” A deep voice came from Jenevier’s left. “May I?”
She turned to find a stranger bowing to her, face toward the ground.
“May you what?” she asked, confused.
He looked up at her. “May I have this dance?”
She looked at the man for a moment, before turning back to the Prince, giving his black formal jacket a tiny tug.
“Umm… Your Highness, is this the dance you wanted?”
Suou was busy speaking to a group of young noble ladies. They were smiling and batting their lashes at him. He turned to her, smiling kindly. “No, my dear. Not just yet,” he said, before his attention was pulled back to his admiring guests.
“Very well, then.” She looked back to the deep-voiced stranger, inclining her head. “Yes, kind sir. I would be honored.”
“Ahh, but the honor would be all mine.” He held his hand out to her, palm up. “My name is Kazuto, Akio Kazuto.”
“Pleased to meet you.” She bowed in her Dragon manner. “I am Naga, Kagi Naga.”
He gently took her hand, gracefully leading her away. “Ahh, Kagi Naga, is it? I must say, I have never met a woman named after a Dragon.”
She quickly set her empty glass on a passing tray. “Never have you met a woman such as I,” she mumbled to herself.
Kazuto proved to be an accomplished dancer. He swept her around lightly, flowing to the graceful music. She silently thanked Vittorio for the private lessons he had given her so many years ago.
After what felt like at least their second song together, perhaps it was even their third, a rather stiff acting gentleman stepped in and took her out of Kazuto’s arms.
“It is not proper to spend so much time with only one partner,” the stranger said.
“Apologies.” Kazuto looked to her. “I forgot myself, Milady. Your beauty erased my sense of time and propriety. Forgive me.” He bowed.
“Not at all.” She smiled. “Gratitude for the lovely dance, Lord Kazuto.
”
The brusque stranger tightened his hold upon her, whispering in her ear. “The Prince has been looking for you. Do not leave his side again.”
She then looked up into the stranger’s face. “Izaru?”
Jenevier started to struggle, but his arm was like a vise about her waist.
“Do not,” he hissed. “I assure you, Milady. You will not win in a struggle against me. Behave yourself and you may come out of this with only some slight bruising.”
His smile was forced and showy as he began spinning her about the floor with elegantly precise movements. When the song had finished, Izaru escorted her back to the Prince’s side. She jerked her arm free of his cold grasp and they glared at each other.
“I will say this only once, Izaru.” She narrowed her eyes threateningly. “Handle me thusly again, and your father’s name will end with you. I will painfully remove your desire for descendants. This I vow.”
The man looked as if he were going to growl at her. “And I will eagerly remove your tongue before you leave this palace,” he spat. “Consider that a promise.”
Jenevier smiled timidly toward the Prince. “Your Highness, would you mind if Izaru and I took a little stroll?” She gracefully laced her arm through the butler’s, enraging him further. “It won’t take long. We have something to discuss, he and I. We will return momentarily. Well… I will. Now, if you will excuse us?” She curtsied politely.
“No. I wish you by my side.” Suou took her hand, gently pulling her closer, tucking her against his side. “And I fear my butler would not live through the experience.” The Prince cut his eyes toward the other man as he spoke. “I yet have need of him… and his descendants.” He smiled teasingly at the man.
Izaru stomped off in a huff.
“You elicit such strong emotions from people, little one.” Suou chuckled. “They either love you madly, or despise you terribly.”
“Aye, tell me aboot it.” She smiled. Well, more like, she smirked. “Which way do you suppose Izaru leans, Your Highness? Love or hate?”
The Prince strangled on his drink. “I can say with all honesty, little Sakura. I have never been quite so entertained.”
