He nodded curtly. “Last night…” he trailed off and I stiffened like a board. “Last night,” he continued. “Stone should have…”
“It’s ok,” I interrupted him. I so didn’t want to think about last night again.
“Cecilia, it is not,” he said sadly. “You cannot send Stone away anymore. Catonia and Evercy could have done what you sent Stone to do.
“Maybe,” I allowed. Through their friendships they gained more and more allies among the elves that gained them access to places usually forbidden to Dark Immortals. “But they are flesh and blood unlike yourself, Stone. I don’t want to put them at risk unnecessarily.”
“Yet you ever place yourself in danger.” His lips flattened. “You are too rash. Stone does not understand it. Not when you know Phoebus will not withhold his punishments, not even from you.”
I swallowed back the coffee that tried to come up. Stone was right. I knew. What Phoebus had done to me after Millie died was not something I would ever forget. I still bore the scars. I still suffered the loss. But I learned well the lesson he had wanted to teach me.
“Cecilia,” Stone started and I tensed wondering what he would bring up next. Stone wasn’t a talker. He spoke only when he had something important to say. “Why do you not play the guitar anymore outside of the shows we do together?”
I glanced at the case beside the bed considering carefully before answering. We had an understanding. I didn’t bullshit with him. After what he had given up for my sister and me, he didn’t deserve to be deceived. “It just makes me sad, I guess.” Music meant freedom to me. Freedom, hope, aspiration. The idea of those things had perished along with Millie. Revenge and the desire to liberate others was what motivated me now. “Like a lot of things, I don’t see the point in any of them anymore.” Unless something furthered achieving those objectives, I didn’t waste time on it.
“Music used to make you smile. You don’t smile anymore. Stone cannot remember the last time.”
I couldn’t either.
“Amelia would not wish that,” he said gravelly.
I closed my eyes. In my small circle, only he was not hesitant to utter her name. It was both a blessing and a curse.
“What’s wrong?” I opened my eyes to Fiori’s softly spoken concern. Her brows furrowed, she swept into the center of the room not in a flurry of outmoded attire like when I had first known her, but wearing the sleek silky delicate lines of Chanel haute couture. She had been to see her father. She always dressed up to please him. She was the good cop. I was the bad. I had never mastered the art of staying on the Sun King’s good side despite Leonardo’s admonitions all those years ago.
“Nothing’s wrong.” I lied. Fiori and I didn’t have the same type of relationship Stone and I did. Not because I didn’t love her. Not because she wasn’t trustworthy. She was sweet, kind and true. She believed in a better tomorrow. I hoped she would have it someday. But it was a tomorrow that we could never share. I couldn’t move past my bitterness and my anger.
“Cecilia barely eats. She never sings outside the club performances we do. She never laughs. She is more like a statue than Stone is.”
My jaw dropped open. It was uncharacteristic of him to confide in someone other than me. That he did with Fiori was borderline shocking. We commiserated. We wallowed. It was our way.
“I know,” Fiori agreed crossing to Stone and patting his grey arm as if they were conspirators. “And it’s getting worse not better.” Makeup perfect, dramatic smoky eyes, nude lipstick, her long blonde tresses in an elegant chignon that complemented a champagne blouse and pencil skirt, she hopped on the bed beside me and pinned me with a narrowed look.
“I…you…” I sputtered. What could I say? They were right. I threw up my hands and went to the dresser riffling through the drawers for something comfortable to wear.
“You say you will talk about it, what he does to you. But you never do, Cici. It’s not healthy to keep all that anger and hurt inside. I should know.”
I stilled, clothing forgotten as the pressure of a million regrets built behind my eyes. “Talking won’t change anything,” I finally managed.
“Maybe not,” Fiori said gently. “But you’ll never know that unless you try.”
Leaning against a bookshelf in Phoebus’ library, arms tensed across my chest, feigning the role of the dutiful Dark Immortal servant, I listened impatiently as Bacchus conversed politely with the proud peacock on the other side of the desk.
“I will vouch for him, no. He doan understand the ways of court. He meant no disrespect to you. He’s just ignorant.”
“I can certainly see that.” The monarch’s lips slithered into a serpent’s smile as he regarded me coolly. I wanted to rip that grin off his face with my talons. I wanted to gut him for what he had done to Cecilia, but I kept my talons retracted and stayed his execution…for the moment.
“Very well.” Phoebus drummed the desk with perfectly buffed nails. “As long as the falcon is accompanied by you, he and your other charge are welcome here. But no unauthorized visits to the La Ville Sombre. And in the future,” his desert eyes flashed orange in warning, “all protocol must be followed to the letter.”
“Agreed. Morpheus and Billy will be on their best behavior, no?” He swiveled to look at Blade and me, then winked.
“Yes, sire.” We both parroted in unison as he had instructed earlier.
“So,” Phoebus began, leaning forward, elbows on the desk, his suit sleeves pulling back to reveal a crisp blue shirt and sparkling jeweled cuff links. “Is it true what they say? Did your servant Billy really spit in old Polly’s eye?”
“Dude had it coming,” Billy muttered beside me. But his expression grew sharp. There would be no staying his hand when it came to Apollyon.
“In the future, you may let your master answer on your behalf. Even so, I agree,” Phoebus said. “He has no manners. He is uncouth and uncivilized. But then he lived in the swamp with his crazy mother for all those years until Hades finally decided to acknowledge him. I wonder…” He trailed off and leaned back in his chair, his calculating gaze dipping to Bacchus again. “How again did he come by Nyx’s talisman? You said you found it? And Blade just happened to have a talent for playing it since he is a musician?” Incredulousness dripped from his words for the story we had confabulated just this morning.
“Weh. That’s pretty much the way it happened.”
Phoebus eyes narrowed. “And these two serve you because…” Phoebus left a considerable pause. “Just because you treat them well. I find such servitude difficult to fathom when that one,” his gaze flicked to Billy, “is a rock star and the other is an infamous mercenary.”
“They are loyal to me, no.” Bacchus didn’t show any nervousness from Phoebus’ questions, but his Cajun drawl became noticeably thicker. “Let’s just say that dey owe me a debt and it’s goan to be a long while before dey are able to pay it back.”
“Ah, I’m pleased to see that you and I share a similar understanding about darks and their place.”
“I saw the error of my thinking after Nyx died.” Bacchus shrugged.
“Did you? Why then may I ask are you attempting to get the Council to vote to abolish the rule and the punishment for interracial unions?”
“It is the punishment I actually object to, not the rule per say. Gossip so often gets things wrong.” Bacchus’ eyes grew tight just a bit under the Sun God’s scrutiny. “But that is old news. As I wrote in the official paperwork, I have a more immediate concern. I need your oracle to find my daughter. But I must admit that your final solution is an intriguing concept.”
“One race to rule, one to serve.” Phoebus’ eyes glittered with the passion of his malevolent ambition. “Ah, but we’ll talk more about that after dinner. Here, my oracle has finally arrived.” Phoebus gestured toward the door. “Come in, come in, my dearest pet.” My breath caught just looking at her. She bowed her head to Phoebus and lowered her pretty grey eyes but I saw the flash of glow in
them before she complied. She played the part of the dutiful servant much more convincingly than Billy and I did. But then it had become a way of life for her, a survival mechanism.
Phoebus didn’t rise to greet her, not that I expected such from him. But Bacchus did.
“My liege,” she offered demurely stopping directly in front of him. Her two-toned hair lay loose around her shoulders, the ends still wet as if she had just emerged from the shower. Her jeans sat low on her sexy hips exposing an enticing sliver of golden skin and her top stretched tightly across her enticing breasts. She had a gloriously toned athletic body and tempting curves, but today the fire and defiance she had shown me before were nowhere in evidence. “How may I serve you?”
“Dearest, Cecilia,” Phoebus interjected. “I can think of a hundred ways.”
The flush of warm color on her cheeks disappeared. Her throat moved as she swallowed. Could no one else see how much she loathed him?
An awkward moment of silence followed, an old fashioned clock on one of the shelves could be heard ticking in the drawn out moment.
“But we can speak more of that in private, later, n’est-ce pas ? As we will also discuss the cuffs and the nightstand that you somehow ravaged in my absence. Who helped you, I wonder. Someone who could easily slice through metal and solid wood, evidently.” Phoebus’ gaze landed on me again with pointed interest on my wings. I gave nothing away. He couldn’t know about my involvement. Could he?
I watched Cecilia out of the corner of my eye. She maintained her composure but I could sense that her heartrate increased. I could see her pulse beating rapidly in her neck. I could also feel her unease through our mystic bond. Once initiated, our Fated connection would only grow stronger as time progressed.
“Come, my pet. Don’t freeze up, just because you are in trouble. I know you are not well versed in social niceties because I have kept you hidden away for so long. But that time has passed. A new era is dawning. Give our guests a proper greeting.”
“Nice to meet you, Cecilia,” Bacchus said kindly, taking her hands and squeezing both of them. She lifted her gaze as he steered her to Billy and made introductions. Billy charming as ever, despite his deteriorating condition and his constant worry about Thyme, complimented her on her outfit. Cecilia thanked him and mentioned that the princess was a big fan of his music. As Billy let go of her hand, it seemed to me that Phoebus had leaned forward over the desk, almost as if he had been trying to get a better look at the flash of skin that had briefly been revealed on my younger brother’s wrist.
When she stopped in front of me and our eyes met, I forgot Phoebus. I forgot strategies and suspicions. I forgot everything else in the world but her. That insane desire to take her in my arms and whisk her away from all of this was harder to tamp down than the desire to carve up her tormenter.
“Morpheus,” Bacchus prompted clearing his throat. I could feel Billy’s speculative gaze on me as I took her hand. The moment my skin touched hers and her fragrance washed over me, I grew hard, my length distending, imagining all the ways I wanted to make her mine. I didn’t know yet how it would play out, but I determined as I looked at her that I would do everything in my power to make that dream our reality.
“Hurry, Cici. Daddy is in one of his moods.”
“I was afraid of that.” Catonia and Evercy had kept him busy all day with orchestrated emergencies that only he could handle so I could concentrate on working out the logistics of our concert and getting Landon out of prison. But those efforts had put me behind schedule for tonight’s dinner. “Help me fasten the back would you?” I shifted and scrunched down so the diminutive princess could reach the hook and eye closure at the back of my gown.
“There. Got it,” she said after a moment. “Turn back around. I want to see how you look.”
I told myself that I didn’t really care, that it didn’t matter how I looked. But then I remembered the way I had felt when Morpheus’ gaze had rested upon me earlier in the library. So hot. So consuming. His touch as he had held my hand overly long had been so exhilarating.
Phoebus had noted our exchange, and he hadn’t liked it, not one bit. Everyone in our wing of the castle had heard him voicing his displeasure, bemoaning Morpheus’ appalling lack of manners and his unacceptable arrogance.
Morpheus was arrogant. Por supuesto, I agreed with that assessment. However, hadn’t he earned a right to be?
I had gathered every tidbit of information I could about him. His prowess in combat. His speed in the air. His intelligence. How he knew several languages, even the Creator’s.
He was highly sought after as a mercenary.
Respected.
And he was a distraction that sorely tempted me but one I couldn’t afford.
I needed to find his friend for him so he would move along. I had picked up the poetry tome that had been sent to my room several times but though I tried, my abilities to locate her were completely shut down as of yet.
“Oh, Cici. You look incredible. That white lace with your coloring and the romantic cut with those curves…you’re stunning.”
“Gracias, Fi. I don’t know why we have to get so dressed up tonight,” I mumbled as I slipped on a pair of strappy spiked sandals covered in clear crystal beads. They reminded me of the way his wings sparkled. “But you look truly gorgeous.”
She spun around in a circle as if my simple compliment had made her feel as light as air. Her top fell off the shoulders and her skirt was full, the opposite of my fitted gown that hugged my curves, but it was perfect for her. She looked like a fifties starlet.
“Fiori!” Red in the face from exertion, Giles bent over and put his hands on his knees to catch his breath as he entered my room. “Your…father…is…”
“I know. He is adamant that I not dally,” she mimicked his pompous manner almost perfectly.
“Show him proper respect, Fiori. He is the one and only Sun King.”
“Please, spare me the rhetoric,” she talked tough but she twisted the white bandage around on her wrist and grimaced. The cuts from Giles’ blade were always slow to heal as I knew full well.
“We’re coming. Aren’t we Stone?” Stone moved out from the corner of the room. I could feel the reassuring force of his presence behind me.
“Very well.” Giles balked and backed out of the room. “I shall advise the monarch that you are on your way shortly.”
With Stone as our escort, we left the royal quarters behind, descending the grand staircase with our fingers hooked around his marble arms as if he were accompanying us to a formal dance. We entered the dining room, and chairs squeaked across the parquet floor as the dinner guests pushed back from their positions around the long mahogany table. Blade flashed a quick smile though it didn’t reach his eyes. Those were filled with a burden that appeared so heavy I wondered how his knees didn’t buckle beneath the weight of it. Bacchus dipped his chin politely. Phoebus’ eyes glittered dangerously over the rim of the crystal flute he lifted to his lips. But it was Morpheus who drew and held my eyes in the wing modified tuxedo that must have been conjured for him just for the occasion. The white shirt made his iridescent eyes even more mesmerizing than usual and the way the cut of the black wool clung to his wide shoulders, narrow hips and strong legs made me feel more flushed than could be explained by the heat of the dozen flickering candelabras in the room.
“Cecilia,” he said tacking on something additional under his breath that sounded like an endearment, but I couldn’t make it out. “You…are…you look like an angel.”
“Thank you,” I said somehow finding my voice thinking he looked more like one of the Ancients before their fall than I. Scooting sideways to get past him and the heavily laden buffet, I took my place at the other end of the table beside Phoebus. I took my napkin from my plate and settled it over my lap surprised by how breathy I felt just because of Morpheus’ presence and his heated perusal.
The attraction I felt toward him was inexplicable.
Inadvisable i
n every way.
Even if it were real, even if I had opportunity to act upon it, he would be gone soon.
And I would remain.
It would be utter and complete folly to do anything but ignore him.
“You’re not eating your dessert, my pet.” Phoebus stroked her arm with his foul fingers. Chill bumps I could see erupted on her skin.
“I’m not hungry, my liege.”
“You used to love sweets.”
“Arroz con dulce, bizcocho de ron, budin de pan. Puerto Rican desserts, Daddy. And café con leche. Those are Cecilia’s favorites. They are not as sweet. Not as rich as the French custards and creams Chef prepares.” Phoebus’ daughter Fiori was an enigma. Her manner leant a lightness to an otherwise charged gathering.
I greedily gulped down that information as if it were one of the confections the princess had mentioned. Cecilia was from Puerto Rico, a lush verdant island paradise. “You must miss it,” I told her my heart twisting for her. “Every Puertorriqueño I have met speaks only highly of your homeland.”
“Sí.” She lifted her gaze and looked at me for the first time since she had taken her seat at the table. Her regard felt like a physical touch. My pulse thundered. My flesh heated. Her eyes glowed softly and my passion ebbed when I saw behind them the ache within her for her home. “Yes, I miss it. Who would not? The roar of the ocean. The coqui cry of the tree frog at night. The gentle tropical breeze.”
“Cici,” Fiori whispered as if her heart ached, too. Her gaze darted to Phoebus who was watching his oracle with rapt attention. I got the idea that Cecilia rarely shared anything of a personal nature around him.
Cecilia’s pretty features hardened. “I miss a great deal of things as all do who wear this cursed collar.” She tugged at the dark circle around her neck. “My home. My family. The world outside these confining walls.”
Dream Magic Page 27
