𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.
It's the beginning of a new age when Jaylah Imperatrix seemingly returns from the dead to reclaim her throne. And in perfect timing.
In her absence, evil has be...
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Act 3 Chapter 126 JAYLAH
Jaylah's heart was heavy as she watched the sea of women twirl to the upbeat tune. They were all smiling, all pink-cheeked and exhilarated. Balls in Oceana were very rare; the last one had been before the assassination attempt. That night, Jaylah had felt trapped yet still held hope for the future. Now she only felt trapped.
She did find some joy in the stares her dress was garnering. It was a bright crimson to match her painted lips, rich against the brown of her skin. The sleeves were made of the same gauzy, airy material, but billowed at the arms until they were cinched by the fabric wound at her wrists. They made her arms appear slender and willowy, as the double slits did for her legs. Because of the heat, Oceanic people tended to wear less clothing than the average woman up north, and it showed on the Navrikans' scandalized faces. They believed she could not be a self-respecting woman in power while associating herself with anything sexual—which was odd, because all she had to do to be considered sexual was to own a body.
Needless to say, she enjoyed letting them stew in their combination of lust and dislike.
However, she felt nauseated when she imagined that sentiment applied to Adrik. She had danced for a few minutes with him, and he was always a gentleman. It was not enough. Everything reminded her of the wedding, of the things they would inevitably have to do after. The idea of rising from a bed with him made her ribcage shrink on all her organs. He did not disgust or repel her; it was just that every glimpse of him brought her back to the imminent future she had always feared.
She did not know where he was. Dancing with one of the older women who had begged him for a single round, perhaps. He had, of course, asked Jaylah for approval. She did not care. Frankly, after their last conversation, she was simply glad he seemed to be afraid of her now.
The song went on for a few more boisterous moments, then closed on one last stroke of the violin. Jaylah caught a glimpse of Adrik's pale face in the crowd. Her heart lurched. He was making his way to her. She began to spin a way out; she did not want to dance again.
"Are you enjoying the celebration?" he asked when he reached the place where she stood above everyone else. "It is in your honor, after all."
"Our honor." The words were sour on her tongue.
"Well. I do believe a thousand different women have come up to me just to ask who fashioned your dress. You are the talk of the evening, not me."
"You will have the spotlight for a bit, because I am going to step out for a moment. It is much too stuffy in here."
"Be quick, my love," he said, having noticed the adoring women gathering at the bottom of the steps. "I wish to have at least one more dance with you before the night is over."
Before stepping into the side room, she smiled at him. Her cheeks felt like wax, perfectly molded into what it ought to be. The second the door was locked behind her, it fell. She pressed her palms into the tall decorative table behind the chaise, taking deep breaths. The sweet smell of the potted hibiscus near her face helped bring her to her senses.
