CHAPTER 22:
The glint in ice blue is like tipping an iceberg over and seeing the years of depth underneath. It's never simplistic, it's never easily movable. In fat, the sheer rise of a twitch of icy lips raises before he clicks his finger to the beat of the music. At first, I thought that was all it was.
In the strips of air, the waves that were microscopically seen—visualised in the tiniest of particles was magic swimming and sifting through space and time. I felt it's cold fingers brush along my surface and crinkle my dress—feel the world that was mine. I narrow my eyes and run them towards my crew, Athena frowned, looked sideways next to Nicolai, who was occupied with Robert and two alphas I knew but never cared to detail the names of. Torrence and another, I believe.
The cold's depth moved around and fluttered like strange butterflies around me.
I meet the ember eyes I needed across the room.
His impenetrable and tall form, brooding and so concentrated. His determined steps move, before a pair of bodies lean in. They stop his advance, Hayden moves closest to me and blocks the sight of Alastair making headway on whatever advances he planned when he recognised something in me, "Walk." Hayden whispers in seething teeth. He took the brunt of something I wasn't feeling.
"Where are you headed, rider?" A slither of ice rumbles in front of me, with blue eyes on Hayden, who moves in front of me and forward, making the impenetrable feeling—ancient and powerful stick sharp, welcoming knives in my back. Trying to tickle.
I squirm uncomfortably and shiver. Goosebumps and something else ruffles through me. I felt hungry and empty and full and happy...all at once, "What is happening?" I wisp out, it was difficult to breathe, like something was tightening—a noose around me. But not around my neck.
"Get to Theorin. West corner." Hayden orders, I move behind a group of wolves and feel them ruffle while eyes followed me before suddenly, groups part and something cracks.
Dropping with a small clank was something I didn't realise could be destroyed.
That's what was happening.
I tense as I feel for the ring that was supposed to be on my finger. It was there, laid down on the marble floor.
I quickly drop down, grab it, pull it on and twist it before anyone could see, before anyone was looking. The flavour of DNA and the combination, "Little rat, aren't you?" I hear a deep voice, recognisable. What used to be harsh and coloured dark with shades of cold ice blue, was a calm, almost fascinated remedy to the mind, brain, thought. Like he brushed the heated surface.
"Excuse me?" I question in the voice used for the body.
Alastair's face was different, but the eyes...all in the eyes, "You lie as much as you breathe. Rat." He says, brushing a hand between us and not waiting for me to breathe before grasping my hand in his almost vampiric cold one. I grit my teeth as he tilts his head when a face I did not think would intervene stops the king. Creed's greedy ember eyes smirks, his lips don't after he removed his ring. Out in the open.
Alastair narrows those blue eyes, "Legion, what are you doing here?" Alastair did not expect this.
Creed tilts his head at him, "Remove your hand, or I'll invoke protocol."
"Yes, the high king's soldiers love predictability." Alastair mutters, his grip on me loosens.
"I said. Remove your fucking hand." Creed seethes the demand, it makes Alastair's hand hold, but the grip is soft—reading. I freeze before twisting his arm and hitting the spine, I press the exact pressure point that might work in distracting Alastair. A warning flared like a dark thunderous cloud over us, before Alastair chuckles. He lets go and trails his eyes to mine. Creed steps forward as Alastair does and looks at me with newfound wonder.
"You've been adapting to the wildflower touch, haven't you? I feel a different power thrumming..." He trails off when Creed grabs his shoulder and stops him. Ember eyes give me an order before I'm turning and moving in the direction where Hayden stood after he disposed of his follower. I was so close to reaching him when a slender hand of werewolf heat grabbed my fingers and stilling, Reina stands there with a look of interest.
"Who might you be?" She questions me.
"Who are you?" I bite back, looking pointedly at my hand.
Reina narrows those eyes at me before letting go, straightening her shoulders, "Beta Reina to King Nicolai Darkling. You must be an invited guest of another, otherwise you would never have been able to meet the great King." She mutters, grasping a glass of champagne and taking a soft sip.
I raise an eyebrow, "Great King—his current actions bestow something of a different meaning to that title." I contradict.
She rolls her eyes, "As most whisper in such a gloomy morning. The deaths of those he has overcome were necessary. Not consumed by past endeavours."
"You mean the death of Celestine Colton?" I heard that whisper too, so voicing it to her confidently was attracting attention, even from Nicolai himself who heard me, he excused himself from Robert. Reina glances over at her Alpha's stride.
"That name is not so easily spoken here. Did you know the girl?" Reina questions, I see eyes move closer to us, the conversation growing louder even at the normal volume. Ears perked at the name, peaked at the connection to the behaviour Nicolai has shown and now as he moves closer subtly, but what he doesn't do is a approach us head on when Robert stepped up to him, asked him to wait with a look alone.
"The stories tell her life as it's exposure presumes the actions of King Nicolai's motives to his killings. Could I get your input on said actions? Do you believe Celestine's unexpected death is associated?" I ask her, peaching the question, sitting it in the air between us that was once chilly, is now consumed with sun-infested heat.
Her expression transforms, colours a clear pattern...exposed.
"Her name is not to be spoken as lightly as you use it. King Nicolai's mate killed herself because she was depressed, it is not Nicolai's fault in it. He had only ever loved her." She says smoothly, as if she herself believed it to be true.
"He refused her public rejection amongst the old council members to which clans in this room aided in killing for the so-called greater good. Do you believe the world is turning over with this new dictatorship rising, Ms Reina?" I wonder, overhearing Creed's movements as he follows Alastair when more fighters of Alastair's make themselves known...subtly.
Reina frowns, "Dictatorship? Council members across the globe understands King Nicolai's actions. He rules all of the highest and most enriched of lands, people, currency. He should be seen as a saviour." She argues.
I scoff, "A saviour of what? War? Preserving it—maintaining collateral damage and filtering out those who stand in his way?" I question.
She purses her lips, a hand clamps her shoulders, "Ladies, might we take this elsewhere?" One of Nicolai's enforcer's steps in, he removes his hand from Reina's shoulder when she gives him a death glare. Scourging steps move to their seats before it's only a few people standing, the enforcer guides Reina towards a seat when I'm gestured for another as Nicolai moves to the stage after looking back to Reina with a look that promises more questioning.
I sit down and narrow my eyes when he taps the microphone and welcomes each and every clan, government official and other species present this evening. The room did show a peak in spell-binders. People I believed were just witches once upon a time, but they held a different type of magic. And the ability to insert it into objects.
"...the lines between societies today have been crossed and now must be examined, the reason being because our world is at a stage of ruins, we must reunite together as one. The meaning behind the blood I know drops from my fingers is an important, vital measure to start anew..." What. An. Idiot.
He couldn't get more delusional if he tried...he—however, could get far more violent. He begins introducing more rules, regulations and currencies—as he called it, to the people watching, listening...attracted and alluded to his filth as if he were his own special siren. He even believed his own bullshit, it takes a special kind of sack of dicks to do that and he has that sack covered.
I glance over to where Theorin is seated, I look around—where was Creed?
Theorin notices where my eyes asked what my mouth couldn't and he points to the floor.
I raise a brow, between realms? With Alastair or did Creed lose him? I didn't have the answers and right now, the dire need to set fire to a sack of meaningless dicks was almost overpowering. Claps and cheers, hollers and whistles penetrated the atmosphere in a global, and thoroughly annoyingly agreeable manner, they loved and hated him. Hated to love him—some of them.
Athena watched him with studious eyes, astute when she trails her eyes around the room, the grand hall was vast. A hand tapped my shoulder. I grasp the note from the servant, it asks that I seat myself at the Royal's table. I felt bare stone-like air brush like paint against a black and white canvas that was allergic to all other colour. No glints, no power...just two shades that lacked anything even remotely capable of welcoming red or yellow or orange...which is all I was feeling in the moment I took a slow seat opposite Athena.
She runs her eyes over me, seemingly bored as she looks around while Vulcan narrows his eyes at Robert, his own father, who looks at Lia and nudges a head tilt in my direction. A body sits down next to me with a clouded aura. Nicolai takes a sip of his drink, "Anita, was it?" He smoothly asks, no flavour or colour in his voice as sad piano music plays—illuminated on the stage too.
I merely nod.
"What do you know of my mate?" He immediately delves into.
Athena snaps her eyes straight back to me, she sees the ring and her eyes widen.
"Your mate?" I ask, "Your majesty—I know of rumours. My story is to portray the truth to the public." I tell him, ignoring her look of 'I'm the biggest idiot in all the realms' that she was trying to drill into me right now.
"Yes, what do you know about her?" His silver eyes stare at me.
I stare at them.
Before knowing that was a fuck-up, considering the Alpha in him would have demanded obedience and not to look him dead in the eye. He trails his eyes to my fingers, "Answer my question." He orders.
"Lovely wine, brother. Where'd you get it?" Athena immediately interrupts.
I move my chair back, "I must powder my nose."
"Americans don't normally use that terminology." Robert says, eyes on me.
Athena clears her throat, "Robert, what an odd thing to say to a woman. Especially one who could paint you a hero or a villain in this life and the next. Printed is permanent after all." She shrugs a glass in the air while two enforcers gesture and block me in the seat, stopping me from leaving.
"Your mate must be an alpha, is he here?" Nicolai asks me.
"He is." I mutter.
"Where? Point him out to me. Or better yet, show me your invitation to this event. One I sent out."
Suspicious is the snake with fangs which have run out of poison. I pull out a slip I'd made and hand it to him. He frowns and looks at the invitation, he smells it and looks up to Athena, "Your scent is on this, Athena, you invited this woman?" He demands an answer.
Athena narrows her eyes at him, "Does that matter? Good publicity with the right story is better than a crazy maniac who lost everything." She makes him chew on that as he hands me back the card, I'm careful not to touch any inch of his skin. He cuts into the barely cooked meat on his plate.
"A controlled story. Why are you meddling, sister?" He asks her, thankfully occupied.
I almost feel that relief. Sink and stick to bone but it doesn't. I'm more alert than a rat surrounded by dozens of traps with indescribably delicious smelling cheese that I know would be the death of me if one wrong step, one wrong decision is made and scored dangerously.
"To control the tale you are cracking to pieces because of some ex." She waves him off.
He astutely narrows dark eyes with stormy ruins in them, "An ex—you think that is all she was?"
I lean in, "Well, you did force her in public to do things other men in clans wouldn't. If I may ask, your majesty, was Miss Colton's refutable in ways that can't be tamed? Or secured?" I survey his expression.
He studies his sister and ignores me, "Athena." He portrays.
She blinks at him, "What? Was she more?"
"Of course she was. Why is that even in question?" He gestures between them.
I give my chicken a look of disbelief. Reina studies me, not the man I wanted to kill next to me, "Something the matter?" She asks me.
"The chicken smells different." I shrug, taking a subtle bite.
She rolls her eyes and straightens Lia again.
Robert cuts into his meat, "Perhaps Athena still doesn't know the full story between you and the woman he loved."
"Loved?" I ask.
Eyes snap to me. "I mean, I could detail a chapter to the romantic side of the king?" I inwardly gag on this one.
Athena blinks at me, "Romantic side? What streak could that categorise in? The wanton lie or the choking truth?" She asks me, leaning her elbows on the table.
I blink at her, "Ah...that's interesting."
"It isn't, you are forbidden to use those words." Robert interrupts and raises a palm to me in a 'don't' gesture.
I almost send a wave of boiling, killer heat waves against him just for him to smell of fear, even if for a second.
I swallow when I look back and see a shutter of cold air brush like Christmas snow south of the table, Alastair in his singer cover with his own spell-bound to him somehow, the ring I believe. Or rather I'm certain of that he has in his clutches.
He walks closer, "Your majesty, an honour." He bows.
Fuck you, Alastair.
Fuck. You.