House of Gods, page 12
“Well, no …”
“Then, I’m going to enter.”
“My father will never approve that.”
Kerrigan chewed on her lip. That was the rub, wasn’t it? Constantine didn’t even believe that women should fight. Let alone enter the tournament. He wasn’t going to want his pretty investment to enter with the possibility that she might die.
She shrugged. “I’ll figure it out. I have to enter.”
“To get home?” Danae intuited.
Kerrigan sighed. “Yes. My people are my first priority. I was sent here to get help.” She opened her mouth to tell Danae about her mother, but the thought withered in her mind. She couldn’t explain her parentage without opening up a whole can of worms. “This is the easiest way to get the help I need.”
Danae cut her a sharp look. “You’ll have a mighty time convincing my father. He’s not going to do it willingly.”
“I know.”
A knock sounded at the door, and then the older Andine woman, Agnes, entered the room. “I was told to prepare you for the festivities this evening.”
Kerrigan glanced at Danae in confusion. “What festivities?”
“The week before the tournament, there’s always hundreds of parties,” Danae said.
“The general was invited to about a dozen over the course of the week,” Agnes said.
“Is that normal?”
Danae shook her head. “He never gets invited. But he’s never had a gladiator in the main tournament before either.”
“So … this might have nothing to do with me?”
Danae looked dubious. Kerrigan felt similarly.
Still, she let Agnes do her job. Danae had pointed out public bathhouses along the roadside yesterday. But Constantine had refused to let her go for this event. And since the house wasn’t equipped with a private hot spring like in Eivreen, heated water was brought in from the kitchen for Kerrigan’s bath. Agnes worked a miracle with her natural curls, piling most of it on the top of her head and leaving the rest of the tendrils flowing. She’d scoffed at a similar style when Flavia made her wear it, but she’d seen enough Domaran people to understand it was very in fashion. She applied cosmetics, highlighting her Domaran features and leaving her skin as porcelain pale and freckled as ever. Her Fae-touched ears were revealed for dramatic effect.
After she was finished, another woman entered with a dozen dresses, all in various shades of white, wrapping Kerrigan in the latest fashions. They were a little more sheer, a little more revealing, and draped to accentuate her natural figure. The woman said next to nothing, even when prompted, and left when Kerrigan was dressed in an eggshell dress with gold thread embroidered around the edges and emeralds to match her eyes at her ears and throat. The slippers were plush heeled sandals. The whole thing was miraculous to behold. Her designer, Parris, back in Alandria would probably die to get his hands on the material in this one dress. Let alone the other eleven waiting in a box for other events.
A throat cleared at the doorway. Kerrigan looked up to see Constantine dressed as formally as she was. Forgoing the traditional white toga for a dark blue one with a hem of the deepest onyx. It was striking against his tan skin and dark features.
“You look lovely,” he said quietly.
“Is that Andine attire?” she asked, ignoring his compliment.
“No. Domaran but tailored to my house colors.”
“I’m sure they’ll love that.”
He shrugged. “Mostly only senators and Doma wear all white. And even then, the senators are always threaded with purple.”
She plucked her gown. “Are Doma threaded with gold?”
“Indeed.”
She appreciated the audacity.
“Here,” he said, offering her a bundle.
“What’s this?”
“The nights can get cold.” He almost looked nervous to hand it over.
She took it in her hands and saw that it was a shawl in the same dark blue color of Constantine’s house. It had been immaculately embroidered with love and care. There was no way that someone had created this in haste for this evening.
“It’s beautiful,” she acknowledged.
“It was my wife’s.” He cleared his throat and looked away as she drew it around her shoulders, as if he could barely bear looking at her in it.
She didn’t know what to say. Constantine was as infuriating as he was sincere. He must have made a good king.
He gestured for her to follow him out of the house. A group of his men had saddled an open-air carriage to a team of horses. One helped her inside, and Constantine took the seat next to her. Two men rode up front, and a pair were mounted behind them. An escort to show wealth and keep back any that might attack their carriage.
The drive to the party was short, but Kerrigan could tell that she’d been wrong about Constantine’s home. He lived in a wealthy area. But there was a difference between wealth and this.
Back in Alandria, the Row was a section of the city of Kinkadia where all the old-money wealth lived. They’d had homes there for thousands of years, and the mansions were so large that if they opened their doors to the commoners, there would be no housing crisis. In fact, those with wealth who couldn’t get space on the Row had moved to the Riverfront. And people made fun of their mansion homes because they weren’t Row quality.
This was the same thing.
These were generational estates, to which there was no rival.
Even Kerrigan, who had grown up a princess and been raised inside a mountain, was impressed by the colossal, columned structures.
Constantine sucked his teeth as they approached the wide square structure. “This should be interesting.”
“Danae said that you’re not normally invited.”
“No,” he said begrudgingly.
“Is it because of Myron? Or me?”
He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure.”
“But you don’t like it?”
“No,” he agreed. “No, I don’t.”
“Well, at least we’re on the same page. And hey, maybe those dance lessons will come in handy.”
He jerked his attention back to her. Once he realized she was being sarcastic, he grumbled something under his breath and then faced forward again.
She let a small smile cross her face. So, tonight was going to be awful. Constantine had no idea why he had been invited. He was entering his enemy’s house without a weapon or knowledge of why there was a ceasefire. She couldn’t imagine a good reason for being here or a good reason for him to decline.
The carriage stopped in front of the mansion, and one of his soldiers assisted her down. Kerrigan noted the other noblewomen each placing their hand on top of their escort’s hand. So, when Constantine stepped down next to her, she did it naturally. He kept his face steadfastly forward.
Whispers trailed behind them as they moved into the crowd. She was sure it was shocking to see a Doma on the arm of an Andine soldier. Whether or not that was reality.
A man at the door was taking the crisp vellum invitations. No announcements of their identity, like back home, and then they were inside. If she had thought Constantine’s sitting room was ostentatious, it had nothing on this house. The entire ceiling was painted with an elaborate battle scene. The floor was black-and-white marble with beautiful pink inlaid marble columns lining the room. It was perfumed with the scent of flowers. A fountain of sparkling wine flowed into glasses at the center of the room. And magical little butterflies cascaded through the crowd.
She’d seen elaborate, and this took the cake.
Kerrigan and Constantine accepted drinks. Many stopped to bow to Kerrigan, and she did nothing to change their minds. She didn’t think it smart to pretend to be a Doma, but she wasn’t going to correct anyone either.
The interior of the home was an enormous square garden with a pool at the center. Sheer white drapes hung from every opening, and people lounged on the benches. While half-naked gladiators stood at attention in every corner.
They’d just made it across the garden and into a ballroom, practically as long as the arena was wide, when a voice called behind them, “You made it!”
Kerrigan froze. “Oh,” she whispered.
So, that was the reason they’d been invited.
They turned as one to find Tarcus Valerii standing with his arms wide. He wore the white toga style with purple embroidery that revealed him as a senator. A dark-haired woman in her early twenties with a pinched expression on her face was at his side. She wore the same style dress as Kerrigan but with the matching purple thread that showed she must be a senator’s wife. The infamous wife he’d had to consult with.
“Tarcus,” Constantine said, somehow managing to mask the fury under the name.
“I wasn’t sure you’d get my invitation in time,” Tarcus said. His eyes swept to Kerrigan. “Or provide proper attire. But I was wrong, of course.” He took Kerrigan’s hand in his and kissed it. “You look lovely, my dear.”
She arched an eyebrow as disgust slithered down her spine. “I’m surprised to see you again so soon.”
“And whyever would you say that?”
“After suffering defeat, the losers usually slink back to their hidey-hole,” she said stiffly.
Tarcus’s cheeks flared crimson for a second before recovering. “Allow me to introduce you to my charming wife. Come here, Lavinia.”
Lavinia stepped forward with grace. She dipped her chin at Kerrigan. “Pleasure.”
“This is the pet I was talking about,” he said, reaching for Kerrigan’s chin and tilting her head at a particular angle. “You find her pleasing as well?”
Lavinia nodded. “As you say.”
Kerrigan jerked her head out of his grasp. “I am not here as a pet.”
Constantine cleared his throat. “I’ve made myself clear, Tarcus. You will not be part of her bidding.”
Tarcus waved it away as if he hadn’t heard. “There will be no bidding. I’ve already spoken to everyone who matters. They’ve agreed to let the matter be handled by me. And see, I am showing you exactly how generous I can be. All of this is part of my offer.” His teeth gleamed white in the candlelight as he swept his hand out. “So, don’t be hasty in your decision. Enjoy the evening. We can discuss terms before I leave.”
Tarcus grinned at them both and then took Lavinia in his arm and headed into the crowd.
Constantine had steam coming out of his ears. Tarcus had outmaneuvered him. He had the status to pull this off. They just had to figure out if it was true.
“Leave him,” she said. “We don’t know if he’s even telling the truth. He wants to goad you. Don’t let him.”
“Fine,” he growled, downing his drink. “Shall we dance?”
She took a sip of her own drink and then finished it. It was delicious. Fruity and flavorful. Tarcus might be trying to spoil the evening, but Kerrigan refused to let him.
“Yes. Let’s dance.”
They entered the ballroom halfway through a dance that she had never seen before. She picked up the steps easily. When it was their turn, Constantine pulled her onto the floor. Her steps were clumsy for the first pass, but soon, she had the hang of the unfamiliar steps and moved in time with him. At least for a minute, she could forget what lay behind her, what lay ahead of her, and the steep hill she had to climb to get there. She could just let the music take her away.
In fact, she was so immersed in the dance that she didn’t realize that so many had cleared out at her performance. The dance floor had become sparse as others watched a Doma perform their dance to perfect execution. It wasn’t until she stopped, sticky and breathing hard, that she saw they were utterly alone. She turned in a surprised circle as everyone applauded her performance.
But there was a single figure who stepped forward. His face was a mask of shock. Hard features like chiseled marble. Cheekbones that were cut from ice. Thundercloud eyes that looked right through her. And all-black attire that made her heart skip as the rest of the world crashed down around her.
She took one step toward him, all sense fleeing her mind.
“Fordham?”
16
The Fae
Her heart bottomed out in her feet, tears welled in her eyes, and she reached forward, as if she could draw him to her. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.
He was here. Fordham was here.
In Carithian.
She had given up hope on finding him. He could have fallen through a portal anywhere in all of Domara. They could have ended up on opposite sides of the country. She hadn’t even been able to bring herself to reach for him across their mating bond.
The reality of it snapping in half when her magic had drained away still made her physically nauseous. She could hardly even think of it. It was gone. A bond that she hadn’t even known meant the world to her until it settled over them that fateful day in their townhouse in the Artisan Village. Back when he had said he was going to court her properly. That he was going to make it all right.
And it had all fallen apart.
“Fordham,” she repeated in awe.
He stepped forward. Real. He was real. “Kerrigan.”
Her body shuddered at the sound of his voice. The way he wrapped it around her name. The rest of the party dropped off around them. It didn’t matter that she was currently enslaved to Constantine and had no free will over her own actions. She didn’t have her magic. She didn’t have anything. But Fordham was here. And the rest of the world would right itself around her.
They moved toward each other, an invisible string tugging them together. They were within arm’s reach when she nearly broke down. She had been running on nothing but adrenaline and hope these weeks without him. She wanted to collapse into his arms and put all the hurt behind her.
“You’re here,” she whispered. She swiped at a tear that had formed in the corner of her eye. “You’re really here.”
“I’m here.”
“I didn’t know where you were or what had happened with the portal. I’d thought we’d fall through together. And you were injured.” She gasped and examined him closely. “You were stabbed.”
“I’m okay.” His hand came to hers, and every nerve in her body came alive at the sensation. “A healer tended to me.”
“Who? How?” She had so many questions. Too many for the crowded dance floor. Too many for all the eyes and ears on them currently.
“It’s a long story,” he said, exhaling roughly through his nose. His eyes hadn’t left her, but for a moment, irritation flashed through his mercurial irises. “I don’t know how much time we have.”
But time didn’t matter anymore.
Fordham still had his magic. Fordham had dark shadow magic. He could jump between destinations. It didn’t work for incredible distances, especially if he was trying to move more than himself. Still, he could get them out of this party and away from Constantine. They could find her mother and end all of this. She didn’t have to play into this charade any longer.
Her grip tightened on his arm. “Jump us out of here.”
His face clouded over. That irritation was replaced by … panic. A look she had never seen on his face. Fordham was strength above all else. Even when he’d had to play a horrible part with his father within the halls of the House of Shadows, a part that he’d despised, he’d still done it with the same calm fury.
“Fordham?” she whispered.
He removed his hand from her arm. “You should go.”
“Go?”
“I don’t want her to see you.”
“Her? Who?”
He shook his head. “There’s so much I can’t say.”
Finally, his eyes left hers. As if he couldn’t bear to look into her face again. He swept the room with a calculated motion that she’d seen him use a hundred times. The look of a warrior who had seen battle for years longer than she had been alive. He was assessing threats to her person. But who would dare threaten someone who looked like a Doma in this room?
“Felicity,” a voice said behind her.
Kerrigan stiffened, and Fordham mirrored the position. She’d forgotten for a second that she’d been dancing with Constantine. That he’d been at her back this whole time. How much had he heard? Did he understand what he was seeing between them?
She didn’t want to turn around. She didn’t want to see her Andine jailer for another moment. Not when Fordham was right here. Not when he should have already grabbed her around the waist and jumped them out of this party. Out of all of Carithian, if it came to that.
Except Fordham did none of those things. He just stared at Constantine with barely suppressed rage. A fight brewing by looks alone.
So, she took a breath and slowly turned to face Constantine once more. “Yes?”
“Are you going to introduce me to your … friend?”
She didn’t want that at all. Not even a little bit.
When she said nothing, Constantine’s jaw tightened in irritation. “I wasn’t aware that you knew anyone in Carithian.”
“Neither did I.”
Constantine took another step forward. “I haven’t seen a full-blooded Fae around these parts in some years.” He held a hand out. Fordham stared down at the hand, as if expecting the worst. “Our people were once united during the war. I am General Constantine Pallas of Leon.”
At the sound of his name though, Fordham’s gaze jumped to the general. “Your name rings true among my people.”
Constantine bowed his head once. “The genocide of your forefathers was a true tragedy. I only did what I could to make sure it wasn’t complete.”
Fordham nodded, his throat bobbing. “They speak kindly of you. Those who remain.”
“I’m pleased to hear it.”
Kerrigan glanced between them. She didn’t know what was happening. She and Fordham had only been here a matter of weeks. She had barely learned the history of the people. How had Fordham made it seem like he had ancestors who had fought in the war?
“What happened to the Fae?” Kerrigan asked.
Something extinguished in Fordham’s eyes at the question.
