Today's Reading
CHAPTER 1
ARIELLE
Arielle didn't feel like a monster.
The floor-length mirror before her told one story—a girl wrapped in a dress of midnight velvet, Aslir's silver fang gathered in the hollow of her throat and the weight of a noble house behind her—but her eyes told another. When she gazed into them, she saw fear, and she hated herself for it.
She pressed her fingertips into the skin of her arm, her belly, her throat, seeking some sign of the creature that lurked underneath, but whatever the Heretic inside her was, spirit or beast or phantom, there was no line between where she ended and it began.
'I won't let you make me afraid', she told the Heretic. It had been quiet following her encounter with Rezek Kelbra at the closing Illinir ball. Ever since Ari had realized that the century-old enchanter's spirit wasn't possessing her Saba's spellbook, but 'her'. It'd been a week since that night, and the secret of Rezek's offer weighed on her more each day.
'I can give you answers', he'd promised, his eyes the white of fresh snow from the magic coursing through him. But she knew better than to trust Rezek, and Damien would never forgive her for accepting the help of his greatest enemy. So she'd run.
Still, it gnawed at her that the knowledge she sought was just out of reach. "Arielle?" Damien's voice slid over her like a warm cloak, and she let herself be enveloped by it, by him as he appeared behind her in the mirror, his arms enfolding her in a steady embrace. His bedroom was a shadowed alcove at his back, the curtains drawn against the approaching dusk, but the enchanted lights illuminated the newfound heaviness in his gray eyes.
His lips brushed her cheek. "You look formidable."
She did. Her hair had been woven into a braided crown, loose curls spiraling around her face. Kohl encircled her eyes, making the brown bright and deep. She wore a black dress embroidered in white and silver thread, the mirror image of his charcoal waistcoat and black satin-lined jacket. His hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place to betray the turmoil beneath his steely exterior.
Ari turned inside the circle of his arms, her hands sliding past the Lonlarra revolvers holstered at his ribs before her fingers locked in the small of his back. "I only wish it were for another purpose."
Damien let out a quiet breath. He'd barely spoken of his father's death since the news arrived only days after his Ascension to the head of House Adair. Galan Adair had passed quietly in his sleep with the knowledge his family's future was secure, and Damien had spent every night since in his chair by the fire with a glass of whiskey, staring out into the dark.
He tucked a curl behind her ear with careful fingers. "I'm just glad you're here with me," he said at last. "The wolves will be circling."
"It's your father's funeral. Would they really be so crass?"
"Of course. They expect to find me at my weakest, and they'd never let an opportunity like that pass."
Ari's fingers tightened into knots. Damien ought to be mourning his father, not playing Enderlain's twisted games. But by winning the Illinir, he'd been granted a royal boon, requesting that the Adairs be made one of the four great houses in place of the Kelbras. Tonight's funeral and subsequent wake would be his first test as head of House Adair. There would be those seeking his alliance, and those plotting his downfall, all of them eager for a piece of him.
Together, Ari and Damien would face them all, and begin forging the new House Adair.
Ari placed a kiss against Damien's lips. It was soft and tender, but she felt him stir. Felt his fingers curl against her hips and the heat building in her core. His presence centered her like nothing else, the way he looked at her as if the world fell away.
"This," said a disgruntled voice from the doorway, "is getting to become a habit."
Damien's lips turned to a faint smile against hers as he pulled away. Reid stood with his arms folded, the disheveled counterpoint to Damien's polished exterior. His black hair resembled a crow's nest, his shirt untucked without vest or jacket, and his sleeves rolled up to bare the twisting lines of his tattoos.
Without Mikira around, he'd given up all pretense of making an effort. Ari wished he wouldn't. Seeing him like this only reminded her of her friend's absence all the more, and she already felt it like a missing limb. They hadn't seen Mikira since the closing ball, when Damien had learned she'd kept something from him. Evidence that tied him to a crime. Evidence that could have ruined him.
Yet another thing they hadn't spoken about, but Ari knew now was not the time.
"Everything's ready," Reid said. "They're waiting on you to begin."
Ari laced her fingers with Damien's, his grip tightening in return. He needed her, and Ari would be right there by his side. Reid trailed behind them as they stepped into the rapidly cooling night, tracing the manor's open-aired corridor before emerging into the outer grounds.
...
