Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“I have the pleasure to announce to you all tonight that you shall have a new queen.” Arcus takes my hand as I climb the shallow steps, the murmurs and polite audible interest of the court rising behind me. The announcement stirs them to applause, which Arcus quiets with a gesture so that he can continue. “Cenere has agreed to leave her faithless mate and join herself to me. From this moment on, she is not a simple human courtesan or a court plaything. She is your queen, even before the coronation ceremony. Any who touch her without my permission will face severe consequences.”
I would think that a threat like that would dampen a party, but the courtiers seem to find it amusing. Someone calls out, “Huzzah!” and the rest follow suit.
Arcus wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close to his side. His breath stirs a tendril of hair near my ear. “They love you, Cenere. They will worship you as you deserve to be worshipped.”
I’ve never thought, even once, that I deserve worship. What a ridiculous expectation for anyone to have. But I flutter my lashes at him and smile sweetly.
He doesn’t need words in response. I’m sure he’s already decided what I feel.
Addressing the court once more, Arcus announces, “A celebratory feast has been prepared, with entertainments from the farthest reaches of Fablemere. Go, be merry. Celebrate my good fortune and the justice that has been dealt to my enemy.”
Luthian lowers his head as if defeated.
“Luthian of Mithrax is now reinstated to the Court of Pleasure and Torment, with full privileges and honors. What little of the latter he has displayed,” Arcus continues.
Bowing low, Luthian says, “I thank Your Majesty profoundly.”
“I thank you.” Arcus’s fingers skate over the tops of my breasts above the low neckline of my gown. “For your understanding. Not every faery could withstand the humiliation of his mate preferring another.”
Ah, so that’s the line. My mouth twists with distaste. Arcus would have the court believe that I chose to leave my mate. The king’s ego will never be satisfied.
“Go forth!” Arcus calls out. “Feast!”
Doors on both sides of the hall open in unison. Light, colors, delicious smells and enticing music swirl beyond each one. The party seems to spread through the entire palace.
“Oh, Arcus,” I breathe, tilting my chin up to gaze at him adoringly. “This is far too much. I am not worthy of such—”
“Nonsense.” His lips find my throat. “You deserve to live in splendor for the rest of your mortal days.”
My mortal days. I’m lucky, at least, that I will age and die and escape him, should the assassination plot not work out.
It will work, I promise myself. I am queen of the Court of Pleasure and Torment. Or, will be. And once I am able, I will use that power to punish Cadwyn Thrace.
What then?
It’s a question I haven’t asked myself until this moment. Once I kill Thrace, will I return to Elegwyn Manor, with its rotting walls and leaking roof? Will I be content to tend it and live quietly, now that I’ve seen and experienced all that I have?
Will I be able to live without Luthian at my side? For once we achieve our mutual end and Cassan is on the throne, he will be gone from my life, probably forever.
I search the crowd for him and see that he’s already gone. Vanished, I assume, back to the house I have come to think of as home.
“Come,” Arcus says, shocking me out of my grim revelation. “I would show you your new chambers.”
“But the party, Your Majesty,” I say, already hearing moans of ecstasy from the open doorways.
Not that I will be allowed to partake in any of that particular type of entertainment. Arcus has made that gruelingly clear.
“We’ll come back,” he promises. “I wouldn’t abandon my own celebration. But I have a gift for you, as well.”
A bejeweled chastity belt? I think to myself with a mean little giggle that Arcus interprets as a laugh meant for him. He beams down at me and waves a hand.
We are no longer on the dais, but in a blindingly white room that makes me shield my eyes from the light. Pure white flame flickers in sconces on the walls, between mirrors that stretch from the white granite floors to the swirling ornamentations on the ceiling overhead. In the center of the room is an enormous, round bed, made up all in white, beneath a skylight shaped like a many-pointed star. The dark sky overhead is the only color, aside from that of our reflections, reproduced hundreds of times in endless tunnels as the mirrors look into each other.
I turn to Arcus in exaggerated wonder. “This is my room?”
“Your own private sanctuary.” He nods beyond the bed; a large, empty basin in the shape of a crescent moon curves around it, with steps to descend inside. “That will be filled with water from the very faery bath where I fell in love with you.”