A Discovery of Secrets and Fate (Chronicles of the Stone Veil #2) - Sawyer Bennett Page 0,97

people are dancing to a slow waltz. There is no band, so I have no clue where the music is coming from. We walk the perimeter, stopping to accept a fizzy drink from a servant that Carrick advises me is safe to drink but is potent, so to sip at it very slowly.

I take a tiny sip. It’s refreshingly light, and I want to gulp it. I start to raise it to my lips, but he warns, “Slowly, Finley. I don’t want to have to peel you off the floor.”

“Sorry,” I mutter as I look around and through the crowd. “Where is the royal family? Won’t they be attending?”

“Of course they will,” Carrick replies as we find a raised table in the corner to stand at. I set my drink on it, so I won’t be tempted to pull it to my mouth repetitively. Carrick does the same as he says, “They must make a grand entrance though. They will always be fashionably late to their own parties, making sure everyone is here first so that all eyes will be upon them when they arrive.”

“They really are a vain bunch,” I observe.

“You have no clue,” he utters in a low voice.

Suddenly, the swirling beat of the waltz fades away, and trumpeters start blowing a royal herald. All eyes turn to the steps leading down from the veranda, and there stands the royal family at the top.

Queen Nimeyah is a spectacle to behold in a blood-red gown of velvet that’s long-sleeved, fits through the bodice, but flares at the hips into a full-length skirt that has lots of fluffy crinolines or something like that underneath. The front is cut wide and low on her chest, exposing the inside swells of her breasts. Diamonds are crusted in a pattern starting just below where her navel would be, and rise up her stomach. As it reaches her breastbone, the diamond studding curves around the sides of each breast, fanning out into an image of stretched wings all the way to the tops of her shoulders.

Somehow attached to the back neckline of the gown is a half-crown of silver feathers that frame her entire head. Her black hair is done in a fishtailed braid that hangs over one shoulder, and it’s so long it reaches her front hip. Her makeup is stunning with darkly charcoaled eyes making her blue eyes seem to glow unnaturally.

Nimeyah stands slightly in front of the rest of her family, making it clear she is the ultimate authority.

Her husband, Callidan, who I haven’t met is—like the rest of the family—stunningly gorgeous. He, too, has black hair and blue eyes, and I wonder if that was a common coloring among fallen angels or perhaps there’s inbreeding among the fae. Callidan and Pyke are dressed similarly, much the way Carrick is tonight, with leather breeches, boots, and a tailored coat with long tails. Both men are in hunter green, the biggest distinguishing factor between the two is that the lapels of Pyke’s coat are taupe while his father’s are a deeper green.

Reluctantly, my gaze moves to Deandra, and my stomach bottoms out as I take in her provocative gown. Oddly, almost all of her skin from neck to toe is covered, but it is in a sheer white material that actually hides nothing. It’s like one large, flowing scarf was made with a hole cut out in the center for her head to pop through. It’s loose, baggy, and, standing still, doesn’t show her curves or any part of her body at all.

But as the family starts walking down the steps, and the material flows back against her body, everything is visible. She’s completely naked underneath, and there’s nothing left to the imagination from the dark areolas of her breasts with budded nipples to the black thatch of hair between her legs.

Her long hair is parted in the middle and is worn loose and wavy as if she just rolled out of bed. Her makeup is stark against her pale skin, particularly the ruby-red stain on her full lips.

Hesitantly, I turn my head and lift it slightly to see Carrick’s reaction. His face is a mask of nothingness, and I can’t tell if he’s looking at Deandra or the family as a whole.

I glance back to the royals as they reach the lawn and start for the tent where we are standing. Carrick might not be acknowledging Deandra right now, but her eyes are pinned to him, and she’s looking at him