mid-chest, his high, severe cheekbones flushed, those lush lips pulled into that loose sardonic grin. His bone-white hair was tousled to the side, a few longer strands curling against his stiff black collar.
The scent of smoke, brandy, and something else—the cloying hint of perfume—clung to him, killing the last of her appetite
Stretching back in his seat, he folded his arms behind his head, causing his half-unbuttoned shirt to bare even more of his chest, and fixed her with a heavy-lidded gaze.
She held his stare, praying she looked indifferent.
You look . . . nice. His voice trickled into her mind, syrupy and warm and uninvited.
You look drunk.
Before he could respond, she imagined a black wall of dirt and rocks and sludge between them, forming it with her mind. Making it grow wider and wider until it lodged heavy and impenetrable between them. Stolas had insisted they spend at least half an hour every day practicing that very move, locking her up tight in the event that she was ever captured.
Using that very same technique against him felt oddly empowering, and she gazed placidly at him.
“Very good, Beastie.”
Thank the Goddess, no one seemed to find it weird that he was having a one-sided conversation with her, probably because of his condition. Which wasn’t really sloppy drunk. If most poisons couldn’t kill him then it probably took a lot of alcohol to affect him, and even then, he would never be falling-down-drunk.
But his edges seemed softened somehow, his powerful body loose and at ease in a way she hadn’t seen in a while.
Delphine was to his right, and her nose wrinkled as she leaned in and sniffed him. Then she balled her hand into a fist, hit into her open palm, and gestured as if drawing air into her nose.
“What is she saying?” Bell asked Surai.
Xandrian laughed. “Oh, I can answer that. I imagine she said he smells like a whorehouse.”
Haven’s gut tightened. Maybe that’s why he looked so . . . content.
“I do hope Neri doesn’t castrate Eros,” Xandrian continued. “He’s the first mortal ruler I’ve encountered who has any balls.”
Everyone went quiet. Haven looked to Bell, but he was already rising from his seat, his jaw tight. “I’m going to get some air.”
Too late, understanding dawned on Xandrian’s face. He blinked. Cleared the flicker of emotion from his eyes.
And then, after a fleeting glance at Bell’s retreating form, went back to making magickal creatures from his glass.
Haven’s chair scraped against the marble floor as she rose. “I think I’ll join him.”
Ignoring Stolas’s blistering stare, she caught up to Bell in the nearest alcove just outside the corridor. It didn’t take long to find an empty balcony overlooking the docks, tucked away behind an overhanging wall of clematis and wisteria.
He snagged two flutes of champagne from a waiter passing by and then leaned against the marble railing. “Runes, this feels just like in Penryth when we used to escape those never-ending banquets Cressida held, remember?”
“Runes, that woman insisted on at least thirty courses,” Haven groaned, sitting along the railing as she accepted the champagne. “You know Xandrian didn’t mean it, right?”
“Yes, he did. But that’s not why I left.” Bell studied the bubbles in his glass as if they held the answers to life.
“Then why did you? And don’t say it was the soup because I actually liked it.”
Bell barked out a hollow laugh. “You like everything, so it doesn’t count.” He took a sip. “I left because everything Xandrian said was true. My ancestors, the kings I’ve been taught to look up to my entire life, they were terrible rulers, corrupt in almost every way.” His knuckles whitened around the stem of his flute. “Now Renk holds that seat of power, and he’s worse than all of them combined. So, yeah, I’m pissed. Pissed at the suffering he’s going to cause. Pissed that I can’t do more to stop it. And most of all, I’m furious that it took me this long to understand.”
“Understand?”
“The difference I could have made back then. Instead, all I cared about was books and clothes and hiding from my duties. Renk doesn’t deserve the throne, but maybe neither do I.”
Her chest tightened at the pain and frustration dripping from his voice. “Trust me, we’ve all done things that we’re not exactly proud of, me more than most, but those actions hold no bearing on who you are today. This very moment.”
“Goddess Above, who are you and what have you done with my friend?” he teased.
“Shut up.