Page 88 of A Dance Macabre

Gemini—the real, living Gemini—stands near the end of the table, entertaining the passing masses while the parade carries on down the street. Heavy step by heavy step.

He’s dressed especially eccentrically today, most likely reveling in the cruel theater of the entire affair. A black top hat is perched over his bleached hair, paired with a yellow tailcoat and white lace gloves. He prances around, twirling a cane adorned with a silver snake twisting up along the stick.

It was Gemini who warned me about Dizzy. He called me as soon as he found out during his tithing day. He collected secret after secret until eventually it was revealed: Dizzy was the leader of the insurrection. and she had plans to kill me—kill all of us.

Gemini brought in the help of Constantine, and together they tortured the information out of the one who spilled such a valuable secret, throwing a handful of my Vainglory Media employees to the wolves alongside a trickle of followers from each family. Even the random break-in involving Mercy was linked back to the uprising.

I was stunned—outraged. How couldn’t I have been? How could someone who claimed to pledge their loyalty to me want my demise? I had let my control over Dizzy slip over the years. Foolishly convinced that she didn’t need any more persuasion to follow my orders blindly and willingly.

I should have known never to trust a low-born like her.

Did I knowwhenexactly this betrayal would happen?

No.

But Mercy’s suspicious disappearance that same night left me on edge. It’s as if I had been standing on the tip of a dagger this entire time, and Gemini’s call had finally revealed the peril staring me in the face.

Mercy isn’t the only one capable of sensing the unseen.

I suspected Mercy could betray me if she had the chance, the knowledge like a splinter I would rather ignore. But it being confirmed right before my eyes hurt more than I ever expected.

But then.

The desperation in her remorse afterward …

I’ve been using it like a balm, recalling Mercy pleading for forgiveness at my feet anytime I need solace.

Gemini’s booming voice rips me out of my wandering thoughts. “Citizens of Pravitia! Behold your witless queen!” His laugh is chilling as he jumps on top of the table, his speech echoing the little performance he did for us before the maze hunt. Kicking a cluster of grapes, it hits the severed head before landing with a splat into a bowl of gravy. “Feast your eyes!” he bellows, arms out wide while he turns in circles on the spot. “And see what it means to oppose one of us.” He picks up an apple and takes a large bite. He chews and swallows before dazzling the crowd with his smile. “Foolish indeed.”

I turn to Mercy, her hands on the gold railings of the palanquin while her gaze is fixed on Gemini. There’s a subtle twinkle in her eyes, and I smile wide for the both of us, knowing Gemini is the only person in this city able to amuse her in such a way.

I might not have forgiven Mercy … yet. But her penance has been ever so sweet to taste. I might not be able to persuade her like I can with most, but having her surrender to my whims—out of guilt I’m sure—will do for now.

I let the sound of the crowd cheering wash over us as I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her to my chest. A soft, but shocked, gasp tumbles out of her lips, her hands now pressing against my chest.

“Wolfgang,” she says quietly, almost like a warning.

My fingers crawl down her hips and over the swell of her ass.

“Something to say, Crèvecoeur?” I ask with a wide, derisive smile.

Her eyes narrow, clearly unimpressed by such a public show of affection. She knows better than to dispute.

If she wants my trust, she’ll need to abide by my rules.

It’s a rare instance to have Mercy like this, and I will savor every single second of it.

Careful not to mess with her updo—I know my limits—I slip my fingers around her neck, my index finger tracing the soft skin under her jaw. With my thumb, I lift her chin and softly press my lips to hers. She’s wearing a dark shade of red lipstick today and the possibility of it staining is inconsequential.

Because this is the very purpose of it, isn’t it? To claim her as mine. To let her lipstick defile my mouth as if I’d drunk a mouthful of blood from her artery. I deepen the kiss, my hand near her hip curling into a fist, pulling her dress along with it.

I can almost make out the crowd roaring even louder than before. Or maybe it’s the roaring sound of my heartbeat in my ears. There’s a sick sense of pleasure to have Mercy like this.

She’s hardly resisting. Her hands snake inside my coat, wrapping around my waist. She can pretend to hate this, she can pretend she would rather keep our affairs private, but the pleased sigh that I nearly miss over the crowd solidifies that she’s just as smitten as I am.

Except I didn’t have to try to have her killed to realize that.

The thought is a bitter crumb, polluting the moment and seeping into the sweetness of her tongue against mine. I break away from our kiss but keep a cocky smile on my lips so as not to have Mercy question my train of thought. Her lipstick is smudged, and my cock can’t help but twitch at the sight.

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