Page 17 of Daughter of the Ninth Line: Part One

Vox

Each of the Upper Six Lines took it in turns to host a party. I didn’t usually attend, unless I thought it was beneficial to whatever alliance I needed to create, or I needed to get my dick wet, or it was held by the Third Line.

Which was why I was here today. I couldn’t let the Third Line get too out of hand, couldn’t let Hayle Taeme win more people to his side. So I came to the Third Line parties, and I held court like I was royalty. I invited people to sit with me. I engaged. I was personable and friendly, sociable to a degree that I wanted to vomit at the shallowness of it all.

Looking around the room, I was surprised that Taeme wasn’t here; I could see his cousin and a few of his inner circle mingling, as well as people from every one of the other Six Lines that mattered, most of them already well on the way to being black-out levels of inebriated. Before the end of the night, Lines and alliances wouldn’t matter as they all got drunk off their faces and fucked like the Lower Lines. Like animals.

A murmur flowed through the crowd, and I tuned out what Ephily from the Fifth was droning on about on my lap, because Taeme had arrived, but not alone.

No, he’d brought three dirt scrabblers from the Twelfth, andher.

I clenched my back teeth, grinding them together, as Avalon Halhed looked around the room with wide eyes. She looked unsure of herself, but fuck, she was beautiful. She was in a dress in the style of the Twelfth Line, which might explain the other guests, but with her soft, creamy skin and her full breasts, she looked like a goddess.

I fucking hated her. Or perhaps more correctly, I hated that I wasn’t fucking her.

“What the hell, Taeme?” Eugene from the Fourth Line muttered. “These parties aren’t for them.”

Audacious of him to say that to the host of the party.

I made a mental note to talk to Eugene, especially if he got on Taeme’s bad side. The enemy of my enemy was my friend, or whatever the saying was. I dreaded it already, though, because Eugene was a boring, pretentious asshole.

Taeme’s eyes snapped to Eugene, his vicious smirk just shy of a snarl. Eugene was an idiot; he wouldn’t be able to sense the pure threat in Taeme’s stance. “What floor are you on right now, Eugene? Is it yours? No?”

Eugene just stared.

“Then shut the fuck up. I’m the Heir to the Third Line, this whole domain is mine, and I’ll invite whoever the fuck I want. Or uninvite anyone who I want. Get the fuck out.”

Eugene blustered, stuttering over his words, but Lucio Taeme just picked him up, walked him to the door of the dorm, and threw him out.

Hayle spun in a circle, meeting the gaze of every person in the room who was staring at the small group. “If anyone else has a problem, get the fuck out.” His eyes met mine, a challenge in them once more. I could fight him over this, but why bother?Having her here would just give me a better chance to fuck with Hayle.

And I didn’t give a shit about the dirt scrabblers either. I didn’t need to jockey for power like the rest of them. So I shrugged, like it meant nothing to me.

With Taeme and I in agreement, the party had no choice but to restart, and Lucio Taeme turned the music back up. “Shots!” he yelled, receiving some half-hearted cheers, and the night went on. Taeme directed the girl to the other side of the room from me, and pointed out the bar to the Twelfth Line conscripts.

Ephily crawled back into my lap. “What is Hayle thinking, inviting this trash to our parties? Look at their clothes, their hair. They don’t fit in here at all,” she tittered, and I resisted the urge to shove her off my lap. Ephily sometimes forgot she was Fifth Line, so to me—and my parents—she may as well be Twelfth. She wouldn’t be suitable for the Heir of the First Line. I was probably going to end up with someone from Fourth, or if my parents wanted to appease Third, someone from there. If they wanted to cement our place among our own people, I’d probably marry the daughter of one of the Capital diplomats.

What Ephily seemed to fail to understand as she “accidentally” ground on my dick with her ass, was that she could warm my bed, but I had little to no choice in who I married. She was still yammering on, and it was beginning to give me a headache.

Time to distract her. “I’d like a drink.”

As predicted, Ephily leapt off my lap like this one act of service was going to secure her a ring.

I watched Avalon Halhed until she was shifting around, and just to fuck with her, I wrapped a small thread of wind around her ankle, then up her calf muscle. Her eyes snapped to mine, and I hated how much I enjoyed the fire in them as she glared.I wondered how she’d look at me if I ran the wind thread a little higher.

Holding her gaze, I curled it further up her dress, twisting it around her knee, then her thigh. Her jaw clenched, her eyes turning furious. I should stop, but something about her reaction was almost addictive. The dislike in her expression that she didn’t even try to mask. Her complete lack of social etiquette. So I didn’t stop. I moved the wind thread higher, at her very upper thigh, a mere inch from her pussy.

She leapt to her feet, marching toward me. I leaned back in my chair, giving her a crooked grin. I liked her flushed cheeks, even if it was with anger. I liked the way her eyes flashed at mine.

“They really are letting anyone into these parties.” I echoed the words of Eugene. “Is there something I can help you with, Ninth?”

She glared at me. “My name is Avalon.”

I arched my brow. “I know. And you are infecting the air around me with the scent of mountain sheep shit. So I repeat, what can I help you with, Ninth?”

“You can keep your magic to your goddamn self,” she snapped.

I tilted my head and ran a small tendril of air across the seam of her panties. They were damp. “Seems to me you might like it.”

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