Page 9 of Courting War
“Do you think it’s your abs or your face they like more, huh, Kel?” Emmett asked, trying to distract Kellyn from his nerves.
“My face has scars.”
“Oh, that just makes you look more rugged and handsome. It really works with the ladies . . . and gents.”
“Right . . .”
Cecile shook her head. “What do you like better, Emmett, his face or his abs . . . or is it his ass I find you ogling the most?”
“I ogle your ass just as much as his. I can’t help it; the two of you are so attractive. I do have eyes, even if I’d never fuck either of you.” The sides of his mouth tilted up, and he oozed smooth charm like enchantment and wore it like his breathtaking smile. “Speaking of fucking, have you tumbled in thesheets with any of them?” He gestured once more to the “fan club”.
Shame rippled up Kellyn’s throat because he didn’t know, and he really should have. He’d had so many lovers. After all, that’s how everyone made it through the deadly Agoge—fucking like they might die the next day. It wasvery possiblehe’d slept with one of his admirers—if not many of them.
“Uh,” Kellyn grunted.
“You can’t remember, can you? No worries, brother, I’ve fucked nearly all of them for you. They weren’t that memorable, except for the blond at the end. Oh, and the beautiful redhead next to him was great too . . . and at the same time, you can’t imagine their—”
“—Emmett, we get it, you’re quite skilled, but can we—” Cecile was interrupted by a footman approaching and handing over a message. “Miss Declare, you have a telegram from Andromeda.”
“A telegram?” Emmett asked.
Cecile unfolded the letter. “It’s probably a notice telling me who Andromache picked as her champion for the Sacrifice.”
Each country had a different way of choosing its champion. In Andromeda, Andromache, Goddess of Light, selected her champion and blessed them. Because of this, the Andromaden champion almost always survived the games.
Cecile’s eyes traced the message, and her smile faltered, her fingers shaking. Visibly gulping, she folded the paper and slid it into a pocket in her dress.
“What is it?” Kellyn asked. Something was off. He knew her expressions better than his own.
She flashed a false smile. “It’s nothing. We should focus on your task.”
“That isn’t nothing,” Emmett said as he tried to snatch the paper from her pocket.
She was far too quick for him. Twirling out of his reach, she thrust her fist up and grazed him on the chin. Cecile wasby far the fastest—and most vicious—of his friends. “Try it again, and I’ll break your perfect little nose.”
The royal retinue and council representatives in the ballroom flashed their eyes to the warriors but immediately lost interest. Sparring among the warrior class was so frequent no one batted an eye.
“Fine.” Emmett let out an intentionally dramatic sigh. “What would I do if I weren’t themostbeautiful one among us?”
“Probably grow a pair of—”
“—Cecile,” Kellyn chided. “There is no need to attack his masculinity. We all know he is our pretty princess.”
“You two are merely jealous that I look better in a ballgown. It isn’t my fault that I have far superior confidence, taste, and style than you two and far superior luck with the ladies . . . and gents.” Emmett winked at them.
Kellyn turned to Cecile. “He’s wearing your ballgowns again?”
“My periwinkle Vorthe gown was loose the last time I tried it.” She narrowed her eyes at the boy in question. “Buy your own dresses already. I know mine are spectacular, but you aren’t wanting for money.”
Cecile flattened out a wrinkle in her glimmering scarlet Andromaden-styled dress. Like most Andromaden citizens, Cecile had ostentatious fashion choices like the diamond encrusted crimson flowers raining from her bodice like blood-red tears. It was the polar opposite of the simplistic and functional style of Theodenites.
Emmett opened his mouth to make a retort but was cut off by the commanding entrance of Gallagher Healy.
Oh gods,just what Kellyn needed.
Gallagher spoke with a soft, pixie-like voice, but she had the presence of a praying mantis seconds before killing its mate. She dominated every room she entered, despite her petite stature. She was like a termite, whittling her way into power and prominence. She wore a deep purple pinstriped dress, highlighting her tawnyskin, and her silver-blonde hair was sculpted into an elaborate chignon.
Spotting the trio, a vicious smile danced across her ruby lips, and she nearly bounced across the room to reach them. “Are you ready for your big speech?”
