Page 55 of Lore of the Wicked Wood
His brows knit together in concern as he studied her. “It disappeared as soon as we walked inside, Ever.”
Except it hadn’t…not for her.
“Come on.” He took her hand once more, lacing their fingers together. “The menagerie is right around this corner.”
Once they were fully inside the Mystic Obscura, everything was exactly as Everinne remembered. The rows of velvet seating and sweeping balconies were brimming with Starysa’s wealthiest patrons while patrons and performers alike roamed the lower level of the menagerie. An enchanting melody floated through the air, so sensual in sound, she could almost taste the flavor of it on her tongue—lush berries drizzled in dark chocolate. Pattering rain fell on the main stage where a male and female took the lead. They danced together, never breaking contact, as every slow twirl, spin, and dip showcased the torture of forbidden desire.
“Everinne.” A cold, deep voice coasted past her ear and she shivered, turning around to find Jarek standing directly behind her.
His brown hair was a little more unkempt than usual, as though he’d raked his hands through it one too many times. He looked at her with those honey-colored eyes, except this time they appeared frosted, touched by ice. There was a snag near thecollar of his black shirt where some of the fabric had begun to fray and a dark stain, like mud, along the hem of his pants. He cracked his knuckles, the skull rings he wore glinting in the low light.
Beside her, Atlas stiffened.
Everinne took in Jarek’s roughened appearance and cocked her head to the side. Smirking, she asked, “Rough night?”
He ignored her question.
“I see you brought the prince as your guest for the evening.” Jarek looked pointed at their joined hands.
Atlas’s grip increased, squeezing her hand.
Jarek bowed obnoxiously low. “Your Imperial Highness.”
Atlas merely inclined his head in acknowledgement, his gaze darkening.
The tension between the two males was pulled taut like a tightrope, ready to snap. This was not the same wave of jealousy she’d sensed from Atlas while flirting with Lord Tovian. No, this was something more potent and bitter. Hostile and ancient.
“Well…” Everinne glanced up at the two males staring off with one another. “I have to go get ready before I’m late.”
Jarek offered his arm. “Do you need me to show you to the dressing rooms?”
She gave him a tight smile. “I can manage on my own.”
At least, she would’ve been able to find her way if Atlas would let her go. He pulled her to his side, pointing up to where one of the balconies protruded from the center, higher than all the rest. Silken emerald curtains were tied back with gold cord, framing a gilded chair fit for a kralv. Or a prince.
“My suite is up there.” He met her gaze in earnest, then released her hand. “If you need me, you’ll know where to find me.”
“Thank you, Your Radiance.” She grinned when he gritted his teeth, then she turned on one heel, stalking off with purposeaway from the glowering males. The floor beneath her feet shimmered with each step and she tried not to stare as she passed a pretty vampire dressed in a gown of sheer scarlet lace that was so snug, the intricate details looked painted on her ivory flesh. With a stig pinched between two of her fingers and a glass full of bubbly gold liquid in the other, her bell-like laughter only further entranced the gathering of mesmerized males surrounding her.
Not so long ago, Everinne held that kind of power.
She could waltz into a room and snare the wandering eye of every male in her general vicinity. But instead of merely enjoying the attention she craved, she was forced to work for it. Now, she danced on hoops and put the extent of her talents on display out of necessity. Eventually, she might grow weary of performing and maybe the excitement would fade with time.
But not tonight.
It took her slightly longer than she expected, but finally Everinne discovered the dressing room beneath the menagerie. She shoved open the door and was instantly greeted by Aisling’s wide and welcoming smile.
“Everinne!” Aisling pulled out a chair in front of one of the vanities. “Dress quickly,milazk, so I can do your makeup before your performance.”
A blush crept into Everinne’s cheeks.
“You don’t have to, I was only joking about that last night.” Everinne walked over to the racks of glittering fabrics to choose an outfit for the night. “I’m perfectly capable of putting on my own makeup.”
“Nonsense.” Aisling waved one hand through the air, the silver bangles on her wrists jingling with the movement. Her hot pink hair was twisted into a braid that fell over one shoulder, a few of the pieces pinned into place by charms shaped like snowflakes. She wore snug black leather pants, and the beadssewn onto her white bodice sparkled like moonlit snow. She tapped the back of the chair with her nails. “Besides, I’ve been here for so long, applying makeup has become an expression of art for me.”
“So long?” Everinne asked, selecting a sapphire bodysuit. “The Mystic Obscura hasn’t been in Prava for more than a few years.”
“You’re right, of course.” Aisling’s face shuttered, her cerulean eyes losing a hint of their previous light. “Forgive me, I don’t know where my mind has been lately. I must’ve misspoken.”
