Page 76 of The Truth-Teller's Bargain
Nakir leaned in, his breath warm on her neck. “The Great Lord and Lady have used runes to enchant this entire garden to be the perfect temperature.”
“I thought the entire point of these was that everyone would be naked by the end of the night anyway,” Kerrigan remarked with a wicked smirk, and Alethea blanched.
“Not everyone celebrates Revels the same as you do, Kerrigan,” Balthasar said.
The night unfurled before them in a vast array of vibrant colors and pulsating energy. As they stepped further into the revelry, the scent of burning wood mingled with the sweet aroma of exotic spices wafting from food stalls. Each step they took was accompanied by the rhythmic beat of drums, like a primal heartbeat that echoed through the festival grounds.Bonfires blazed in magnificent pyres, casting flickering shadows that danced upon the faces of the revelers. Every few feet, there was a new bonfire, each one towering higher than the last.
The grounds sprawled endlessly, with an array of tables where exotic fruits, delicate pastries, and spiced meats tempted the senses, even as Alethea remembered what kinds of substances were on offer.
Music floated on the night breeze, from the melodic strains of flutes and strings to the primal beat of drums. The band nearest to them played an upbeat melody, its infectious rhythm compelling Emi to sway to the music.
“I need a drink,” she declared, snatching a goblet of wine from a nearby table. “And a dance!” She looked pointedly at Dawes first, then Balthasar—each of them giving her equally concerned expressions—before settling on Nakir and dragging him to the nearest throng of bodies.
“Is there going to be some kind of... ceremony?” Alethea asked Bal, peering around for a priest or a cleric of Nysos. She had never seen one before and couldn’t imagine what one might look like.
Her friend chuckled, shaking his head. “No. The party starts when you arrive. I’m sure the hosts are around, if you wish to speak to them, but generally, these festivals are choose-your-own-adventures.” He and Dawes were scanning the crowd, and she got the impression it wasn’t to look for their own adventure, but to search for nearby threats.
“I think my adventure is somewhere over there,” Kerrigan announced before picking up a wine goblet, downing its entire contents, and waving as she wandered off into the heart of the festivities. The chaotic energy of the Revel swallowed her whole, her fiery hair disappearing amidst the sea of vibrant revelers.
Alethea knit her brows in concern, but Balthasar’s unbothered demeanor reassured her.
It wasn’t long before Emi and Nakir had returned after theirdance, the former with a proud smile across her face. “There. Now, how do we find food that isn’t going to make me want to touch the stars?” she asked the group before noticing their missing member. “Where’s Kerrigan?”
“I have no idea,” Dawes admitted. “And I have no idea. I’ve never done one of these sober before.”
“Me either,” Emi replied, glancing around. “Come on—I want to explore!” Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she surveyed the vast expanse of the estate, leading the way as if she were on a quest to uncover hidden secrets within the very heart of the revelry.
They passed dozens of tables of food and drink, though they only dared to have a few sips from glasses clearly marked as wine or juice. More bonfires, more musicians. Hundreds andthousandsof people. Many of them were dancing—sensual dances, partnered dances, some just moving their bodies to the music ecstatically on their own. Alethea caught sight of groups of partygoers lounged in small circles of cushions and rugs, chatting and passing around smoking pipes and colorful drinks.
They also passed an array of large canvas merchant tents, their flaps open wide, revealing a dazzling array of items. These makeshift shops were tended by enthusiastic attendants showcasing their wares of silks, spices, and trinkets.
Other tents offered a sense of cozy simplicity. Within them, plush furs and rugs covered the ground, pillows of every size and hue scattered. These tents seemed like sanctuaries, peaceful retreats from the chaos outside, where revelers could rest but still indulge in the festivities. Alethea blushed thinking about how some might make use of that kind of tent, but most were currently unoccupied.
Some of the people acknowledged them, many greeting the group as if there were no such thing as strangers. Some of them Nakir even knew, though how, Alethea didn’t bother to ask. What surprised her the most was how people approachedher. Dozens curtsied and bowed before she had a chance to stop them, several of them marveling over her dress and her hair. The attention was overwhelming, and eventually, she found herself hiding behind her friends. She’d never been so adored before, and the attention terrified her.
While the others found themselves caught up in chatting with a small group lounging and smoking something pungent from a long pipe, Alethea’s curiosity got the better of her. She didn’t intend to wander very far, but between the pulsing music and the haze of the bonfires, she hardly realized when the food table she’d set her eyes upon turned out to be much farther away than expected.
She wasn’t worried, though, as she carefully picked through the generous spread for something appetizing. She wasn’t sure how to tell if any of the foods were more than they appeared, and she was determined to abstain with the rest of the group. Alethea loaded a plate with several options that seemed quite safe for consumption: grapes, pear slices, some figs, as well as an assortment of meats and cheeses. She happily indulged on her own, enjoying her solitude as well as the peaceful melody from an orchestra nearby.
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as an unsettlingly familiar voice echoed in her ear.
“Never thought I’d see the day Zenobia Onasis let her precious daughter out of sight, let alone attend a Revel.”
Alethea spun around, coming face-to-face with a ghost from her past. “Reingard.”
He hadn’t changed since she saw him last. His golden hair, meticulously coiffed, framed his sharp features, accentuating the intensity of his hazel eyes. His attire, a navy-blue suit tailored to perfection, spoke of his royal lineage, and his confidence in every step he took was an embodiment of Azmarin’s aristocratic grace. Reingard appeared to be unaccompanied. His arrogance, an almost tangible aura around him, clashed with the vibrantenergy of the Revel. Yet there was an undercurrent of something more in his hard stare—a hint of calculation that sent a chill down her spine.
His grin was predatory as he stalked closer still. “Shocked, I see. I can say that I know how you feel, Princess. Is your mother here too then? There’s no way in Aeshma’s Hell she would allow you to attend a Revel unaccompanied.” He stepped forward, invading her personal space as if he had ownership of it.
She tried to shrink away from him, memories of the last time they were alone together flooding her thoughts.
“Unless... she doesn’t know you’re here.”
Alethea took a step back, discarding her plate on the table next to her, but he matched her every step.
“She doesn’t know, does she?”
She swallowed, unsure of how to answer his question without lying. She simply raised her chin defiantly, determined not to let him rattle her, but very aware of her exposed neck.
