Page 61 of The Witch in the Dead of Night

I stalked off toward my bedchamber. Waiters bustled past me balancing a towering cake garnished with sugar lilacs between them. A nobleman plucked one from the top tier as they passed, ignoring the panic that flashed across the nearest waiter’s face as he did so. I shook my head, annoyance prickling at the sight.

In my quarters, I stripped off my training garb and dunked hastily into the bath that was waiting for me. The water warmed as I lingered there, heat radiating from my body. Training had gone late this evening, and I didn’t have enough time to properly scrub the scent of smoke from my hair. I supposed the humans in attendance wouldn’t notice, although I couldn’t say the same about the vampires.

Water splashed onto the floor as I stood and wrapped a towel around myself. I soon exchanged it for a shimmering silver gown that hung in the wardrobe in the bedchamber. Its gossamer sleeves flowed like water from my shoulders to my wrists, and a long slit in the skirt stretched from thigh to ankle, revealing just a hint of skin. I sighed, wondering what Niamh would make of this gown. Enhart’s advice echoed in my ears as my fingers trailed down the fabric.

Shaking my head, I hurriedly tightened the laces at the front of the bodice and drifted to the vanity, where I secured the clasp of a diamond pendant around my neck, a gift from Mordric. The stone emitted a faint glow like a fallen star. The silver chain fell to just above the embroidered edge of the dress’s bodice, which hugged the gentle curve of my breast. I secured my hair with a simple silver circlet that sat on the vanity, leaving the rest to fall loose around my shoulders.

Mordric arrived to escort me to the banquet hall just as I finished dressing. Without a word, he swept me into his arms, robbing me of breath as he pressed his lips to mine. I smiled, wrapping my fingers around his neck. His hands dragged downward, brushing over the fragile laces of my gown. For a fleeting, wicked moment I was tempted to pull him backward into my chambers.

“Later,” he whispered breathlessly into my ear.

I grinned, relishing the ravenous look in his eyes. “Later,” I agreed.

He cleared his throat and straightened, offering me his arm. “You look lovely,” he said. “Like an elven queen of legend.”

I dipped my chin. “Thank you, Your Majesty. You look very handsome yourself.” He had donned black breeches and a doublet in the same shade of silver as my gown. The familiar silver diadem encircled his head, only this time it held a ruby at his crown that matched the one on his finger.

“Forgive me,” he said, as he led me down the illuminated corridors. “We will not be seated together tonight.”

“Really?” I asked. My face fell. I had grown used to his company at supper.

“My Tradesmaster has beseeched me to entertain one of the visiting ladies this evening,” Mordric continued. “She’s quite miserable about my recent decision to reorganize the trade routes in the east, apparently.”

“I see.”

“Your Majesty,” came a drawling voice as the doors of the banquet hall came into view. “Blessed Iltsar to you.”

Prince Enhart appeared from the opposite corridor, the redheaded vampiress, Genevieve, in tow. I stiffened at the sight of her. The prince was dressed in a midnight-blue waistcoat and black undershirt with billowing sleeves. A thin golden crown was perched upon his dark hair. Genevieve’s emerald-green gown clung to every curve of her body. She made an awkward curtsy to the King, as if the seams might rip if she moved too freely. I smirked.

“Prince Enhart,” said Mordric. “Lady Ulrich. A pleasure as always.”

“A pleasure, indeed,” Enhart replied. “I apologize for our late arrival. I know how much you love to make an entrance.”

“No need to apologize,” said Mordric jovially. He nodded to the guards, who pulled open the heavy gilded doors. “After you.”

Enhart dipped his head. “Of course. Do try not to set the banquet hall on fire tonight, Miss Erramun.”

My blood ran hot. Genevieve cackled, trailing after him into the banquet hall.

Mordric smiled down at me. “I’m glad to see that you two are finally getting along.”

I repressed a groan. “Swimmingly,” I said instead.

“I’ve arranged for you to sit next to Lady Lightborne this evening,” he said. “I do hope that’s alright.”

“Who’s Lady Lightborne?” I asked.

“That would be me,” said Vesper, grinning as she materialized at my side. Diamonds dripped from the diadem that adorned her head, casting shards of light across the walls. “I must thank His Majesty for giving me your arm for the evening once again.”

Mordric bowed to me. “I’ll see you after the feast,” he said. A laugh escaped me as he pulled me to his chest, his lips close to my ear. “I’ll be thinking about tearing that gown off of you all evening.”

My cheeks warmed as he released me to my friend then turned and offered a wave to his adoring guests. Their excitement tickled my skin as they climbed to their feet, already clumsy with drink. They bowed to him as he made his way to the head of the table, the gemstones that adorned their necks and fingers glittering in the light of the crystal chandelier above our heads. I’d never be unimpressed by the effortless way Mordric guided himself through a crowd. The room was his, and he knew it.

The massive table was laden with antlers dipped in silver and towers of exotic orange fruits. A troupe of fiddlers played a jovial tune by the windows, a puddle of gold coins growing at their feet.

“Thank the gods we’re together this evening,” Vesper sighed, as we settled ourselves in our seats. “These feasts can be an awful bore.”

“How do you fare?” I asked. “I’m sorry I haven’t had much time to see you. Things have been busy.”