Covet the Night, page 19
Polite chatter sounded from the head of the table, something to do with next steps and proper protocols for dissents and new measures. Jakob and Irina exchanged smirks, cheering one another with a delicate chime of their champagne flutes. Gwen averted her gaze before they kissed, sweeping her eyes to the three empty seats. They must have been for River, Bailey, and—
"Where's Jax, your sorcerer? He's been away quite some time now, hasn't he?"
The dulcet flow of conversation halted at Gwen's question. She forked a portion of tartar onto a toast point and bit off the small mouthful delicately while she awaited an answer.
"Though we'd hoped he would have been able to join us, I'm afraid Jax is still away on business."
Gwen shared a cordial smile with Irina. "And where does Jax's predilection lie exactly? Rumors make him out to be a jack of all trades, but sorcerers do usually favor one practice of magic above others. Is he one of those philosophical sorcerers? An alchemist? A mage or tempest?"
A ripple of chuckles bounced around the table.
Deval tilted back as Briar leaned forward to respond. "You certainly know a lot about sorcerers. Aren't you vying to become a vampyré?"
Another round of laughter filtered around the table. Gwen kept her cordial smile even as a bout of fatigue struck her from the simple act.
"Oh, I already know all I need to about becoming a vampyré."
"Do you now?" William asked on the heel of her remark.
Gwen set down both her fork and knife before giving her attention to William. His copper eyes glinted in the warm overhead light as he stared at her. Her nose inched up before replying.
"Yes."
The Vranas watched the standoff with blatant interest.
Briar snorted. "And she’s apparently an expert on sorcery."
Gwen clenched her jaw at the snarky barb. A brittle silence filled the interim as she took another bite of her appetizer, then a leisurely sip of champagne. When she finished her methodical movements, she swept her dark-lined eyes back to Briar. The disgraced Roux sister reclined like a queen, and her consort held her hand complacently.
"The sisters thought it best to arm us with knowledge after those rogue saboteurs destroyed the Cellar and killed so many courtiers. As you all know, the Roux Household—my household—did not go unscathed." She let the quiet linger long enough to unsettle the comfortable atmosphere. When Ruby opened her mouth to interject, Gwen barreled on with faux pleasantry. "My dear sister Antonia was choked by some maniac. Her bruises were atrocious.
"Thank the gods Jax has been away. It seems as if everyone and anyone who practices magic is on the outs at court. Not to mention the punishment dealt out to the guilty party." Gwen cringed to emphasize her point but smiled gleefully on the inside at bringing the table to another standstill.
Lily would be proud.
The attendants returned and cleared the table, taking away empty plates and swapping out silverware for clean sets. During the transition, Gwen became aware of William staring at her chest. Her heart skipped a beat. Her strapless dress boasted a daring plunged neckline, but William appeared unaffected by the illusion of cleavage her dress gave. No. Fighting the urge to squirm in her seat, she went rigid instead. He’s staring at my scar.
Poppy's expert hands applied the makeup to conceal it and the deformed birthmark that stood out so starkly against her pale skin. She'd done a marvelous job, truly, and the chunky metal necklace Gwen wore covered what the makeup could not. Yet under William's intense regard, she felt exposed.
"Sorry we're late." Gwen whipped her head to the right and found Bailey and River near panting in the entry. River put on a dazzling smile. "What did we miss?" She anxiously smoothed down her creamy off-white suit, studying their reactions. Gwen admired the healthy glow of her light brown skin and fought to stifle a grin as she took in her outfit as a whole. If her plunge was risqué… well, the lack of top beneath River's jacket was a whole different kind of temptation.
"Is that my suit?" Irina bristled.
Rather than answer, River busied herself by taking the seat next to Gwen. Bailey, who was dressed for nothing short of combat in tight leather leggings and a loose shirt, took the seat across from her. Gwen's eyes lowered to the lycan’s knuckles dotted with dried blood. Perhaps, she thought, the battle had already occurred.
"What did we miss?" River repeated.
"Beef tartar—" Bailey made a low, pained sound. "—along with some very riveting conversation about the current forum on addendums and Jax. Please make more of an effort to be on time. It's the least you can do for pressing upon our generous hospitality so abruptly."
"Sorry, Aunt Irina."
Mollified by River's apology and then Bailey's—uttered with contrition—Irina forged on. "Gwen, I don't believe you've met my niece and her friend. River is my brother's daughter, and Bailey is a member of his pack. Bailey used to babysit River and my nephew, West. They've been close friends since. "
"Who says I'm not still babysitting?"
Irina grinned at Bailey's cheekiness. River scowled.
"It's a pleasure to meet you both," Gwen said as fast as was acceptable. The rest of the table needn't know they had met before. Both pasted on lackluster smiles.
"Charmed, I'm sure," River extended her hand to Gwen, and they shook briefly.
"Shall I call for the next course?" Several voices sounded their approval of Irina's suggestion. "Wonderful. Effie, dear? Bring the soup, please."
The soup placed before Gwen smelled heavenly. It tasted even better. What she liked most was the two extra bowls perfuming the air with the same delicious spices of roasted red pepper as her own. It lessened the growing scent of blood in the air. She shifted, stifling a wince of discomfort that rolled down her spine at the action.
"What did you think of Valdora's display at the fight, River?" Sebastian asked halfway through the course. "It must be fascinating to be in the presence of so many talented sorcerers after having grown up in a coven of formidable witches."
River perked up. "I thought it was magnificent. The power of a tempest is unparalleled—though some master mages would surely disagree and take grave offense—it's just so raw. It's as if they have a direct tap to the vein of whatever god or goddess favors them. Ceres, Zeus, Iris, Stata Mater, Vesta, Hathor or Bast, Aphrodite—can you imagine having one of them as your patron?" She tucked her hair behind her ears, barely containing her enthusiasm. Broad smiles shined back at the young witch because her excitement, even leashed, was contagious. "The spell itself must have taken ages to master. I can't fathom being a conduit for such powerful magic and to be able to wield it so flawlessly? She's a marvel."
Gwen had also been swept up in the young witch's enthusiasm until her last comment. Skepticism curled down the ends of her mouth. "Flawless would imply her performance was perfect. It wasn't." The table's occupants reversed their stares to Gwen. "What?" She gave a short laugh. "I'm living proof, am I not? Her magic worked on me at first, then turned to paralyzing pain. If not for Ruby's generosity, I'd be in far worse shape."
"Maybe that's how her spell was supposed to go."
The spoon slipped from Gwen's hand and clattered against her soup bowl. Not a word was uttered.
Gwen straightened her spine slowly, grinding her teeth together as she sat flush with the seat’s back and its stiff cushion pressed against her rash. Someone cleared their throat—William—but she only had eyes for the prodigal niece.
"I'm sorry." The severe cut of Gwen's smile made her eye twitch. "Are you saying she purposefully hurt me and a handful of others? That's your idea of impressive magic? If that's the case, please tell me, what are your thoughts on the Cellar incident by the sorcerer clan? Impressive, no?" She spoke casually with a growing sneer. "They only managed to kill a handful of supernaturals." And one innocent human. Guilt cut at her.
River struggled to rein in her emotions, but heat still suffused her cheeks, turning the tawny skin rosy. "That’s not what I—" The color on her face deepened. "Valdora is only human, technically speaking. The will of her god must have prevailed. It wasn't her intention to hurt anyone—"
"It was her god's?"
River scowled. "It's possible."
Gwen crossed her arms. "Is it really so hard for you to admit Valdora isn't the end-all of sorcerers? You said it yourself—she's human. The most logical answer is she couldn't handle the power, and people were hurt as a result. Me included. It wasn't very nice to feel like I was being killed from the inside out." Her voice caught at the end, and the young witch softened.
"I suppose," she conceded, her bluster waning.
Gwen scoffed and turned her gaze away, catching William's eye.
He grinned. The color on her face reminded him of a strawberry ripe for picking, and the fire in her eyes was most pleasing. He enjoyed seeing Gwen riled. Everything about her in that state made her so much more vibrant and alive. She was a woman undaunted and ready to defend herself and her views. She was strong.
Besides that, William understood Gwen's ire and aggression. Valdora's magic had hurt her, and it was clear the effects of said magic were lasting—he'd need to speak with the sorceress about that. As it was, River’s supernatural abilities didn’t include an enhanced sense of smell. With his hybrid senses, he picked up trace amounts of discomfort wafting off Gwen, layered underneath the familiar scent of peppermint. William knew the aroma well; he often used a peppermint balm to relax his muscles after sparring rather than relying on the magical salves passed around at court that one could become too dependent on.
"Gwen?" Ruby called from the other end of the table. "How are you feeling now? I didn't realize Valdora's magic made you feel so horrendous."
William watched attentively as Gwen opened and then closed her mouth, clearly stuck between honesty and deception.
"I'm managing," she finally replied.
"Would you like another pill?"
"No, thank you," Gwen said. She wasn't fond of the idea of another Vrana family dinner.
"So, that night at the bar," Bailey cut in, leaning back as one of the servers took away her bowl of soup. Gwen blinked owlishly back at the she-wolf's abrasive stare and offered a tentative nod. "How exactly did you manage to get out? No offense, but there's nothing particularly extraordinary about you. You have no magic, no supernatural strength or speed. We"—Bailey inclined her head in a swift jerk to River—"left before the shit hit the fan. But you? You had numbers, but then… well, we know how that turned out for you."
A buzzing noise rang in Gwen's ears as she ground her molars. An almost imperceptible chill entered the room.
"Don't, Bailey," River hissed.
The she-wolf waited stoically, hiding a self-satisfied smirk behind her drink.
"They didn't need the numbers, lass," William rumbled in his accented baritone. The sound made Gwen's heart pound a little faster, even knowing the majority of the table could hear it. "They had me there to help them out. Do you have a problem with that?" His eyes flashed steely silver.
"Not at all," Bailey responded, flattening her smirk and tilting her neck submissively. "I was just curious," she bit out.
The salad course was a lavish display of pomegranates and pear with a honey-colored dressing drizzled on top. Gwen savored every bite, as well as the lack of conversation. When they finished, and the plates were taken away, she smiled at her attendant. The young man's returning smile froze halfway up his face.
"Um…."
His skittish and uncertain actions drew the attention of the table.
"Oh shit," Bailey exclaimed, staring at Gwen. "You're bleeding."
"I am?" Gwen brought her hand quickly to her nose and inhaled sharply. "Oh. Does anyone—oh, thank you." Deval offered his pocket square. She pressed it to her nose and discreetly peeked at the mess. It wasn't terrible. Not terrible at all. Just an innocent, tiny bright red spot on his nice white pocket square.
"You okay?" Bailey asked with more concern than Gwen anticipated.
"I'm fine. Really, I am." The dinner guests wore dubious expressions. "I've always had a sensitive sinus system that's led to a lot of nosebleeds. They never last long." She prayed this one didn't.
Gwen counted the minutes until her nosebleed abated—three minutes and fourteen seconds—and promised to return the pocket square to Deval once she had it cleaned. She felt like crawling into a hole and hiding for the rest of the evening. She shifted restlessly in her seat, the rash near her spine twinging in rebuttal. Worse still, she wasn't sure if she would be able to enjoy the next course, especially after hearing what it was.
"Would you repeat that?"
The color drained from Gwen's face as the attendants came back bearing plates filled with pristinely fanned rare meat and an artful scoop of something mashed and creamy. Not even the indulgent smell of butter and garlic could soothe her wary stomach.
"Heart," Irina repeated. "I assure you, it's quite excellent when cooked rare to medium-rare. Don't let the name put you off."
Gwen conjured up a smile, then stared at the food in front of her. Her smile fell.
It certainly looked appetizing. The meat was covered in a rich brown sauce that smelled heavenly, and the pile of mashed potatoes had small puddles of melted butter in its many crevices. Unfortunately, she couldn't forget that it was heart nor banish the scent of blood in the air. The metallic tang was making her slightly nauseous.
All around the table, forks and knives scraped against plates, and compliments were given. Not wanting to offend, Gwen cut off a small corner of heart and scooped a generous portion of mashed potatoes on top.
It was certainly edible this way. Tasty, even, but her appetite was no longer what it once was. She knew she wouldn't be able to finish the meal but picked at it regardless. As light conversation filled the room, she ruminated on the precious vial hidden in her dress. How was she going to spike Briar's drink or food? What if a chance never arose? What would Laurel say?
"So, William, I've heard your pack possesses an impressive collection of supernatural relics and a library full of first editions. Is that true?" River remarked halfway through the main course, her plate nearly empty.
"Aye." William gave a brief nod and wiped his mouth as he finished his meal. The undead had been given paper-thin pieces of heart in order to consume them. "We've been collecting for generations. It's come to be quite vast." Gwen's eyebrows rose, and he sat up a little straighter.
"And it's true your library houses books on magical maladies, demonic summonings, alchemic guides, and curses?" River continued.
Nova smacked William's arm before he could reply and frowned at him. "Your pack has all that stuff? The Wardens of Starlight would kill you for it."
William grunted and tossed his napkin onto his empty plate. "We've all those things, yes," he answered River first, then turned to smirk at Nova. "As for the precious wardens you used to be part of—the so-called 'protectors of humankind'—they don't even know the half of it. Our collection is under strict lock and key. It's a rare occurrence for anyone outside the pack to be permitted entry, let alone use, of our collection."
"Does that mean you have access to it?"
William sewed his lips shut. Irina scowled at her niece, knowing exactly where the young witch's line of questions was heading and hoping to avoid it. Tonight was meant to be a chance for William to use his supposed charm on Gwen without Roux intervention. But the girl was annoyingly tight-lipped.
"River! Manners," Irina scolded. "Oh, why couldn't you have gotten your mother's temperament? She's so much better behaved than my brother."
River didn't flinch at her aunt's ire; her inquisitive gaze focused solely on William.
"The relationship with my old pack is delicate. It's only been in recent years that we've reconciled. I couldn't say whether I would be given access to the collection."
"That must be tough." Bailey fiddled with her knife and fork, not looking at William though she spoke to him. "Being without your pack for so long and without any kind of contact."
He nodded gravely, loneliness entering his eyes. "Aye. Lycans aren't made to be alone."
River interrupted the solemn exchange between hybrid and she-wolf with a clearing of her throat. "Would it be possible for you to reach out to them on my behalf?"
"River." Aunt and niece glared at one another. "Mind yourself. William is a guest at our table, and he doesn't need you to harass him—"
William raised two fingers, halting Irina's reprimand. The female hybrid huffed and muttered something impressively offensive under her breath that made Bailey almost spit out her drink.
Gwen expected William to sport a look of annoyance but found curiosity written in the lines of his face instead.
"On what subject?"
"Curses."
William leveled River with an unimpressed frown. "You'll need to be more specific, little witch."
"Dual-natured curses." River chucked up her chin, ignoring Irina's little groan and Bailey's positively hostile glower. "I heard your family's study on the subject was prolific. They say it's why Martin Allves targeted your family."
William went rigid, but the vampyré next to him did not. "She's not wrong," Nova mock whispered. "I heard that rumor when I was a warden."
Ruby frowned good-naturedly at Nova and blocked her hand from reaching for her goblet of blood. "You've had enough blut wien, I think, my love."
Nova shrugged but didn't protest. Her hand flopped back to her lap.
"Is everyone intent on misbehaving in front of our guests?" Irina emphasized her words by pointedly looking in Gwen's direction. When no one answered, she returned her chilly scowl to her niece. "River, enough with this line of questioning. It's absolutely abhorrent for you to demand favors from a man you've only just met. Be quiet and finish your meal."
"I'm not a child."
