“Hey,” he said to be polite before turning his gaze to Olivia.
She was a different kind of heart-stopper.
“Boy,” he said, “with an extra helping of
wow.
” Her drapey gown was a blue so dark it probably could be called midnight.
Grecian in style, braided silver cords bound the dress between and beneath her breasts. The dark silk fell from there to her feet, where a banding of silver Vitul eels puddled over gladiator style sandals.
“You’re a goddess,” he said, letting his gaze run up her again. Her new eyes looked amazing with the navy, like sapphires set on fire. Her deep red hair was cool too, piled in gleaming waves on top of her head with an array of pearl pins.
“I could fix your hair as well,” the hairdresser offered, his trendy blue glasses winking. “Slick it back so you look as good as her.” For a second the offer tempted. Then James had to laugh. “No one could look as good as her. I think I’d better muddle on as I am.”
“It wouldn’t take but a minute,” the faerie said.
Olivia drew James’s attention by rubbing a spot between her eyebrows. She only did that when she was getting a headache. Come to think of it, she wasn’t acting like herself. She hadn’t said a word about his tux, or blushed when he complimented her. She looked like something had put her in a daze.
“Maybe you should go,” James said gently to the faerie. “I think my wife needs a breather. You did a good job. Do I need to tip you?” The question seemed to startled the hairdresser. “My fee has been taken care of.”
This was lucky, because James belatedly remembered he’d been kidnapped without a cent on him.
“Well, all right then.” James strode to the bedroom door and opened it.
“Thanks so much for your time.”
The faerie bowed a trifle stiffly, but he left. James looked back at Olivia and her pair of guards. The men seemed as out of it as she was.
“Jeesh,” James said. “Was that so boring you all went comatose?” Olivia sat on a chair, her hands resting limply in her lap. “What?” she asked confusedly.
James laughed and went to kiss her forehead. That hairdresser must have nattered on but good. “Thanks for looking out for her,” he said to Nico and Mark.
“Er. Yes.” Nico shook himself alert. “We’ll ... be in the hall if you need us again.”
Once the door was shut behind them, Olivia turned to him.
“We can’t forget,” she said.
“Forget what, sweetheart?”
“That we’re only pretending to like them, lulling them into complacence until we get a chance to escape.”
She seemed agitated. James crouched down in front of her. “Is everything okay? I know your heart, honey. You couldn’t have slept with Ty and Anso if you didn’t care for them some.”
“I won’t be a bad mother. Or a bad wife.”
“You couldn’t be either,” he soothed, wrapping his hands over hers. “We
are
going back. We knew that from the beginning.”
Olivia’s reminder wasn’t that different from what he’d been thinking to his reflection. Agreeing with her shouldn’t have made his stomach twist.
“Soon,” she said, nodding firmly, her gaze hanging onto his. “I’m sure we won’t have to wait long for our opening.”
* * *
At her request, James had left her alone in the guest bedroom. She lay carefully on her back on the floor-level mattress, doing her best not to crease her nice outfit. Her dress was exquisite, and she knew she looked nice in it. It was true she didn’t live for parties, but she’d have plenty of people looking out for her at this one. Nothing should have troubled her. She
wanted
to go home. If her gut was correct, and the chance to do that came quickly, she shouldn’t feel anything but happy.
She turned her wedding ring around her finger, a gesture she hadn’t made in a while. The faintest whiff of cocoa and carnations teased her nose.
Happy
, she thought. Soon James and she would be as happy as they were before they came here.
A rap sounded on the door and Anso walked in. He was dressed for the celebration in a crisp ice blue uniform, the sort that made women think a wrinkle wouldn’t dare come near it. A handful of ribbons decorated the front, so she supposed he must have served in Oceana’s armed services at some point. Olivia drank in the sight of him despite her intent to let him go. He carried his straight tall figure with an endearing hint of hesitance. His beautiful worried eyes enlivened his kind face.
He smiled as he looked down at her. “You chose Queen Beatrice’s gown. She built Our Lady of the Waves and donated it to the church.”
“That’s what Mrs. Bonn told me. She said Beatrice also founded a school for music that children still attend today.”
“There’s a famous portrait of her in their lobby wearing this dress.” Anso sat beside her on the low bed. She felt so good with him close to her, especially when he took her hand and pulled it onto his thigh. “James said you weren’t feeling well.”
“I’m fine. Just a little nervous about spending the night in a crowd of people I don’t know.”
“We’ll look out for you,” he said.
Unable not to, she sat up. Anso stroked his fingers around her face. “I’d like to give you a gift.”
“A gift ...”
“It’s traditional for a man to give one to his mate. Under the circumstances, this one is appropriate.”
“It’s not a sardine, is it?” she blurted, making him laugh. She hadn’t meant to joke, but she couldn’t deny she liked amusing him.
“It’s not a sardine.” He pulled a small silk bundle from his breast pocket and laid it in her hand. Olivia opened it curiously.
A ring in the shape of a sea dragon lay inside. Tiny rubies glowed in its eyes, and its half-folded wings were so detailed they seemed ready to lift off.
Enchanted, Olivia stroked the wings wonderingly. Miniscule gold claws marked their finials.
“My ancestor Conjugus gave this ring to his queen. It’s designed to fit on your middle finger. It won’t interfere with your wedding ring.” When Olivia looked up, the surface of his deep blue eyes glimmered with emotion.
“You put it on,” she whispered, too tight-throated to speak loudly.
He slid the dragon onto her finger, its curly tail cleverly formed into the band.
“There. That looks just right on you.”
His voice was choked up too. He’d dropped his eyes and wasn’t lifting them again.
This is wrong
, she thought.
He deserves to be loved
.
He patted her hand and started to pull away.
Olivia caught his face and kissed him as gently as she could. He returned the kiss the same way. His arms slid around her, his head tilting to the side. His tongue caressed hers, more tenderness in the exchange than sex. His lips were silk against hers.
The kiss ended as gently as it began.
“I’ll wait for you,” he said softly. “Whenever you’re ready to love me back, that will be all right.
“I’ll never be the
only
one who loves you,” seemed the best thing she could say in return.
He liked the answer, some of the melancholy leaving his eyes as his faint smile grew. “You,” he said, “are as wise as you are loyal.”
* * *
Lit by thousands of beeswax tapers instead of electric lights, the place was half medieval fortress, half Renaissance palazzo. Thanks to the number of foreign guests, its interior was air-filled. Many round black-clothed tables filled the hall itself, which towered to a dramatic painted ceiling two stories above their heads.
“Saint” Poseidon and his angels cavorted in the murals there.
Belikov, the event’s designer, had leaned unabashedly on the mini-dragon theme. Huge museum-quality tapestries depicted the city’s mascots in presumably famous scenes from Oceana’s history. Ice sculptures were carved in the shape of dragons, ditto for napkin rings. The hors d’oeuvres, which were almost too pretty too eat, offered shrimp (the Meimeyo’s favorite snack) in more combinations than James could count. The twelve-man orchestra in the balcony loft, along with all of the servers, were dressed in Meimeyo black and gold.
James wouldn’t call this decorating with a feather, but the overall effect was striking.
He munched on a plate of shrimp things as he wandered the chattering crowd.
He’d gotten separated from the royal party early on - not that it mattered. Olivia and Anso were the couple people wanted to see tonight. James didn’t mind. There was plenty of sightseeing for him to do. He wanted to soak up everything he could while he had the chance.
A pale handsome man caught his attention by leering at him from beside a tall torchier. When James got a better look at his smile, he couldn’t restrain a double take. Those were fangs the man was flashing. He must be an actual vampire.
James almost turned to look again when someone elbowed his sleeve. “Better not,” said a pleasant voice. “Vampires take staring as an invitation to make your acquaintance.”
James was being addressed by a reasonably tall, thirtyish fellow with medium brown hair. His clothes were shabbier than most of the people’s here, but he looked nice in them. His eyes were gray, his nose crooked at the bridge. All in all, he had the sort of face that made men and women comfortable.
“I won’t offer to shake,” said the man, holding up his wine glass and plate to excuse himself, “but I’m the mayor of Resurrection.”
“Pleased to meet you,” James said. “I’m -”
“I know,” said the mayor.
James had the disconcerting impression that the mayor knew a good deal more than his name. On closer inspection, the man’s eyes weren’t gray, they were silver. They were difficult to look away from, but James decided he ought to.
More than vampires might be able to spell him with their gaze.
“So,” he said, resisting an impulse to clear his throat. “Resurrection is the Pocket city outside of Manhattan.”
“That’s right. Because we’re drylanders, we don’t get many chances to hobnob with wereseals.”
What are you
besides
a drylander
? James wondered, but it seemed rude to ask. Not a mundane, he didn’t think.
“Those are werewolves,” said the mayor, gesturing with his wineglass toward a group of laughing men. “They traveled with me from Resurrection. You wouldn’t believe how antsy they were in the submarine.” Seeming to enjoy playing guide, he pointed at another table. “Those are the doughty naturalists from the Oceanic Wildlife Patrol. You can tell they’re not used to dressing up by how often they tug their collars. And over there, as you can see for yourself, are the creme de la creme of Oceana’s fae.”
The faeries were impossible to miss. Because they all sat together, their combined glow formed a nimbus around the group, as if they were one big candle flame. Though they drew attention by simple virtue of their sparkling beauty, they seemed reserved compared to the other guests, who were gradually loosening up enough to mingle outside their own races.
“Do they have wings?” James took the opportunity to ask.
“They do,” the mayor confirmed. “They keep them folded close to their backs most times, so as not to spoil the fit of their clothes. And for modesty, I gather, like Victorian women not letting down their hair. They extend their wings at home, of course, and they’re quite dazzling.”
“You’ve been to Faerie?”
“I have. It’s a fascinating land but not as ... Elysian as many folks presume.” James had a zillion questions then. Unfortunately for his hope of having them answered, the orchestra began to play.
“Ah,” said the mayor, gazing up at the balcony. “This is a lovely waltz. I must find the best perch to watch the dancing.”
He drifted away, leaving James to stare after him. As he did, he spotted Anso’s cousenemy, Lady Ellice. Barring evidence that she’d conspired to release the Meimeyo, he assumed she’d had to be invited. She stood among a group of gorgeously garbed royals, their gowns and cummerbunds as bright as peacocks.
Her face was a haughty mask, the rigid pride of her posture easy to interpret. It galled her to attend this celebration honoring not just Anso’s mating to someone else but Olivia’s rescue of the Meimeyo. Instead of being cast aside by popular demand for bringing a curse with her, Olivia was the city’s new darling. Lady Ellice and her clique looked as standoffish as the pureblood fae, and appeared to be having as little fun. James smiled to himself at that. Ruining the bitch’s evening was the least they could do.
And then something seemed to entertain them. They put their heads together and whispered behind their hands, their exotically colored eyes turning as one in the direction of the dance floor. Malicious glee radiated from all of them.
Curious, James turned to seek the object of their attention. Somewhat to his shock, he found Ty standing at the edge of the gracefully whirling dancers. A plump young woman in an unfortunate ruffled orange gown had turned her head sharply away from him. The disapproving look on her face said he’d offended her. Ty’s cheeks were swiftly going red, his spine as stiff as Ellice’s had been.
Her
mood was clearly improving. She let out a burst of laughter that turned more than one pair of eyes to her.
“Well,” she said just loud enough to hear. “Looks like even the rejects are beginning to reject Otari.”
* * *
Generally speaking, he liked parties. There always seemed to be a hookup or three to make. He’d told Anso not long ago that he was one of six on Ty’s dance card.
The other five were here tonight. Four had approached him with salacious offers, none of which he’d been the least enticed to accept.
Interestingly, they’d been suggesting private assignations. Once upon a time, being seen to share the favors of the future king’s best friend would be half the point. Ty guessed his cachet had lost its glitter now that James Forster was the frontrunner to join the king’s triad.
Cam Spence had actually had the nerve to ask if Ty thought Olivia’s husband swung his bat both ways. Ty had advised him not to attempt running those bases.