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Now, as I strolled through the crowd, many of them bowed or curtsied at my passing. I scanned every face, looking for anyone I remembered, but I didn’t see anyone who had ever been rude tome in the past, or went out of their way to terrorize me. It was for the best, I supposed. I was supposed to be cultivating an image of stability, not picking fights with the courtiers.

I kept walking through the crowd, searching for Bael or Scion, or even Ambrose. In the center of the clearing, I passed by a large raised platform, and looked up at it, startled. The obsidian throne stood upon it, looking dark and menacing in the flickering light from all the wisps and candles.

I’d only seen the throne outside the castle once before, and on that occasion it had been Penvalle who sat atop it. A tiny shiver crawled down my spine, like insects, and I quickly turned my back on the throne.

As I turned, I finally caught sight of a familiar golden tent. My smile widened into a grin, and I made a beeline toward the entrance.

Suddenly an idea occurred to me, and I reached out a hand to stop a passing servant. “Excuse me.”

The girl jumped in surprise. She turned around, her blonde hair falling out of its bun, and her eyes widened with nervousness when she saw me. I wanted to tell her that she needn't bother with formality, but decided it wasn’t worth the time it would take to convince her. I’d be gone soon enough, anyway.

I pointed at the jug in her arms. “Is that wine?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“May I have it?”

She looked slightly confused, but thrust it at me anyway. “Of course, my lady.”

I thanked her and marched toward the golden tent, my jug held out in front of me.

As I stepped inside the tent, the familiar sight of silk cushions and blankets covering the ground greeted me, along with trays upon trays heaped with an array of delectable foods. The air was filled with the rich aromas of spices and roasted meats, making my stomach grumble in anticipation. The flickering light from low hanging paper lanterns cast the entire space in a glow.

The only differences from the last time I’d carried wine into this tent were the people inside. Instead of the beautiful courtiers and half-naked dancers that had once lounged upon the cushions, there was only Scion, and a handful of nameless Seelie nobles.

As I approached, Scion looked up from his conversation. He’s been chatting idly with a male I thought I might have seen around the castle once or twice, but stopped mid-word the moment he saw me.

I made a small bow, fixing him with a teasing smile. “Good evening, my lord.”

Just as I’d hoped he would, he jumped to his feet to meet me.

With a wicked smirk, I deliberately stumbled over my own feet and dropped the jug.

It spilled across the ground, splashing Scion’s expensive shoes. For a long moment he simply stared at me, seeming frozen to the spot. As he continued to stare, my confidence weakened and for a brief moment I feared I’d made a mistake.

Then, he blinked, and his eyes darkened with desire and hunger. I barely had time to register the change before his hand shot outand grabbed my upper arm in a vice-like grip and tugged me with him into the darkness.

A momentof dark disorientation later, we stepped out of the shadows onto a vaguely familiar stone balcony.

It was an open air terrace meant for gazing out over the grounds, and was probably no wider across than the average bathing room. The dark stone wall of the castle rose behind us, providing some protection from the wind. Even so. The air was slightly crisp because we were so high off the ground. Over the wind and the sounds of crickets chirping in the distance I could still hear the music and laughter from the party below.

I peered over the stone railing, and my head swum for a moment. The tiny people on the ground looked like nothing more than insects, the colorful tents like postage stamps standing out against the dark lawn.

I turned back around and leaned against the railing, smirking at Scion. “This is nice, but I must admit I’m confused. Is this really the moment to admire the view.”

He took a step closer, looming over me. His lip curled in the ghost of a sneer. When he spoke however, his voice was soft. Coaxing. “What were you hoping to accomplish with that little stunt, rebel? Do you simply enjoy provoking me?”

“Always,” I breathed.

He growled low in his throat, and his hand shot out to grip my hair tightly forcing my face up so I couldn’t look away from hiscaptivating eyes. He must have seen something in my expression that he didn’t like—or maybe liked too much—because his fingers tightened, all but yanking my hair out by the root.

“Did you want all those people to see me punish you? Maybe you want me to make you get on your knees to lick my boots in front of all those people?”

I shrugged, feigning disinterest. “You couldn’t force me to do anything I don’t want to do, even if you tried,” I hissed.

“True.” His eyes lit up and his mouth curved into a satisfied smile. “But I think you’d want me to. I could have fucked your mouth right there and you would have loved it.”

I let out an involuntary whimper and Scion grinned like a wolf flashing its jaws to its prey.