Page 7 of A Touch of Gold and Madness (Celestials of Arcadia #1)

Chapter 6

Gray

“ H appy Birthday, Stoney!” A jarring punch to my biceps snatched me from paranoid thoughts, rolling my eyes at the play on my name.

“Scarlett,” I greeted with faux disinterest. “You’ve lost your touch while I’ve been gone.” I smirked at my ruby-haired friend, who looked every bit as fiery as her personality.

With a snort, she tossed her long, deep red ringlets over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t be cocky about that if I were you. Golden’s been teaching me some new techniques,” she said with a flirtatious grin.

Scarlett Kittle was a male and female’s fantasy. She stood tall with a deep tan, her green eyes stark against her long red tresses. The violet dress showcased her hourglass figure that slit from the ankle to her hip. She wore her confidence like a badge of honor, and I loved her for it.

“Ew. Thanks for making me nauseous,” I muttered loud enough for her to hear. She deepened her smirk. “Speaking of nauseous,” I said, eyeing her from my side, “where’s the ‘shine? I’m going to need it to get through this shit. ”

Scarlett chuckled, pointing to the bar at the back of the ballroom. “Let’s cause a fucking scene, Stoney. It’s your birthday, and you can cry if you want to. Or vomit on the throne. Either will do.”

Against my better judgment, the idea of pissing off Forest and most of the Kinetic kind highly appealed to me. A smile crept up my cheeks as I envisioned the night’s antics.

I felt the stares prodding me as we walked through the raucous crowd in our straight shot to the bar. Their gazes slithered over my body, threatening to penetrate the inner armor I’d constructed. The call for alcohol grew stronger.

Revels were a favored tradition amongst Kinetics. It was an excuse to dress up in formal attire and then party until our hearts combusted. Most times, they grew wild and lewd as the night progressed. I’d never been a fan of the duplicity.

The lighting dimmed, leaving behind a soft illumination from the candelabras, casting a sensual mood in the ballroom. Bodies writhed against one another to the gritty classical music. Bright colors from the currents added a multi-hued glow that emanated a club-like feel. Couples and throuples were only stopped by a layer of clothing from relishing each other’s bodies. It wasn’t fifteen minutes into the revel, and it was already quickly approaching pornographic.

Scarlett and I found ourselves lost in the mass of writhing bodies and heady energies during our trek to the bar. At the center of the dancefloor, Scarlett smacked her palm against a male’s ass while he ground his pelvis against a woman with neon-green hair. He snapped his head around to look at Scarlett with lustful eyes. Dark, swarthy skin contrasted with fiery orange hair. The neon-haired female sent Scarlett a scathing look. I noticed the orange currents zipping up her arms and neck, indicating her infrared heat magic.

Shit . I grimaced, snatching Scarlett along to our destination.

We clawed our way through the gyrating bodies. The pulsating beat of tribal drums only increased the animalistic fervor with which they moved. I felt the rhythm in my bloodstream, beckoning me to get lost in the seductive madness. Surrendering my body to the melody was a freedom I was rarely afforded. I planned to make it happen tonight with the hopes of forgetting all the recent events and what was to come.

We reached the bar at last after forcing our way through an opening at the edge of the dancefloor. Our hands clasped one another’s as our bodies were thrust against the bartop. Meeting each other’s eyes, we burst into stomach-clenching laughter.

Scarlett and I weren’t always friends. When I first began my training at age thirteen, she held the same misconceptions about me as the rest of our people. But one day, she stumbled across a private beating my father imparted upon me and realized how wrong she’d been. She took a few days to come to terms with what she’d witnessed and overheard. It had fucked up her reality and what she’d believed to be true. But with a heartfelt apology, we soon grew close during our training, making her my only friend for a few years until I met Slate and Hazel.

Scarlett’s role as the Royal Domain Emissary required her to be highly trained in combat. She was as fierce as they came with a saucy attitude to match it. As emissary, she traveled the lands to different domains throughout the continent. It was dangerous. Especially during dark times, causing the emissary position to become the most replaced in recent years.

A poke nudged my ribs. “Look at Cardinal over there,” she said, nodding in the direction of her older brother. Judging by the way he leaned into a man’s ear, he worked to pick up a hot and beefy warrior with lavender-colored hair. Cardinal bore a close resemblance to Scarlett, his short-cropped hair only a shade lighter than hers. “I bet he strikes out,” she laughed. “He can’t stand that I pull more dick than him.”

I shook my head and refaced the bar.

Scarlett slapped her hand on the bartop in quick succession to alert the bartender behind the counter. The pink-haired male looked up “Two apple pies, barkeep! We got a royal revel to blow up tonight. And you, kind sir, are going to be the detonator.” Scarlett gave him her most wicked grin.

The bartender studied us with apprehension. I watched him gauge the risk of punishment if he indulged in our plans of debauchery. Analyzing him, I searched for any cracks to exploit, refusing to be deterred from my night of fun. Noticing the green currents illuminating through the fabric of the white button-up sleeves, an idea formed.

“Hey,” I said, capturing his attention. His hazel eyes shifted to peer at me. In a lazy gesture, I propped my elbow onto the bartop while cradling my jaw in my palm. “You’re of microwave magic, right?”

The bartender nodded, his nervous eyes shifting about.

“Well, how about you let us cause a scene by continuing to shoot us some ‘shine, even if you have to sneak it…” I said, noting Scarlett next to me, casting him flirtatious looks with her green eyes. “And I’ll ensure you a secure role within the guilds where your magic would be most useful.” I watched him put his thought process on display, weighing the risks of the choice I offered. “What do ya say?”

The bartender wiped his palms against his pants. He kept glancing in nervous anticipation to where the king sat perched on his throne. “Uh…” he said and then bit his bottom lip. His deliberation tested my frayed patience. Finally, he resigned himself to a harsh breath and a sag of his shoulders. He nodded. “Fuck it. But if you get caught, it’s not my doing. I’ve been instructed to keep you sober.”

I rolled my eyes, not surprised to learn my father and Amethyst wanted to keep me sober at my birthday revel. “Got a name?”

“Vermillion. Vermillion Pringle, Your Highness. Most people just call me Mills.” Mills ran his fingers through his salmon-colored fringe, pushing it out of his eyes. He reached under the counter where he grabbed two stout tumblers.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mills,” I said as I pushed myself off the bartop, straightening my posture. “I’m sure these drinks will be extra potent, yeah?”

Mills paused his search through the stacked crates of human-made moonshine. The names of various flavors labeled the Mason jars we traded as goods. “Didn’t you say two apple pies? ”

“Aw. He’s cute, smart, and he listens. Can I keep him, Gray?” Scarlett squinted her eyes, cocking her head to the side as she made a show of appraising him, clearly envisioning him on top of her.

I chuckled at the pink tint painting Mills’s ears. “Scarlett,” I said, shoving an elbow into her ribs. “Leave the man alone. He’s got enough going against him as it is.”

Scarlett huffed out a dramatic sigh, disappointed in my response, but leaned into me and said, “I can just stick him in my pocket. Nobody will know. I swear.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “Gods above, Scar. Control your ovaries, would you?”

“Fine,” she whined. “They’re contained,” she said, resigned before sighing again as she checked out the tight-fitting, black slacks that hugged his ass.

Scarlett and I waited for Mills as he retrieved our drinks. After my failure with Griffin and the impending punishment from my father, I craved just one night of fun. One night, when regret or anxiety didn’t bombard me. The alcohol couldn’t come fast enough.

A strong energy joined us from behind. Before I could turn to investigate, Scarlett lunged for the male, throwing her arms around his neck. I leaned my back against the bar to avoid being shoved off-balance by her. A flash of hair the color of fresh snow garnered my attention.

“Cotton!” Scarlett buried her face into the side of his neck as she assaulted him with friendly affection.

With a rare smile, Cotton Sjodin embraced Scarlett in a warm hug. He stepped back to examine her at arm’s length. Olive irises darted over her face and then her body, searching Scarlett for…something. I wasn’t sure. When he appeared satisfied, he met her sea-green eyes and arched a questioning white eyebrow.

Scarlett nodded, her blood-red curls bouncing with the movement. “Yeah, I’m good, Cotton. Just happy to see my oldest friend.”

With a tilted grin, Cotton mussed the top of her hair, earning him a punch to the gut. “Cotton! Do you have any fucking idea how long it took to get my hair like this?” Scarlett growled as she fixed her tresses with a tender touch. Cotton stood in silent amusement, content with the reaction he sought from the spitfire.

“Two apple pies for the princess and—her friend,” Mills interrupted from behind.

I spun on my heels to meet the nervous bartender and said, “Careful with her, Mills. She’s cute at first, but she can be a bit stabby if poked in the wrong places.”

I snagged the tumbler closest to me, gulping down the moonshine’s liquid fire. It seemed Mills followed through and provided me with an extra potent drink. I winced as it scorched my throat but welcomed the warmth it brought my body as it settled in my stomach. A sense of calmness began to ease through me, and I sighed from the relief.

Mills bore an appalled expression at my statement. I shrugged and turned back to join Scarlett and Cotton.

Cotton was mute. No one knew why or how he’d lost his ability to speak, and I never knew him well enough to ask. I wasn’t social, so we never developed much of a friendship. We were both close with Scarlett, and that was where our bond ended.

Most people were unnerved by Cotton. Being mute heightened his observational skills, which made people feel seen on a deeper level that made them uncomfortable. It’s one of the reasons he was the Royal Domain’s Inquisitor. But coupled with his ability to see how body heat changed according to emotions during questioning, it essentially made him a living lie detector. No doubt he knew people’s secrets just from observing them.

As if noticing my presence for the first time since his arrival, he wrapped his right arm across his midsection and folded himself at the waist in a respectful bow. I offered him a grateful smile and a small wave. “Hey, Cotton.”

I tuned out Scarlett while she gushed about her training room escapades with Golden Figgaro. Cotton’s pinched expression said he shared in my disgust on the matter. Fuck Golden. He was such a pious prick so far up my father’s ass that if he wasn’t careful, he’d serve as an enema. I wished Scarlett would choose literally anyone else to get dirty with.

I tossed back large swigs from my drink, my attention drifting towards the revel . It grew more raucous and salacious with each passing moment. Couples and small groups removed themselves from the dancefloor, huddling in corners or at tables lining the opposite wall while devouring one another. They fed off each other’s energy to fuel their own, heightening their drunken and erotic euphoria.

I scanned the ballroom, finding Hazel still held hostage at Amethyst’s side. Remembering the look she’d given me, I wondered what she knew. I needed to separate her from Amethyst and find out.

I drained my drink before I realized it and turned around to request another from Mills. If I hoped to make the statement I intended for tonight, I needed much more liquid courage.

“Hey, Mills!” I called to his back.

He granted me his attention, so I raised the empty tumbler in the air and shook it so the ice clinked against the glass.

Mills nodded, his pink fringe straying into his eye, and returned to the crates stacked against the marble wall behind the bar.

As I waited, my thoughts trailed off and replayed my epic failure involving Griffin, trying to make sense of it all. It was clear there were a few loose screws in his head, judging by his unstable behavior. None of our interactions was supposed to have happened. He should be dead.

It unsettled me that I couldn’t figure out why he felt familiar, too. There was no way we’d ever met before. I wouldn’t forget a man like that. Those molten silver eyes peered at me in my mind, reminding me of my weakness. But the most plaguing question of last night was my body’s reaction to my dagger. It shouldn’t have affected me. And how the fuck had I suddenly healed, seeing as I had been in death’s embrace on the train?

A slow tingle began to spread in my limbs. I shook out my arms and adjusted my stance to help my blood flow. What was taking Mills so long? My mouth was drying up like a smoker’s skin with every breath.

And then, everything spiraled .

I gripped a numbing hand to my constricting chest as I struggled to force air into my vacuous lungs. My innards heated with each passing second. They were ablaze, every nerve-ending feeling singed.

Finally, Mills slid the tumbler of apple pie moonshine down the bar to me, his brows pinched in concern. “Thanks,” I wheezed out before I guzzled down the liquid fire to sate the severe thirst. It didn’t help. Given Mills’s worried expression, I assumed I looked as shitty as I felt.

Tunnel vision threatened to close in, while my head felt like it was in a vacuum. My muscles turned to mush, making standing an intense challenge as I barely held on to the bartop with my declining strength.

I cursed to myself as my knees buckled. Twenty-four hours hadn’t even passed since I was stabbed and recovered from the injury. What was happening to me?

My ears rang, blocking out the music and boisterous revelers. The beat morphed into my desperate pulse that throbbed in my ears, pounding the death knell of my fading life force. A hard surface slammed into my kneecaps before it caught my face. My body was numb, but like on the train, my insides felt like they were being incinerated.

I was blind, and the only sound I heard was the hammering in my head. All I could do was focus on slowing my labored breathing as panic set in. Every time I tried to grasp onto a single thought, it slipped from my reach, leaving me wheezing for its return.

I caught distorted and muffled voices through the beating drums in my ears. “Gray…” I heard. “Help me get her, Cotton…” It was difficult to place the familiar voice, mainly because it sounded like it was melting.

The darkness once again tried to claim me with a vicious snatch to its depths—more determined this time. It wouldn’t fail; its willpower was potent. The shadows’ claws sank into my soul and yanked, not before I heard a melting voice drip the words, “She was poisoned by the king.”