Page 127 of As Above, So Below

“Ask Druka, please,” I sigh, beginning down the staircase, refusing to meet her stare. “Let me know what she has to say.”

“You know what she’s going to say, Ves,” Eve calls after me.

My frown deepens.

Druka would encourage me to take advantage of the mortal in every way possible. And to my utter mortification, shimmering amusement resonates through our channel.

Light take me,please.

?????????????

A nagging feeling in the back of my mind tells me I shouldn’t go to this event. The feeling sits like a heavy weight on my stomach. A warning to stay in the temple tonight.

Or at the very least, not seehim.

Not after today.

Not after the appearance of this channel.

More than that, showing up to a royal event, invited by the king, to likely stand beside him, sends a larger message. A message I’d rather not be sending. I’m no one’s consort. Not anymore.

I’d stolen a rubber band from the kitchens, one used to bind carrots by their greens and slung it around my wrist. Every time I thought of Ryc, I pulled that makeshift bracelet back and snapped it against my skin.

If it weren’t for my fae healing, I’m pretty sure my wrist would be black and blue. Bruised to the high heavens. It hurt, but it worked. I’d lose focus on him and focus on the pain and curse myself for thinking about him to begin with.

The packages Lilith had brought contained more than Eve and I would have ever needed for one evening’s event. Four dresses, all black with silver touches and embellishments.

Black and silver being the colors of Erus, of the Witherhorn family.

Six pairs of shoes, several decorative cloaks—it was overwhelming. Mostly because it reminded me of the hells and the creature I used to be. The creature that would slither through the courts at the behest of Netharis. Rising from the chair beside the fireplace in my bedroom, I approach the standing mirror.

I look nothing like the reflection I’ve grown accustomed to since my arrival in the living realm. With Cora’s help, I’d swept my silver hair into a loose bun, keeping a few pieces free to frame my face. Black silk hugs my body, emphasizing every curve and dip of my waist and the shape of my thighs before looseningjustenough to allow for movement. This, of course, was aided by a pair of dangerously high slits in the material, each ending about mid-thigh.

The dress features a sharp, plunging neckline revealing my moonstone necklace, and continues to plummet, nearly exposing my navel. A sheer panel of transparent black organza holds the two halves of the dress together, otherwise I fear it slipping off. It’s beyond beautiful, simple enough to not be overbearing, but detailed enough to be intriguing.

Turning, the back of the dress gives me pause.

Strands of silver crystals drape across the back, catching the light and scattering it with each little movement. It glitters like moonlight across the water’s surface. The dark Malbolge runes stay mostly hidden beneath, but the trail from the base of my skull to between my shoulder blades remains openly visible.

It’s stunning. On par with the dresses I’ve worn to attend Bloodhallow, the Abyssal, or any of the other hellish celebrations. Rolling my shoulders, I release a held breath as I attempt to mentally prepare myself for what the night is going to contain.

“Good gods, you look amazing,” Eve laughs as she steps through the open bathing room door.

Turning, my eyes fall on Eve and my jaw falls open in awestrucksurprise.

Eve isgorgeous.

Her long, midnight black braided hair, usually in a high bun, cascades down her back and over her shoulders. Tiny, delicate charms and crystals dangle subtly from the braids, catching the eye with flashes of reflected light.

Her dress is cut from the same black silk, featuring a high neckline, sleeveless bodice, and a low back. Silver crystals string from the bodice over her upper arm in a similar fashion as the back of my dress. The way it clings to her figure draws my eyes to her hips, forcing me to make a‘tsk’sound as I shake my head.

“I pale compared to you,” I whisper in awe and Eve laughs.

She offers me her arm and I take it. “You ready for this?” she asks, raising a brow.

Honestly? No.

I want nothing more than to hide away from the eyes that are inevitably going to stare. I don’t want to be paraded around on a dance floor, on the arm of any creature—mortal or demon—on display as a promised prize for those who continue to serve Netharis.