Page 5

Chapter 4

The Crystal Charcuterie

~DOLLY~

We’re immediately swept up in the festive murmur of a hundred costumed guests, all making actual merry . I don’t know how else to describe it. The air feels giddy.

Vel’s eyes ping to me through his mask. “You can feel it?”

“I mean, just the energy.”

“Huh.”

There really isn’t a bird. At least, not that I can see. This seems to be a reception area, an angular dreamscape haunted by teal, magenta, and fuchsia light. Romantic, futuristic, and maybe just a teensy bit sinister. There’s a darkness to the palette. Like if this were a movie, these might not be the good guys.

Masked people sweep across glossy mahogany floors in what I now recognize as circus attire, checking in with attendants and admiring the architecture, awe-inspiring even in a magical world. The room is a flurry of sequins, glitter, and expensive, costume-like fabrics, with feathers dropped by guests littering the floor. Every color imaginable is here—and some I’ve never seen.

“Terrywinkle,” Velis notes, nodding to a feather-adorned couple dressed in a color that reminds me of a warm rock. My gaze catches on a suit that looks like how it feels to breathe. “Aquellia,” he murmurs from the corner of his mouth .

I’m surprised the translator magic has words for colors that don’t exist on Earth.

The reception hall is as large as a theater, with delicate metal framework between hexagonal windows holding back the wild jungle. Psychedelic lighting distorts our view, and the limbs crawling over the birdcage-shaped dome appear dark and monstrous—like we’re trapped in a trinket abandoned in a giant’s garden. Or perhaps, like we’re inside a greenhouse overtaken by man-eating vines.

“That’s not far off,” Vel comments, distracted, probably not even realizing I didn’t say it out loud. “They do eat men. Women too.”

“You did say this place was magically reinforced, right?”

“We’re in the center of a dryad’s trap,” Vel explains, pulling me closer to the glass—which he literally just warned me has man-eating plants beyond—to hide me from any prying eyes that might have noticed our arrival.

I have to wonder if my scent isn’t being fully masked. Every time we encounter other people, there’s whispering.

“That’s not because you’re human,” Velis says absentmindedly, his eyes scanning the dark shapes beyond the windows. “It’s because you’re attractive.”

My dense and dreamy mate.

“What’s a dryad’s entrapment?” I ask. The glass feels unnervingly warm beneath my fingers, almost as if it’s alive, breathing.

“It’s part of the natural magic protecting this place—like the flowers over our lodgings that keep out unwanted guests. They crop up attracted to the energy inside, and some use it as a form of security. Anyone who can’t teleport must be escorted through a portal by palace staff. My access is temporary and will expire when we leave.”

“So we should probably stay under the radar?”

“That’s right,” he says.

“And you’re kinda important?”

He smiles with a touch of his signature bashful pride. “Kinda.”

A petal the size of an armchair is pressed up against the glass beside us, and I swear there’s a small, winged person sleeping deep within.

“We’ll go glass gazing after we check out the buffet, okay?” Velis says fondly, relishing that he’s going to get to experience so many things with me for the first time. Dating a genie is like dating an elf on Christmas morning. But I know better than to mention Christmas around Velis. He’ll only play dumb.

One side of the hall hosts the large portal Velis mentioned, against the far wall and made of light. On the other side stands a large statue, a feather but with the end turning into an apparent flame. I see that symbol built into the décor elsewhere and frequently. It must have special meaning here.

The circus attire is pleasantly flamboyant, like a celebration for morally gray jesters. Around us, attendants and servers flit about, tending to guests’ needs and offering finger foods, directions, and small cushions balancing pills.

I’ve said it before: Mythical creatures are super into drugs.

Velis declines the pills but points to a tray of terrywinkle -colored dessert glasses on a nearby cart. “Want a drink?”

“What is it?”

“Health elixir. Ridiculously expensive and reserved for the elite.”

“Like . . . from a video game?”

Velis looks like I’ve just asked him about competitive button collecting. Except he conjured me that knock-off GenieBoy handheld, so he definitely knows what video games are.

He’s a terrible flirt.

His grin broadens.

He has freckles too, you know, budding along his surfer-boy nose.

He rolls his eyes, like that’s one compliment too many, and swipes two goblets from a passing waiter’s tray, handing me one like we’re cruising a lame high school party together. “I do need to note how effortlessly you’ve been reading my mind lately,” he says, half-amused, half-annoyed.

“Not a mind reader. You’re just transparent.”

“If you were a djinn, you’d realize how ridiculous that sounds coming from someone like you.”

“I take back what I said about your cute freckles,” I threaten.

“You never said it. Doesn’t count,” he sasses back.

Touché.

It’s hard not to smile at one another as we ‘cheers.’ The liquid in the goblet is wispy. I wait for Velis to toss his back before tossing mine. A zip of energy runs down my spine, and with the next blink, everything feels a little different. My vision is sharper, my lips moister, my hangnails unhanged.

“Full health. I feel it.”

“Come, my lady.” Twinkling through his bandit mask, Velis slips away but catches my fingers like he’s going to pull me after him into a secret passage beneath a staircase somewhere. I feel a twinge of nervousness because I’m continually reminded of how hot and charming my boyfriend—I mean fiancé—I mean husband is and the fact that he can feel the way he’s still giving me butterflies after all these days in genie love. Despite the bustle of a hundred arriving guests around us, each dressed more fantastically than the last, and despite the many statues and gardens and scantily clad waitresses in leotards balancing delicious-looking desserts, Vel’s gaze is warmly on me. “This is going to be fun.”

“Someday, I’m going to take you to a human amusement park so I can experience first times with you too,” I say.

“Amusement park ? I picture a place with trees and people watching comedy performers.”

There could be trees.

There could be a comedy show.

“Five percent right. Good job.”

He looks like he can’t imagine what else it could be. “We do owe a visit to your mother. And you said there were more places like the salty place. Maybe our next vacation should be on Earth.”

“Okay,” I twinkle back.

He escorts me toward a towering set of glass doors, open and stretching to the top of the hall. A velvet-clad bouncer with dark green skin and shoulder-length braids, swinging at odds with one another, stands at the entrance. I’m not sure what species he is, but I assume this is a security check.

He asks about the color of Vel’s hair. Then his eyes flash like he’s taking a picture of us, the magic cement gray and unlike the genie blue I’ve come to expect.

He steps aside to allow us entry, and I swear one of his braids reaches after me as we walk through the massive doors.

“A gorgon,” Velis says preemptively. “They’re record keepers. Their gaze captures time.”

“Time?”

“Seven-dimensional images.”

“And his hair?”

“Snakes.”

I’m half waiting to see if the truth oath enacts. It doesn’t, and I whip around to see if it’s true. The gorgon’s hair looks more braid than snake, but they don’t look all braid, and they definitely look a little serpentine.

“It’s like a snapshot of this moment that can be interacted with in the future,” Velis calls my attention back to him.

“Like time travel?”

“Not exactly. More like a static moment in reality. Many gorgons work in security; we’ve never had one, but they’re known to be highly effective. Their hair never sleeps.” He eyes up said snakes as we pass.

Medusa may have been a cop. Humans have everything so wrong.

The entryway opens into the rest of what is aptly named a palace. It’s geometric, the ceiling a complex, many-sided shape. The floor is made of dark wood so polished, it’s glassy; the windows are painted that same fusion of elegantly sinister colored light; and all around the space are sitting areas where guests socialize in velvet-lined subterranean lounge pits like we’re at a ’70s swingers’ party for millionaires. There are goblets milky with nectar—the clear drug of choice in this realm—half-drunk or tipped over, masks removed from rosy faces and resting in a puddle of wine.

The masks, not the faces.

“It’s a little early for people to be this wasted, isn’t it?” I ask.

“There’s a reason they start these things so early. Dinners always turn into overnights. Gives those who aren’t ready for it time to get theirs in and then get out before things get weird.”

“Weird?” I question.

“Loose.”

“ Loose ?

“Sexual. Ritual .”

Of course.

The vibe here is the same as that giant foyer—secretive and dark, yet filled with bizarre, fantastical elements, like a subterranean nightclub where only the mega-rich make the list. In a nearby banquet hall, guests graze at long, castle-style dining tables overflowing with pastries and chocolate-covered everything. The ‘buffet’ is an enormous charcuterie spread, featuring at least a hundred different cheeses.

I don’t know why, but I was expecting a ball. This is a gala . Mild, posh mood music fills the massive space like magical surround sound. It’s not bad. From what I’ve learned, otherworldly music is pretty banging.

“Very few of your songs ever rhyme, though,” I note.

“That would be because they’re being translated for you,” Vel hums back.

Right.

One side of the room is a brilliant fountain—a glossy jade statue of a massive creature of lore I’ve yet to encounter. It has clawed feet. It takes up nearly half the palace wall. And its face legitimately looks like a collection of dicks.

There’s a snort from my date. “It’s a cthulhu , Dolly. And that’s true to size, by the way.”

“Well, that’s terrifying. What realm are those from?” He doesn’t answer, pausing long enough for me to understand—“Oh my god, they’re from Earth?!”

He tucks his mouth inward, like he knows he’s been caught. “Come on.”

Like young lovers at a carnival on a cool summer night, Velis walks backward away from me with a swagger in his step. No sign of that vessel. No sign of Arrik. Vel’s confidence that we’re safe here is contagious—he wants this to be one of those memorable nights. A top ten-er.

I’m grateful for the masks. They offer a sense of anonymity, like I can blend in more easily, even if the stares never fully stop. In this sea of shrouded eyes, many are blue—predominantly djinn with icy gazes. I could easily spot Vel’s eyes in a crowd, but would I recognize anyone else’s?

Vel’s hand is always on me—my elbow, my shoulder, my back. Large, warm, unyielding, like an anchor of safety, ready to whisk me away at the slightest hint of triplet interruption.

“Mbuft are those lights?” I ask, my cheek full as I sample an unfamiliar fruit, speared with a tiny skewer. Throughout the room, in-ground planters host miniature trees that resemble cherry blossoms, but instead of leaves, clusters of glowing blue orbs cling to the branches like delicate, fuzzy cotton candy.

“They’re a kind of sprite, beloved by both djinn and Celestials,” Velis explains, letting out a zippy, beckoning whistle in the direction of the tree. One of the glowing orbs detaches and drifts downward—a tiny, luminous creature with two fluffy antennae protruding from its blue-tinted body, like a whimsical bug.

“ Shut up, that thing is adorable ,” I say in one long breath, instinctively cupping my hands to catch the little sprite .

Velis leans in smoothly, his hands folded behind his back as the blue glow reflects off our skin. “What’s your filter name for this one?” His energy is spirited, his gaze playful in the dream-like light.

“A, It’s ‘magic frost.’ And B, I never said the filters thing out loud. Which makes me question just how long you have been listening in. When we met, you insisted it was only moods.”

“A, When we met, I wanted you to let your guard down. And B, It’s gotten easier as time has gone on.” He chuckles lightly. “And C, It usually is moods. It’s never been like this with anyone else. I thought it was a soulmate thing, but given that Arrik can read you as well as I can, maybe it’s a duration thing. Beckham’s alarmingly astute, too. It’s possible even Jeb can feel you. So maybe it’s a Dolly thing.”

Me and my evil ex-genies.

The bug-like creature hovers over my hands for a moment before jetting off to join a cluster above us, where similar brittle vines crisscross the ceiling in a mismatched array, brought to life only by the glowing sprites.

“Do you think in ten years we’ll all spend the holidays together?”

“The holidays?”

See? I should have known better than to bring up anything Santa-adjacent. Velis only cocks his head like he doesn’t compute.

Yeah, right. Though I do acknowledge this is one of the few ways he can play with me, given that he can’t lie, use sarcasm, or tell jokes without immediately proclaiming them as jokes afterward.

“You know who Santa is, don’t you, you son of a bitch?” I whisper.

“I don’t know why you expect me to remember one human,” he whispers back with a gleam in his eye. “There’re literally hundreds of you.”

“Hundreds and hundreds.”

We drift into a group of people dancing. Swathes of them move across the polished floor laid between drunken lounge pits and various refreshment stations.

I know Velis can nightclub dance. I’ve seen him. It’s not usually my scene.

But he takes my hips and guides me to him, then begins to flirt with my body in ways that make me feel nervous anew. The layers of my skirt feel thin against his manhood .

“What the fuck?”

Where his sleeping mass lies.

“Ew, Dolly. That’s cringe.”

I turn to find him smiling, his nose wrinkled in playful amusement. His hands follow the fitted curves of my waist, the drugged air adding a hazy, surreal quality to the frame of my vision.

“They don’t even warn you, do they?” I say, waving a black-gloved hand through the scented vapor.

“It’s just kind of expected,” Velis replies, his hips rolling against mine in sync with the electric rhythm.

This night is turning out to be pretty fun. The food is great. The drink is bubbly. Vel’s touch feels like heaven as he holds me close, his fingers roaming over me with a confidence that makes everything else fade away, like we’re the only two in the room.

It may even be a top ten-er. The air is alive with the bump of music, the hum of life. I’m not sure if any of these people are royalty, but this is a banging party.

Just as I’m about to tap Vel for a water break, a change in the atmosphere sweeps through—an overwhelming scent, like a breeze run through flowers and honey, floods our space. It feels like I’m suddenly standing in a summer meadow.

Velis leans over, voice low with knowing. “It’s that vampire over there.”

I instantly slip in closer to his particularly handsy hands.

“Defanged,” he continues. “It’s the only way they can leave their world. Once they’re without fangs, they can only drink filtered plasma. They’ll have no interest in you.”

“Huh.”

The woman has warm ochre-toned skin, light brown eyes, and her hair wrapped up in a scarf.

“Do they all smell nice?”

Velis cracks a grin beneath his mask. “To humans. By the way—” He casually conjures a glass of water for me and guides us toward the mouth of a corridor flanked by two imposing guards. “Can you feel what’s beyond there?”

“I’m not the one who senses things through closed doors, Vel,” I tease, taking a sip.

“It’s their nexus.”

I focus, tuning into the energy, just as Velis adds—

“For some reason, it’s at core neutral.”

A punch of recognition hits me in the gut. I do feel something—now that I’m homing in on it.

It’s been fun, sweetheart.

The last time I encountered this energy was the night my bond with Arrik shattered.

I glance at Velis to see if he’s picking up on my reaction, but my attention shifts as a hush rolls over the party. The lights dim, casting the room in deeper, more ominous hues.

Around the outer wall of the bird-cage-like structure, a spiral staircase begins to glow with silver light, the radiance climbing swiftly to the top before erupting in a shower of glittering sparks. At the summit, a gallery showcases a couple in the most dramatic circus attire I’ve seen all night. The woman stands tall, slender in a gown of lavender feathers, the voluminous layers of tulle propping up her ballgown skirt. Beside her, the man wears a pale blue suit, with enormous wings fastened between his shoulder blades.

“Dolly,” Velis whispers.

I keep my eyes on the couple, assuming they must be the fabled royalty of this palace. “Yeah?”

“They aren’t fake.”

That snaps my full attention to Velis. “The wings? As in, the king of Célesteen has actual wings ? ”

“The king wouldn’t attend an affair like this. Social appearances are left to the prince—and his current mistress.”

The prince is an angel?!

“Do all Celestials have wings?” I ask.

“Technically, yes. But only the royal line is allowed to display them. It’s a symbol of status here.” He pauses, then shoots me a suspicious glance. “Some of my ex-masters really liked guys with wings.”

I mean, I’m not opposed.

The prince and his mistress stand on an elevated platform that appears to be made of silvery light, wearing headpieces much grander than anyone else in the room. They look like a feat of balance. Theatric. Operatic.

It’s amazing.

“Are there other Celestials here?”

“None with wings out. But yeah, there’s one over there.”

As I scan the crowd for the Celestial Velis pointed out, the energy in the room shifts. Those velvet-lined swingers’ pits are starting to look more chaotic, the temperature rising with the increasing intensity of the atmosphere. The Celestial Vel pointed out is no exception. His mask is still on, but his jacket and shoes are off, and he’s telling a wild story in the center of equally messy guests.

He’s surprisingly modern, groomed like a human in his forties. Handsome. His hair is stark white, cut with a fresh fade and a chic hard part. He was wearing sequin-adorned loafers and a fringed suit before discarding them earlier.

“Earth is a favorite of the Celestials. Many have distant relatives hiding among humans they never get to see,” Velis explains.

“How much conscious control do they have of their wings? Do they incorporate them into their daily life? Or are they only used for flight?”

“I actually don’t know. Celestial lore is protected, meaning as ambassadors, we aren’t privy. But we can join the receiving line if you’d like to see the prince’s wings up close,” Velis says, always amused by my curiosity.

I’d actually love to see the prince’s wings up close.

Tossing grins back through the crowd with Peter-Pan-like energy, Vel leads me to the end of a long receiving line that wraps around the room. The air feels thicker, hazier, like actual lust has manifested and is swelling in the hall. The corners are turning darker.

It’s all wildly on the verge of an orgy.

“We’ll head back after greeting the prince,” Velis says, his hand on my back, his posture confident as he takes note of the shifting energy. As we pass through the crowd, I spot several more who might be Celestial natives.

“Do they all have white hair?” I ask.

“Unpigmented hair, yes. And they’re typically darker-skinned than djinn—for the pure-bloods. Mixed, they could be anything. And they have cool eyes.”

“How so?”

He won’t elaborate, wanting me to see for myself.

“You know what I find strange? ALL Celestials have white hair? And ALL leprechauns have green?”

“Humans are the only race I know that willfully changes hair color. Most people keep theirs natural.”

Says the boy who changes his hair from blue to yellow on a whim.

He gestures to his djinn-blue hair. “This is different. Mine’s tied to racial identity. For purebloods, it’s another status symbol. Cal’s hair is noticeably not ‘greenie green.’ I get away with masking the blue because of my family. It’s an identifier.”

Privilege exists everywhere.

I move forward in line with him, arms crossed. “I feel like I come off as ignorant constantly. Like, ‘greenie’? Is that racist? Am I even allowed to say that?”

His eyes smile. “Greenie is what they’re called on our maps and in our textbooks. If it sounds racist, that could be the translation magic at work.”

I never thought about that.

“And the word ‘genie’?”

“There’s nothing to translate with that one. ‘Genie’ is just a human-made word that found its way into our world. I think that’s the real reason the elders forbade our parents from using it. And no, you don’t come off as ignorant. Just curious. You’ve only been here a few weeks. I was in the human world for months, and I’d say we’re about even.” A flutter kicks my stomach as his arm slips around my shoulder, and he leans in like he’s telling me a secret. “Besides, I like teaching you things.” His eyes are glassy, his tone impish. I think he might be a little buzzed.

This night has actually been really fun.

“I’m glad to hear that, my lady.”

He surprises me with a confident lean into a full kiss, his hand holding my cheek as he makes it count. I place my gloved fingers over his and glimpse seconds of what life would feel like with him, without any fear of anyone or anything or any other love. The air is loud with ever more chaotic music, party guests laughing and catcalling like we’re on Bourbon Street at midnight.

Vel’s gloved knuckle strokes my cheek as the kiss ends. “I love you.”

It’s almost hard to remember that just this morning, Evaris was standing on our beach, searching for phantom voices and uninvited bottles.

Maybe it was Arrik after all. Maybe he got the hint.

Velis kisses me again, a little rougher, a little more intentional, a little more passionately. As we wait our turn to greet the winged prince and his mistress, we’re practically making out, influenced by the energy in the air, the various fantasy beverages throbbing in our veins, our unbridled desire for one another. His chest is warm through his suit. Fancy. Firm.

He kisses me like he’s tasting me anew each time. Claiming me. Savoring my flavor as I savor his .

His hand slides down my back, drawing me in even tighter. I wouldn’t usually kiss in public, but that seems to be the entire point of this party. I’m pretty sure those velvet-lined pits are actually orgy pits, and now I’m regretting casually rubbing my hands along the soft seating in them earlier.

“ Your brain is chaos, Master, ” Velis whispers directly into said brain.

I open my eyes briefly to capture his fondness for me but am distracted by a fuzzy light in the corner of my eye. Then another, and another, until it’s clear I’m no longer giving Vel’s mouth my full focus.

I pull away from him just in time to see ten thousand sprites lift from the planters in the room, leaving the trees barren as they drift through the air, transforming the entire birdcage-shaped hall into a flurry of fantastical, firefly-like light that dances and glitters against the dark windows.

Velis rubs his chest as if to absorb my reaction, the orbs swirling around us like drifting snow. It’s beautiful.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you this,” I murmur absently, watching the wild party hush under the influence of a magical display. “But I’m proud of you.”

“You’ve told me that many times, Doll,” Velis replies.

“Specifically, I’m proud of the way you’re moving forward. Dealing with threats, ambassador-ing princes—you’re really settling into this role. Before we go back, I want to set a goal—some idea of what I want out of my new life. Besides you, I mean. You’re a big part of it all, but I need to start thinking about what I’m going to do. I know the ‘lady’ has duties, but how much of that will they really want me involved in?”

His hand on my waist tightens slightly, a protective reflex. “I want you involved.”

“I know. But I need something else. It’s like life after winning the lottery—I still need a purpose.”

“I understand,” he says, his voice steady. “My offer stands. Whatever you want to do, wherever you want to go—I’ll help you get there.”

I lean into him, letting him kiss my forehead as he holds me close. The sprites continue to drift around us, but my thoughts are fixed on the future. Balance. The next phase of my life needs to be about balance.

The moment of awe from the party begins to fade, and the guests below return to their revelry. It’s quite incredible to think that there are greenies, genies, and secret angel boys under all those masks.

But then, I stiffen, my thoughts freezing mid-stream as a wave of shock hits me. Through the chaotic sea of masked faces, one figure stands unnervingly still, as if waiting for me to notice him. Even in a green suit and mask, he’s unmistakable.

Velis senses the shift in my emotions instantly, his fingertips sparking with electric energy as he moves into defense mode. “Where?”

“There,” I breathe, pointing directly at the illusion of Arrik.

Velis doesn’t hesitate; he leaps over the railing of the spiral staircase, bypassing the steps entirely as he lands in a crouch below. In a blur, he blitzes across the floor in the direction I indicated. I rush to the railing, but by the time he reaches the first pit, the figure has already vanished.

Undeterred, Velis extends his hand, ready to strike the area where the phantom had been, using his energy to detect any lingering presence or threat. Just as he does, I feel a sudden dryness in my throat and instinctively lift what I think is a glass of water to my lips.

Except—what’s in my hand isn’t water.

The realization slams into me just as Velis summons himself back, appearing at my side in a flash and swatting Arrik’s vessel from my fingers, mere inches from my mouth—the cursed artifact having materialized only seconds before.

Without missing a beat, Velis grips my wrist and, in one fluid motion, yanks me into the void.