Page 19

Chapter Nineteen

L innea stood before the polished metal mirror in her chambers, applying the final touches to her appearance for the evening's reception. The fabric tent and cushions were gone, replaced once more by the austere stone walls and rigid furnishings expected of the chancellor's private quarters. She missed the warmth of the draped fabric, the gentle jingling of tiny bells, the fluffy furs beneath her feet—but she knew she couldn't keep such obvious reminders of the Dothvek culture on display. Not when so much depended on maintaining appearances.

Her fingers moved through her dark hair, arranging the loose curls that cascaded down her back. It was a more sensual style than she typically wore in public, where her hair was usually pinned severely away from her face. Tonight was different. Tonight was about appearing approachable to the Crestek elite. Seducing them into backing her, so to speak.

She was convinced that the dissent bubbling at the edges of their city was fueled not by the common people but by the ruling class who resented her power. The noble families had never expected a female chancellor, especially not the sister of the disgraced Riz. If she and Zexx could charm them, they would be less inclined to incite grassroots rebellions against the peace accord, and then she could work on winning the support of the masses through more practical measures.

Her gown for the evening epitomized the paradox of Crestek society—the rigid formality displayed in public contrasted with the sensuality celebrated behind closed doors. The fabric was nearly transparent, clinging to her curves like water, with her breasts pushed up by the snug bodice and her legs revealed beneath diaphanous layers that shifted with her every movement. It was typical attire for Crestek females at private gatherings, though it would be hidden beneath voluminous cloaks when moving through public spaces.

Their society had developed behind stone walls and thus its people had developed a similar approach to fashion. No one would dare appear in public without being fully cloaked, the color indicating their status. But beneath the cloaks, females wore revealing dresses. They made strategic matches but openly took many lovers. It was one of the many layers of hypocrisy that Linnea disliked about her people.

A knock at her door interrupted her preparations. "Enter," she called, assuming it was K’Nar coming to give her a final report about the attendees.

When the door opened, her breath caught. Zexx stood in the doorway, transformed by formal Crestek attire. How was it possible he looked even more dangerous in clothing befitting a scribe? Slate blue pants hugged his powerful legs, a cream-colored tunic fell below his waist, and a sleeveless black cloak with gilded detailing draped elegantly over his broad shoulders.

Despite the outfit, there was something untamable about him—a primal energy that no amount of Crestek finery could disguise. The contrast between his civilized appearance and the wild intensity in his eyes made her pulse quicken.

"Chancellor," he said formally, though his gaze traveled over her with such heat that the title seemed absurd.

"Ambassador," she replied, equally formal despite the flush rising to her cheeks.

He closed the door behind him, crossing the room in three long strides. "Is this what Crestek females wear to parties?" he asked, his voice dropping low as he circled her slowly.

She turned with him, meeting his gaze boldly. "It is. Particularly among the elite."

"And the males? Do they approve of their females displaying themselves so... generously?"

She smiled, recognizing the jealousy lurking beneath his question. "Crestek females have their pick of men, Ambassador. As you know, there are fewer of us due to the illness that took so many females from both our populations. Many Crestek females take multiple lovers, even the ones with mates. It's not uncommon."

Zexx growled low in his throat, the sound so possessive that she felt it resonate through her body. He stepped closer, his hands finding her waist through the thin fabric of her gown.

"I do not wish for you to take any lover but me," he said, his thumbs tracing small circles on her hips.

She laughed softly, delighted by his reaction despite herself. "I won't. I'm far too busy to manage multiple males." Then, more seriously, she added, "But I'm pleased you want me for yourself."

"Want? No, Linnea." His grip tightened slightly. “Desire. Need. Crave. These are better words."

She wasn't accustomed to such raw possessiveness from men. Crestek males tended to approach relationships with cool practicality, knowing they were easily replaced in a female's affections and could hardly demand exclusivity. But this primal side of Zexx—this absolute certainty that she was his and his alone—stirred something equally primitive within her.

"Thank you for agreeing to this reception," she said, changing the subject before she could be tempted to suggest they skip the party entirely. "I know you would not choose a party for the elites.”

“This approach seems... inefficient," he admitted. “Mingling with a few dozen highborns rather than showing myself to hundreds of citizens."

She smoothed a non-existent wrinkle from his cloak. "Trust me. If we can win over the upper class, the rest of the Cresteks will follow. They may not admit it, but they take their cues from the elite. Besides, this controlled setting allows us to present you as sophisticated and cultured—not the savage barbarian they expect."

Zexx raised an eyebrow. "And that is what you want? For me to appear tamed?"

"For tonight, yes," she said, meeting his gaze. "Play the role of the civilized diplomat, and tomorrow I'll personally take you through the market quarter where the people can see you."

The door opened without warning, and K’Nar entered, stopping short when he saw Zexx already in her chambers. His eyes darted between them, calculation evident in his expression.

"Chancellor, the guests are arriving," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "It's time."

She stepped back from Zexx, smoothing her gown. "The Dothvek ambassador came to escort me to the reception," she explained, though she doubted K’Nar believed the convenient lie.

"How... chivalrous," her adjunct responded dryly.

The three of them departed her chambers and ascended the final spiral toward the rooftop. As they climbed, she sensed Zexx's growing tension. For a warrior accustomed to open spaces and the endless horizon of the sands, the confines of the tower must have been suffocating. At least the reception would offer him sky and stars, if not the comfort of his desert home.

They emerged onto the rooftop terrace, and even she, who had attended countless such gatherings, was momentarily struck by the spectacle. Lanterns hung from delicate chains, casting warm golden light across the assembled guests. The night air carried the heavy scent of exotic perfumes, mingling with the aroma of spiced wine and the subtle incense burning in ornate braziers. Musicians played a lilting melody on stringed instruments in the corner, the notes rising and falling like water.

The Crestek elite had outdone themselves tonight, their attire more elaborate and revealing than usual, as if determined to assert their cultural superiority to their Dothvek guest. Females in gauzy gowns similar to hers floated among males in richly embroidered robes, all of them wearing the carefully constructed expressions of people accustomed to political maneuvering.

The chatter ceased abruptly as they stepped fully into view. Every head turned, every eye fixed on Zexx, who stood tall and uncompromising beside her despite the unfamiliar surroundings.

"Distinguished guests," she called, her voice carrying across the suddenly silent terrace. "It is my honor to introduce Ambassador Zexx of the Dothvek clan, representative of Kyrana, their esteemed leader. He comes to us in the spirit of peace and cooperation. I trust you will make him welcome."

The silence stretched for a heartbeat too long, then broke suddenly as several females moved forward almost as one, their expressions transforming from wary assessment to predatory interest.

"Ambassador," purred a female in a gown of deep purple that barely covered her dusky nipples. "How fascinating to meet a real Dothvek. You must tell me everything about life on the sands."

"Is it true that Dothvek males only take one mate?” asked another, her fingers boldly stroking the fabric of his cloak. “I hope you would not limit yourself here.”

A third female, bolder still, slipped between the others to offer Zexx a goblet of wine, her body pressed unnecessarily close to his as she did so. "I've heard the most extraordinary things about Dothvek stamina," she murmured, just loudly enough for Linnea to hear.

She watched as Zexx was surrounded, separated from her by a circle of Crestek females who eyed him like a delicacy they couldn't wait to sample. He handled their attention with surprising grace, his responses measured and diplomatic even as his eyes occasionally sought hers over their heads.

"The plan seems to be working better than we hoped," K’Nar whispered beside her, a note of satisfaction in his voice. "The females, at least, appear to find our barbarian ambassador quite... acceptable."

She took a long sip of the wine a servant had handed her, feeling the sweet liquid burn a path down her throat. Zexx was now being introduced to several council members, their initial wariness giving way to curiosity as they engaged him in conversation. Every few moments, one of the females would touch his arm or laugh too loudly at something he said, their intentions as transparent as the fabric of her gown.

"You don’t regret your decision, do you, Chancellor?”

Linnea started at the female voice now at her side. She managed a smile at the female attendant. “Zelina, you’re working this event?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” she confessed, refilling the chancellor’s wine from a pitcher. “I wanted to see how your plan with the Dothvek was going.” She tracked Zexx and the Crestek females buzzing around him. “I’d say it’s a success.”

Linnea took a sip of wine. “More than I expected.”

Zelina patted her arm as she backed away. “Congratulations, Chancellor.”

Linnea nodded mutely as she watched another female boldly run her fingers along Zexx's forearm, ostensibly to examine his tribal markings, and a realization struck her with the force of a physical blow. For all her concerns about his jealousy, perhaps she was the one who should be worried. What if Zexx found the attention of these Crestek females not unwelcome but enticing?

The thought made her stomach clench with an emotion she rarely experienced: pure, unadulterated jealousy. And suddenly, the victory of seeing her plan succeed tasted remarkably bitter.