Page 38

Chapter thirty-six

A strid strolled into Dimitri’s ensuite, expecting an hour to herself. The reprieve she’d been looking forward to was short lived when he followed her in. Her bargain to bathe herself was negated with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you. Or watch,” Dimitri said, taking a seat on the edge of the black porcelain tub.

He wouldn’t let her out of the water until she’d washed and scrubbed every inch of skin. His compulsion for cleanliness scraped at her nerves, but it was far from his strangest characteristic.

The male seemed impervious to the bitter cold. Astrid couldn’t discern if he was simply acclimated to the winter that embedded itself into every stone and tile of this palace or if he was warmed by the souls he consumed.

Dimitri left his perch to shower as she toweled off. Astrid watched as he tilted his head back and hot water sluiced over his chiseled body. His muscles bunched and flexed as he moved, sending a shiver down Astrid’s spine.

She turned away, retreating to his closet but her mind betrayed her, replaying the way his chest heaved when she rode him. The build of pleasure as she lowered herself onto his cock. The intensity of it.

Astrid dug her nails into her palm and focused on finding clothing. She chose a linen shirt and the thickest topcoat he owned. It was black wool trimmed in leather with blood red embroidery of smoke or clouds over the back and down one lapel. She slipped his garments on and stepped into her heels.

Dimitri strolled up behind her as she fastened her gold lotus belt. “Don’t butcher my coat. We’re fitting you for a wardrobe this morning.”

She glanced toward him over her shoulder. “Will this wardrobe include shoes? Jewelry?”

His hand smoothed over the curve of her ass and he pressed his lips to her damp hair. “Always asking for the stars,” he murmured and turned to dress.

They strolled through the palace and Astrid cataloged their route to the eastern wing.

The chatter of a large crowd echoed through the stairway they climbed.

When they reached the top, Astrid blinked.

She’d never seen so many winged Fae in one place.

Dozens upon dozens of Ledivites shuffled through the wide corridor.

She knew King Ambrose kept a large court, but there were several hundred people here.

The overlapping voices quieted as their arrival was observed.

Shortly, the only sound heard were the shuffling feet of a parting crowd as Dimitri stalked forward.

Whoever these people were, they knew enough to fear him.

They passed large archways leading into grand rooms with polished floors—ballrooms that had been repurposed for merchants’ wares.

She’d seen this on a smaller scale in Clorea but the array of goods here were astounding.

Fae crowded into the elegant rooms. As Dimitri and Astrid shuffled, shoulder to shoulder through the indoor market, the reflection of candlelight off polished steel and elaborate jeweled tiaras caught her eye.

Tables covered in black velvet rowed another room, Astrid observed as they entered.

Ornate armor and weapons were neatly rowed.

Intricate carvings of animals decorated breastplates, and a snake coiled across a pauldron caught her attention.

She slowed and within seconds, Dimitri caught her wrist, pulling her forward.

“My wife will not shop amongst commoners,” he said.

Peasants could never afford the luxuries lining those rooms.

“Is another court visiting?” Astrid asked. Trading between courts during visits were a common occurrence and would explain the mass of Fae gathered.

Dimitri led her up another flight of stairs. “They are gathering for the upcoming Ascension and to congratulate King Ambrose on expanding our borders.”

“Is that a Ledivite holiday?” If Dimitri was truly her sword, she should learn his culture, if for no other reason than to make managing the demented male easier.

Her winged male answered, but his words were emotionless. “It’s an annual celebration marking the end of the last reign and the start of the new.”

A constant reminder of his lover lost, Astrid mused, surprised by the bitterness lingering in her thoughts.

“How is the Ascension celebrated?” Astrid asked as they reached the top of the steps.

The floor was the same as the one below, but instead of the bustling crowd, this corridor was empty. The cadence of Dimitri’s boots echoed through the hall and the hum of the crowd below them rose again.

“Viktor,” Dimitri called as they walked farther into the hall.

A male stepped into the archway and answered, “My lord,” before disappearing into the ballroom.

They followed Viktor, and he bowed in a flourish along with two females who appeared to be his assistants. “Always a pleasure to see you, Lord Dimitri. And of course, your beautiful new wife, Princess Noctis.”

The clothier was tall and lean. His black wings and hair starkly contrasted his fair skin.

Astrid studied his eyes, one amber and the other a clouded, milky gray.

There were no scars around his eye, which either meant the healer wasn’t skilled enough to save his sight or these were the eyes he was born with.

Viktor sashayed to an exquisite suit on a male dress form.

It was the darkest black she’d ever seen.

The color seemed to draw the light out of the room, a feature which highlighted the gold thread embroidery along the lapels and cuffs.

Beneath it was a vest stitched in the same golden thread.

The clothier leaned back, scrutinizing his work.

He tugged the lapels down and dusted the shoulders.

“I think a white shirt would suit this and your skin tone,” he said, turning toward them once again. Viktor drummed his fingers over his sternum as he narrowed his eyes at Dimitri. “Thin gold chains to tie to the embroidery?”

Dimitri nodded and asked, “Where is my wife’s dress?”

“I need inspiration before I can make a gown,” he replied, taking Astrid’s hand.

She braced for Dimitri’s hot-tempered retaliation and assessed the females. She would have time to shove them behind a fabric table and make her stand, while Dimitri killed the clothier.

To her astonishment, Dimitri allowed her to be led away.

“How long has this brute been making you wear his clothes?” Viktor asked as he guided her onto a hexagon platform before a three-paned mirror.

He tilted his head, studying her reflection, then chuckled and flicked the edge of her makeshift skirt.

“I suppose you’re grateful he’s so much taller than you. This would be indecent otherwise.”

Astrid blinked. They were easy with each other. Some of the tension slipped from her and she said, in a lower tone, “He would keep me locked in his room if he had his—”

“Tied to my bed, if you continue conspiring against me,” Dimitri interjected from a table across the room.

His back was turned toward them as he browsed yards of lace hanging in neat rows. Astrid took in the open space. Different materials were displayed alongside dress forms clothed in beautiful garments.

“Is all of this for him?” Astrid asked. Surely the crowd below them would shop here once Dimitri finished.

Viktor nodded and stepped behind her. He flicked his fingers in arching sweeps and yards of fabric flew off their respective tables. Astrid remained still as satins, silks, and linens, in diverse colors momentarily fell over her shoulders before taking to the air once more, replaced by another.

Air weavers excelled at textile arts. Their ability to embroider, sew, and create tapestries were far faster than those forced to operate looms by hand.

“My work solely belongs to Lord Dimitri. In exchange, I reside here, as a member of the royal court with my wife and children. I also have access to any material I desire.”

“Your work is exquisite, but is living at court enough?” Astrid asked. He might make a fortune off Dimitri, but he would make that and more if he were permitted to sell to other nobles.

“There are other benefits of having Lord Dimitri as a patron, with which I am sure you are familiar. I live in a kingdom of war, but have no interest trading my needle for a sword,” Viktor said as he brought another swath of silk across her throat, this one the same deep black as Dimitri’s suit.

“No one would dare touch my family,” he continued.

“My children have the same education as any high ranking noble.” A broad smile spread over his lips and the corner of his eyes crinkled as he straightened silver lace trim against the black.

“I’m permitted to dress my family in my creations and with only one customer, I have an abundance of the rarest commodity of all: time.

And I spend it with my wife and children instead of slaving over fabrics. ”

Astrid dissected his words, comparing them to Keres’s. The male they knew, while still terrifying, was kind in his own way. She watched Dimitri’s reflection as he browsed the tables collecting fabrics. He was protective and generous.

And jealous. And overbearing, Astrid reminded herself.

Viktor and Keres obeyed him because he offered them a comfortable life. Astrid didn’t need a life gifted to her. She wanted her presence acknowledged, her mind respected. She needed to be an equal to a male who valued her.

Dimitri started toward her. As his image vanished behind hers in the glass, his wings spread, extending past her shoulders. A marriage of their forms. Staring back at her was a mirage of a daughter grown, with Astrid’s features and Dimitri’s wings.

Astrid dismissed the thought as Dimitri stepped onto the raised platform, breaking the illusion. His chest pressed against her back as his lips warmed her temple.

“Add some lingerie to the wardrobe Viktor creates,” he whispered, placing the material he’d collected in her hands.

Astrid straightened her back and met his gaze in the mirror. “What style would you like?”

“Surprise me,” he murmured. His fingertips grazed her scalp as he ran his hand through her hair, sending tingles cascading over her skin.

Astrid closed her eyes and let Dimitri’s touch consume her. When the last of her strands slipped from his hold, she opened her eyes. He left her to cross the ballroom. He took a seat to wait patiently.

The two females worked in tandem with Viktor, but it was the flowers pinned in the shorter female’s dark hair that caught her attention. Snow plants, sprigs of vegetation dotted with tiny red flowers.

Was she one of Sterling’s spies? Was he here?

Astrid fidgeted with the lace, feigning interest in the pattern until Viktor turned his back. “Do you make these or are they purchased?” Astrid asked, taking the opportunity to arrange her fingers in the subtle sign language Sterling taught all his spies.

Are you a friend? she asked beneath the conversation.

“We make all of these by hand. The density and quality of the threads are carefully selected,” she answered while her gestures read, Be ready to escape.

Sterling had planned her extraction, but she wouldn’t leave her mother here. Dimitri would send her mother to Clorea in pieces for Astrid’s betrayal.

Free my mother first, she gestured against the lace as she held it to her throat. “Can you add jewels to this, Viktor?” she asked.

The clothier scrutinized the lace on her throat, then replaced it with another. “We can sew in jewels. Give you a neckline that glitters like the night sky.”

Astrid smiled, turning toward the dark-haired assistant.

She simply smiled and turned her back, arranging bolts of silk on a table before excusing herself and leaving the ballroom.