Page 105 of Taken By the Lord of the Nocturne Court
But he is also the master of my heart.
On a balcony above, musicians play a soft background melody as we parade across the dining room I haven’t before seen and finally stand in front of our seats as the courtiers follow our example and join us at the table. Tristan sits close by, alongside his parents,sister, and a handsome brunet I’m not familiar with. When he squeezes Sabine’s hand and nods my way, it becomes clear that the elusive husband I’ve heard so much about has returned to the palace for the wedding. The Goldweeds sit right across from them, and farther away are other prominent guests, who all raise their drinks as I too am given a glass with the thick, white liquid.
The music reaches a sudden crescendo, only to die down as Kyran entwines our fingers. He takes his time to speak up, and for a moment I worry he might be too nervous, but when he opens his mouth, his voice is as confident as ever.
“Dear friends, thank you for joining us on this special day. After seven long years, we will once again welcome Dark Companions at court. My marriage to Luke Moor will also officially inaugurate my reign.” He bows to me so elegantly I lose my breath. “Let us hope for an uninterrupted century, and for Heartbreak to never make it to our shores.” When Kyran raises his glass, so does everyone else, and I take that as my cue.
“To my Dark Companion! To Luke Moor!”
“To Luke!” All the elves roar, and I catch myself saying it too, which is stupid, because I’m toasting myself, but I hope no one noticed and quickly sip from my cold chalice—
I frown at Kyran. “Is this…?” It tastes exactly like a malted vanilla milkshake from Best Burger Bonanza. When servants reach for the silver food domes and uncover platters of burgers and fries, I’m on the verge of sobbing. Not just because I have been missing familiar flavors, but because I mentioned it to Kyran, and once again he moved heaven and earth to make me happy. I don’t deserve him, but I will take him anyway.
I get to my toes, kissing my prince while Reiner explains the food to excited courtiers. A cheeseburger lands on my plate, and I wish I could eat it off Kyran’s bare chest.
The other servants serve fries in elegant bowls and instruct the guests about the choice of adding salt or ketchup, or both. One pronounces it “ke-chip” and I snort with laughter, so happy my heart is overflowing.
Sabine is so excited to taste the human food that she gets up despite her husband offering to help. They’re all dressed in Bloodweed black and carmine which looks exquisite in the red light of the blood moon.
Tristan toasts to me with the milkshake, stuffing his mouth with fries and demanding more from a server already. I’m so glad to see him alive and kicking. For saving Kyran’s life, he deserves burgers with extra pickles every day.
“How did you get all of this here?” I whisper to Kyran, chewing patty with a groan of satisfaction.
“It’s my little secret,” he tells me, biting a fry I put against his lips. “But I might show you after our wedding night.”
We’ve had sex countless times already, yet the thrill of getting to go down on him when he’s already my husband makes my balls throb with excitement. I want to be his, and no longer need to hide how close we are.
“Sabine wrote me so much about you,” her husband says, watching me with the eyes of a doe. He seems too young to be a father, but he is an elf and therefore could easily be two hundred years old.
Sabine chuckles and gives him a peck on the cheek before meeting my gaze, clearly flustered. “Andros and I bonded over a treatise on what humans call religion. His mother spent a whole year in this place called Greece,” she tells me as if it were a fantastical land of flying horses and gods, not a country like many others.
“That’s where she met my father, actually,” he adds with pride.
I lean closer, and when a drop of sauce is about to drip from my burger and onto my breeches, Reiner is there to catch it in a napkin. I’m a little embarrassed but pretend it didn’t happen, only thanking Reiner in a whisper before turning back to the Bloodweeds.
“Are you saying your father is human?”
“Yes, he lives in the capital and would love to meet you one day. I love the names you helped us pick!” Andros says, all excited, and now that he said his father is Greek, I can kind of see it in his darker complexion and black hair. “Nathan or Natalie. Simply glorious.”
Sabine told me he insisted on Braadley or Braadlina, so I’m glad I managed to save the poor child from that misery. Conversation flows easily, and even the Goldweeds attempt to take part, though they’re more interested in discussing imperial politics than listening to my explanation of the difference between mythology and religion.
I rather enjoy Andros’s company. He and Sabine seem like a good fit—both are nerdy, and excitable, and so damnniceit’s almost hard to believe.
I might have had a glass of wine too much though, because by the time everyone gets up and heads next door, to the ballroom decorated with garlands of black leaves and pearls, I feel absolute confidence. Were it not for Kyran, I would make a fool of myself during our first dance, but he leads so well that it feels like floating over the marblefloor.
Dozens of hands clap as the music speeds up, prompting Kyran to spin alongside me, with one arm secured around my waist. Each smiling face reminds me this is a celebration of my union with the man I love.
I’m not the deer in the headlights I was a month ago. I might not be an elf, but I’m already part of this realm. I’ve been gifted the opportunity to learn shadowcraft, and I resonate with the fashions of the court. My position will come with a degree of danger, but when was life ever safe for someone like me—poor, gay, and unwanted? I am happy to trade the misery of my former life for the risk that comes with being a Dark Companion if it means I get to stay here.
My head spins with good wine and joy, but I’m pumped out by dancing and consider going back to the table for seconds, since I don’t know when I’ll get to taste burgers again. Tristan wants to talk to Kyran, so I leave them be and venture out to grab more food and drink.
It’s like trudging through bejeweled Jell-O, because courtiers are greedy for my ear and strive for my attention, offering everything from smiles to marriage advice. Even Marquise Coralis is suspiciously, sparing no well-wishes, which makes me wonder if she still plans to form a throuple with me and Kyran.
As impatient as I am, my behavior will now reflect on Kyran, so I remain generous with my time on the way back to the table. I’m close to reaching my throne (and burgers) when a familiar voice grabs my attention with a passionate tirade.
“We should invest more time and effort into discouraging Heartbreak rather than reacting only once he comes close to the shore. We do know he’s repelled by pearls of mourning oysters. Why not try to use them on a bigger scale? Wouldn’t you support such an idea if it meant less risk to the Nocturne Court? It’s maddening and the Lord will hear about it from me every day until he chooses to listen.”
I peek over my shoulder to spot Sylvan facing two guards, each of whom is at least a head and a hat taller than him. But while he might be small, he has a cutting tongue, like a pair of dainty scissors decorated with filigree, yet no less sharp than any other pair. His attire is elegant yet strikes me as armor rather than an outfit worn for the purpose of fashion and covers every bit of him with the exception of the face and fingers.