Page 34 of Taking Jenny (Planet Orhon #4)

Whatever it was, the heat coiled in my stomach like a spark looking for kindling. My pulse pounded in my ears, and for one second, I forgot the palace, the hunt, the stakes. All I could think about was the two men watching me like I was something sacred and sinful all at once.

“Shall we?” Mal finally drawled, breaking the tension as he moved toward the door with the others.

The trip in his onworlder was unmercifully short. When I asked about the outfits and their obvious coordination, especially mine and Tiger’s, Mal took the credit.

“My idea. I want the court to know and see that you and Tiger are a matched set. Win, and he rises with you, which will make him safe from harm, too. The rest of us are wearing purple to piss off Justice.”

I blinked. “Why?”

A wicked light shone in his eyes. “Because it is the royal color, and only the court is permitted to wear it.”

I understood why Mal would wear the color considering his position, but I looked down at my dress and felt dread coil tight in my belly. “Then why am I—why are we—” I couldn’t even finish the sentence, I was suddenly so distraught.

“What will he do? Cancel Illiapol over the color of your dress, or the color of everyone else’s attire?” he asked facetiously. “That would piss off the entire population, especially after the five-day delay. He won’t risk a riot over your dress. He will grin and bear it.”

Lovely. I was the main character in a play I hadn’t auditioned for, wearing a costume that might get me killed.

“If you live to antagonize him, why does he tolerate you?”

“He respects backbone, even when he wants to snap it,” he said in a cynical tone before glancing at me. “One more thing to keep in mind. The hunters will all wear a gold sash over their clothes, so everyone knows how special they are.”

“Nice of them to let me know who to hate on sight.”

Mal valeted his onworlder, which was surreal for me, though I wasn’t sure what else I expected at a fancy alien party.

We walked into the palace through a golden arch.

Black marble floors were every place I had gone in the palace, with the exception of the prison.

Gemstone chandeliers and tapestries were peppered tastefully throughout.

The walls varied, though most were charcoal.

It was like being in a sophisticated cavern, and I could understand where Mal got his tastes for the dramatic.

Finally, we found ourselves in the ballroom. Much like the rest of the palace in decor, but more gilded and more alive with music and dancers. As soon as we showed up, though, the music stopped and people pointed, stared, and whispered to one another.

The filthy troll, Justice Bateen, stood up from his throne and gestured to the entire ballroom to gather their attention to him and us. “Look everyone, it is our avatar,” he announced, gesturing toward me. “And her warden, Malice Ripper.”

He began a round of applause that ended the moment he zipped a flat hand into the air, his gaze on me. “Avatar?”

I swallowed down my nerves. “Yes?”

Justice stepped forward in all his royal gold and purple finery, his voice dripping both sugar and venom. “Tell us, what preparations do you prefer?”

I frowned in confusion and glanced at Mal, whose expression had become grim. “I’m not sure,” I said slowly. “But I’ve been thinking about how to handle the trial—"

Justice laughed as he walked up to me. “No, no, no, dear. How would you like your meat prepared?” he elaborated, stopping much too close to me.

I was so shocked by what he meant, I couldn’t respond.

His gaze raked down the length of me and back up before he filled the silence.

“I have always preferred…I think your people call it carpaccio. There is a muscle that runs from the low back,” he said, gently pressing a hand against my stomach before leisurely sliding it downward over my hip and onto my thigh.

“And it attaches to the front of the femur right about here, called the psoas major, and it makes the most wonderful carpaccio. Tender, flavorful. It is always what I have at the feast, though you are so small that I’m not sure there will be much to eat. ”

An uneasy chuckle went through the ballroom, and he took his hand away. “But I am always open to suggestions from our avatar. So, any thoughts?”

I jutted my chin out rebelliously. “If I must be eaten, then I would prefer it to happen well after my hundredth birthday, but be warned, I plan to be tough and chewy.”

His dark eyes scowled, but then he laughed boisterously. The ballroom joined him.

“This avatar will be a worthy hunt indeed. Music! Dancing! Now !” The music resumed as did the dancers. Justice leaned close to my ear. “I will take only so much cheek from you, Avatar. Until I take your cheeks from you.”

A shiver shot through me at his words but I held my ground. He smirked arrogantly, then drifted away and vanished into the crowd like the snake he was.

Mal stepped in beside me, his presence grounding, his voice soft but steady. “Let’s dance.”

“As good a distraction from imminent doom as any.” I slid my hand into his, and he led me to the dance floor.

We assumed the posture I’d been taught for the dance, and he put his hand on my waist. The music was slow, steady, and hypnotic, and Mal moved as though the rhythm lived inside his veins. His grace wasn’t just practiced. It was effortless. Seductive.

With Discord’s training, I held my own, but I could feel how much he anchored me, how much he made the world and everyone else around us fall away. As the tempo rose, so did the charge between us. Every unsaid word. Every forbidden thought. My body came alive in his hands.

In Tiger’s arms, I felt desired. But in Mal’s…I felt unleashed.

When the piece ended, he bowed politely to me before joining the rest of the room.

For a second, I stood there, alone and confused.

I wasn’t sure why he had abandoned me, until a Ladrian in fine robes approached me.

It was then I realized that Mal was giving me the chance to size up the hunters, and this man’s robes were purple with a gold sash.

He wasn’t handsome, but that wasn’t because of the balding.

It was because he was sneering. He also had the kind of face that was probably born ugly and he’d had to learn to weaponize it.

“Avatar,” he drawled obnoxiously. “So nice to meet you.”

I looked down my nose at him. “And you are?”

“Pleon. I will be joining the hunt tomorrow.” He looked me over like meat on a rack, which I supposed was what he was expecting. “Are you going to be like all the other avatars and start begging now, or will you surprise everyone and maintain this bravado until the end?”

I shrugged a shoulder, refusing to give in to his bait. “I’ve never been one for begging, Pleon.”

His eyes flickered over me, leering. “I don’t doubt it. In fact, I’d be curious to know if you have anything in common with your sister.”

My blood turned to ice, and it took effort to keep my expression neutral. “I beg your pardon?”

“I do not give pardons,” he mocked. “That is Justice’s job. Not that he gives any.”

“What sister, Pleon?” I asked, my voice tight. I had to learn what he knew.

“You bear a striking resemblance to the new queen in Halla,” he said arrogantly. “Since she arrived recently, I can only imagine she brought you with her. When Justice tortures her, what do you think he’ll do? Make her guess how we prepared your meat? Or make her eat it?”

My chest tightened, and I forced a smile. “You seem confused, Pleon. Should I get someone to take you home? Too much whickler?”

The music died between sets. Silence edged the room and all eyes were now on us.

“What?” he asked.

Much louder, I continued, striking out just as cruelly. “Are you the most hated member of the council, or the least consequential one? I can’t decide which you are, but I’m sure you’re one of those. Maybe even both.”

The guests near us snickered and gossiped to each other. Pleon’s complexion reddened, and he glared furiously at me. “I will kill you myself,” he threatened in a dark, heated tone. “But first, I’ll make you beg and—”

I rolled my eyes, feigning boredom. “Can we please get to the trial, so I can put you out of your misery?”

“You watch your tone, Avatar!” he hissed, eyes narrowed. “Or I will—”

“Bore me some more?” I asked, arching a brow.

His face twisted with rage. “I have killed two avatars in the past ten years, little girl. Strangled them. There is nothing like watching the light fade from someone’s eyes as she chokes on the last bit of air in her lungs.

” He stepped closer, invading my personal space.

“Don’t worry, I will make sure not to crush you when I do it.

I’ve been practicing on other humans this week, so I know how to make it last.”

Bile rose in my throat, but I swallowed it down, replacing it with a cold, cutting smile. “No, you’re the kind of man who is too quick to satisfy anyone.”

He drew back to strike me, but another hunter caught his fist. “Pleon, you know the rules. You hit her now, and you’re not on the hunt tomorrow.” He smiled flirtatiously at me, then grimaced at Pleon. “Because you’ll be dead .”

“Ooh, please let him hit me,” I teased.

The new guy laughed, but Pleon was less than amused. He shook the new guy off and stomped away. “I’m Craven Filliate,” he introduced himself. “And you, Avatar, are an unusual woman.”

“Oh?” I asked, just as the music finally started again.

“Bold. Unwise. Quite possibly suicidal.” He inclined his head. “It’s rather foolish not to mind your tongue or your manners when in the enemy stronghold, and I have yet to see you do otherwise.”

I shrugged. “Foolish is the same as brave in the wrong circumstances.”

“Well put.” He held out a hand to me. “Care to dance?”

“I’d be delighted,” I lied.

I twirled with him and a few other hunters. I flirted when it served me. Intimidated when it didn’t. But as the night wore on, my nerves outpaced my charm.