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PLAY THE PART (EVEN IF IT BURNS)

ARABELLA

My knuckles went white around the stem of my goblet. Two hours into this… feast … and Kazimir’s court was descending into hedonism. Gasps and breathless laughter echoed through the banquet hall, punctuated by the clatter of dropped cutlery and the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing.

My cheeks burned, and I hated that I couldn’t tell whether it was embarrassment or fascination.

I forced my gaze away from a couple who seemed determined to set the tapestries alight with sheer friction, but everywhere I looked, limbs tangled, clothes disappeared, and bodies explored anatomical positions I’d never even contemplated.

I’d heard whispers of the Dark Lord’s infamous celebrations, of course. Every kingdom had its gossips. But witnessing it firsthand was... educational.

Kazimir, ever the attentive captor, angled his chair toward mine. His dark eyes flicked down to my death grip on the goblet before meeting mine. I deliberately loosened my fingers.

“Your first bacchanal?” he asked softly.

Across the room, a red-haired woman disappeared beneath a table, and the man above her seized a fistful of the tablecloth in unmistakable pleasure. I tried not to stare.

I raised the goblet in a small salute. “I half-expected beheadings or torture demonstrations,” I said, my voice unexpectedly dry.

His dark smile flickered. “I can arrange that after dessert, if you prefer. My executioner is frightfully bored tonight.”

I took a measured sip of wine, using the brief moment to steady myself. My father would have exploded with rage if he’d seen me in this den of revelry—no chaperones, no discreet bows or polite conversations. The thought gave me an illicit thrill of satisfaction.

An impeccably tailored man sidled up to a drifting wraith, unbuttoning his fine silk collar in a blatant invitation.

The creature slipped through him in a curl of black mist, and he staggered, gasping, as if the darkness had caressed him somewhere very private indeed.

Unfazed, he followed, tugging at the rest of his buttons with optimistic zeal.

Servants glided between tables, dousing a few of the floating lights to lend greater privacy (or maybe encouragement) to the unfolding scenes.

Shadows revealed flashes of bare skin, plush silks pooled on the floor, and the sweet music morphing into low hums of desire.

I swallowed hard, determined to keep my composure and not let Kazimir see how rattled I was, or how curious.

“Your court is… energetic,” I managed.

He gave a lazy shrug. “Wait until Midwinter. Then it gets truly depraved.” His eyes danced with mischief. “Does it offend your delicate sensibilities, my lady?”

I shook my head, feigning a casual indifference I couldn’t entirely feel.

But I’d rather choke on my own tongue than let him see me flustered.

My encounters had been furtive fumblings compared to this open indulgence.

But it wasn’t complete ignorance that made me uncomfortable—it was the sheer openness of it all.

The unapologetic way these people took what they wanted, consequences be damned.

A small, rebellious part of me wondered what such freedom felt like.

Across the hall, a woman stared at me with open hostility, her fingers tracing the ornate dagger at her waist. There could only be one reason why I already had an enemy. “I suppose everyone at your court wants to sleep with you?”

“Not everyone.” Kazimir’s gaze slid pointedly to me before he followed my line of sight. “Ah. Viscountess Morana. She oversees Arvoryn Pass, between Solandris and my domain.” His eyes shifted back to me, darkly amused.

I hid my unease behind another sip. The delicious burn of the wine spread through my chest and into my cheeks. “She appears territorial. You two have a history?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking if I’ve bedded her?”

My pulse gave an irritating little jump. “You’re free to consort with whomever you like, Lord Blackrose,” I said, my voice airy and false. “I’m merely wondering if she’s going to hurl that dagger at my face.”

Kazimir almost smirked. “She wouldn’t dare. And no. We don’t consort . Not anymore.”

I took another sip of wine, abruptly aware that my gown felt unbearably hot.

He glanced at my goblet. “Careful. That vintage will sneak up on you.”

I smiled my courtliest smile and swept my gaze over the revelers. “You’re not telling anyone else to be careful.”

The casual look of indifference he gave me was as fake as my smile. “True. The difference is that I won’t have to carry any of them out of here when they overindulge.”

I set down my goblet with a sharp click. Kazimir exuded smugness so thoroughly that it made my skin itch. I longed to hurl the wine in his face, though the sight of it trickling down his collar might have been more distracting than punishing.

He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Watching you pretend this doesn’t affect you is rapidly becoming the highlight of my evening.”

“It doesn’t affect me,” I lied.

He slid his chair closer to mine, the air between us growing thick. The soft glow of the remaining lights rendered his features dangerously captivating—long lashes, sharp cheekbones, that infuriatingly well-shaped mouth. My stomach executed a series of complex, unwanted flips.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, Lady Blackrose,” he murmured.

I forced a brittle smile in response, but any clever retort stuck in my throat. Strangely, my truth-sense hummed that he was being sincere. A slight exhale slipped past my lips.

Kazimir reached for his goblet, creating breathing space between us. He polished off his last swallow of wine. “We have a small problem.”

My attention shifted to the chaotic knot of revelers in the center of the hall. “I’d say you have a few,” I replied drily. “Your guests are fornicating on the dining tables.”

He gestured, taking in the half-clothed courtiers, the indulgent moaning. “They expect a show. If we’re not at least seen participating in their hedonism, they’ll think I’m… distracted.”

I stiffened. “Excuse me?”

He stood and offered me his hand. “Dance with me.”

All my instincts shouted caution. He was playing a game. I’d agreed to appear cooperative, but “cooperative” now seemed like a trap. Then again, dancing was presumably safer than the alternative. And it gave me a chance to keep some control.

I placed my hand in his, ignoring the spark of warmth at his touch. “Fine,” I said coolly. “I’m sure you’re an adequate partner.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, and he led me into a cleared space where a few couples had formed a slow, seductive dance.

I caught glimpses of swirling fabric, parted lips, and wandering hands.

Kazimir pulled me close, one hand settling at my waist, the other clasping my fingers against his chest. Pretense or not, every nerve I possessed seemed to buzz.

“Relax,” he urged quietly. His hand slid up my back, a deceptively modest repositioning that sent a wave of tingling awareness through me.

I stared at my free palm, which hovered uncertainly near his shoulder. “I’m perfectly relaxed.”

“I can feel your pulse from here,” he said. “Now, look at me. Laugh as though I’ve just whispered something outrageous.”

I tried one of my carefully rehearsed society giggles, but Kazimir frowned. “That’s the polite, I’m-so-delighted-about-this-needlepoint laugh. I want the other one—the kind that suggests I’ve just whispered something wicked in your ear.”

A retort formed on my tongue, but before I could speak, he bent his head, letting me feel the faint prickle of his stubble against my cheek. “They’re all imagining how I’ll take you tonight,” he murmured. “You should give them a reason to envy you.”

A breathy exhale escaped me, half-laugh, half-disbelief. The new wave of heat had nothing to do with the wine.

“There,” he noted. “Much better.”

We moved in slow, swaying steps, our bodies brushing in ways that felt far too intimate. My gown suddenly seemed both stifling and overly thin. I was aware of every inch of him—his fingers grazing my spine, the slight press of his thigh. My gaze flicked to his mouth before I could stop myself.

He spun me gently, guiding me until my back pressed against his chest. I now faced the full assembly of guests, many of whom looked on with eager curiosity.

Some watched with hunger in their eyes, as though expecting us to morph into some public spectacle.

Anxiety twisted through me, but Kazimir’s warm presence at my back offered a strange, dissonant reassurance.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered against my ear, “and I will.”

Instead of answering, I let my head tilt against his shoulder, my eyes slipping shut. My nerves crackled in time with the distant thunder that rolled outside. Power swirled through the black spires of his citadel, echoing the tension in my own body.

“You’re trembling,” he said softly.

“The wine,” I lied, even as my pulse hammered.

His lips brushed the curve of my ear in a subtle grin. “Of course.”

The shift of his thumb beneath my breast made my breath catch. He never truly crossed a boundary, but the promise of it hovered between us. Against my better judgment, I indulged the traitorous response of my body—heat, curiosity, a raw confusion about just how easily he unraveled me.

Everyone watched, enthralled. Kazimir’s voice dropped lower. “They think I’ve devoured you. If only they knew how well you resist.”

My defiance flared. I twisted enough to meet his gaze over my shoulder. “Who says I’m resisting anymore?”

His eyes darkened with something that might have been hunger, but we didn’t have time to explore the moment further. A sudden crash split the air.

Viscountess Morana had drawn her dagger on one of the Syndicate’s representatives. “How dare you!” she roared. Wine splashed. Chairs screeched back.

I tensed, expecting Kazimir to intervene. Instead, he released me, taking my hand in one smooth motion.

“Aren’t you going to stop them?” I asked.

“They’ll sort it out,” he muttered, guiding me through the tightening crowd toward a side door. “And if they kill each other, it solves several problems at once.”

I stole a final glance over my shoulder. The hall had plunged into chaos, courtiers scrambling, a few excited onlookers cheering. The Viscountess lunged. Steel caught the candlelight, and blood spattered across a white tablecloth before the crowd closed around the fight.

Kazimir pulled me through the doorway, the heavy wood swinging shut behind us, instantly muffling the feast’s roar.

And then we were alone.