Page 27 of Chasing the Night
Ten yards later, I distinctly made out a slit that extended well up to her hip. A svelte thing with a feline’s grace and legs that were made to be wrapped around something. The closer she came, the more Uncle Icarus’ words trailed off until he, too, stared dumbfounded toward the approaching delicacy.
Another ten yards and I recognized Messiah’s easy, brilliant smile.
“Chalice…” I whispered, admiring the long strands of gold that draped from her forehead and glittered down to her cheekbones.
She was gorgeous. Almost ethereal, with the moonlight playing over her hair. It brought out a hint of deep blue in her otherwise black tresses. The chatter on the other side of the shrubs ceased when Messiah presented her. The people parted and gawked, closing in behind her to whisper fervently amongst themselves. A maddening chorus of “Krypt, but who…?” came in waves.
“Messiah,” Isabella hissed, but Messiah kept on walking. She stormed after him, leaving uncle Icarus and I to trail behind them. We passed the shrubs, but the crowd was still thick and buzzing with excitement. Despite Uncle Icarus leading the way, no one gave Isabella a second glance.
“I’ve got it. Thank you,” she snapped, grabbing Chalice by the wrist. Her eyes stressed what she didn’t allow her voice to, and Messiah released Chalice’s arm with a snort of disbelief. She huffed and patted Chalice’s hand apologetically before sashaying off with the family’s newest addition.
“Your nephews really took to her, huh?” I mused to Icarus.
He squinted at me in confusion and gave a little wave to bid me join him. We crept closer until I could see for myself that the nephews were not in his company. Much to our mutual horror, Isabella marched Chalice past the musicians and straight into the arms of Keifer Kantor.
“By the Gods,” Icarus moaned, pawing his face. When his hand slid off his chin, he locked eyes with Atticus. I hadn’t noticed him at first at the table near the musicians. He was livid, and it reflected in his rigid demeanor.
“I… uh,” I attempted.
“Yeah. Go. Go. Go,” Icarus rushed.
I didn’t need a lot of encouragement. Every one of us Krypts knew what that look meant. I fought my way through the crowd and called for a round of drinks. At the sound of my voice, Atticus turned and nodded, wagging a heavy finger at the server to assure one of those was for him.
“What the fuck was that?” I asked Atticus once the server delivered and disappeared. “Why is she trying to pair two with House Kantor?”
His attention was fixated on Chalice. Her slender arms were currently draped over Keifer’s broad shoulders. His hair had been drawn up and fastened so that it draped down his back, exposing the shaved sides. She looked like the highest of noble women. A glow painted her cheeks, and Keifer, being of House Kantor, carried the physique of his Iron Inlet ancestors. He was tall and stocky, the type of man who required no weapon to inspire caution.
He was everything that Atticus and House Krypt weren’t.
“Don’t be fucking simple, Ender. That’s Klarissa Kantor’s only heir now.”
I squinted at him like he was speaking in one of the tongues from the Spicelands, my belly soured long before the awareness of what his words meant wiped every expression from my face.
Reverie was a widow. Her dramatic entrance suddenly made sense. Guilt weighed over me while Atticus paced beside me.
He killed his wine in one swig and stared at his wife over the brim of his finely cut goblet like he might choke the life from her if she drew close enough.
“She’s going to cheapen her,” he seethed. “That’s all I need, two fucking Reveries.”
His jaw tensed until I could’ve sworn that I heard his teeth grating, and I quickly snapped my finger for refills. While the servant went to fetch it, I studied him. Not just the burst of anger that we were all accustomed to, but the something else that was rippling beneath the surface.
The wind instruments chased the drum into a tempo that straddled decency. Atticus gasped, and his hand snapped into a fist. I reached out and supportively grasped his shoulder.
Chalice, who had been smiling and laughing on Atticus’ last nerve, was now stooped and bent with Kantor’s hand supporting the small of her back. The high fashion corset had already dramatized her otherwise modest chest into a mouthwatering masterpiece, but the vision of them globes threatening to spill with her every breath when he bent her was the final straw.
Atticus jerked away from my hand and glared back at me. “She will not entertain the company of men. Ever again. Until I say so.” His voice ebbed with jealousy and he stared at me as if I were the one who had arranged it all.
I held up my hands demonstrating the lack of objection.
“Go fetch Messiah and tell him to escort her to the Villa,” he impatiently snapped.
Chalice
I struggled to keep up with Isabella’s demanding pace. The spiked slippers were not meant for hastiness, nor was my temper. I fought the urge to wrench myself free and fling her as far away as I could. Moments later, that’s exactly what she did to me.
She presented me none to gracefully to a man who stood at least a foot taller than me. He was built like a fucking mountain. Without a word, Isabella pushed and coerced us onto the dancefloor.
I just sort of floated along with it. He helped me place my arms on his muscular shoulders. I had never danced with anyone before, let alone a stranger twice my size.