Page 20 of Bladed Kiss
The blood red dress she pulled together for me just a few hours ago is perfect. To any outsider looking at me, it looks like exactly the type of thing some distant noble would choose for a little human pet. Only the tailor and I know the difference.
Hidden pockets line the skirt, allowing me to keep a backup vial of paralytic poison close to my body, as well as a few jarred spells that will send clouds of smoke large enough to blot out the entire castle billowing as soon as I smash them.
My trusty dagger is sheathed safely to my thigh beneath the folds of my skirt, perfectly positioned to be within arm’s reach through a hidden slit at all times. The entire ensemble is so perfect that I’ve already begun making plans to find room in my bags so that I can bring this beauty home with me.
“And where do you think you’re going?” A zagfer demands, stepping into my path as I’m inches from the palace doors. I let my eyes skate over the ugly male, noting with more than a little bit of satisfaction that he doesn’t seem all too sure of himself.
Perfect. That makes this all that much easier.
I arrange my face in a mask of outrage, lifting my chin at the male.
“To find my husband, who will most assuredly have your head for daring to speak to me!” I cry out, relishing in the way the zagfer’s gray skin pales about two shades at my words. Despite his clear concern, however, he doesn’t back down.Too bad this kind of loyalty is wasted on Grymlok.
“M-my apologies, madam, but I must insist upon seeing your invitation. The King is present, and you… well, you are… human,” he manages to get out, looking increasingly uncomfortable with every passing word. I stifle my smirk, pulling out the thick, cream cardstock of my invitation.
A forger is always a good thing to have on hand, too.
“I know the King is present, you oaf, he’s my cousin-in-law,” I reply coolly as the zagfer takes my invitation and begins to look over it. Exactly as I had hoped, my words shock the male so deeply he drops the invitation before he can inspect it too closely, his hands beginning to shake at the idea of offending a member of the King’s family.
“Forgive me!” he gasps, looking for all the world as if he’s about to keel over dead on the spot. Rather than respond, I simply scoff and push past him, following the music ahead and making my way into the ballroom.
Chandeliers and magicked lights glimmer overhead as guests spin and swirl across the dance floor, the chatter almost deafening as it echoes off of the arched, painted ceilings. The ball seems to be in full swing. Despite the fact that I know I’m here professionally rather than for pleasure, a buzz of excitement races through me at the sight.
I linger in the doorway, drinking in the revelry and allowing my gaze to float across the room, seeking out the male my night will revolve around.
His broad shoulders and deep, raven hair make him easy to spot. I note with no small amount of satisfaction that his stormy, violet eyes are already trained solely on me, despite the young woman in front of him who is obviously desperate to garner his attention.
A smile plays on my lips before I can think better of it, but rather than squash my little involuntary reaction, I let the smile turn seductive. Denve’s eyes widen slightly in the corners, and I push into the crowd before he can see my smirk.
That’ll get his ass moving.
More than a few other sets of eyes have already locked onto me, the weight of them pressing heavily against my neck as I move deeper into the crowd. A lone human woman is far from common in a place like this, and I’ll need to bring my A-game if I expect to survive the night in a den full of predators without blowing my cover completely.
Exactly as I expect, I make it hardly more than a few steps before a set of khuzuth males are stepping into my path, blocking my way forward as they stand shoulder-to-shoulder.
“And what do we have here?” one of them leers down at me, his symmetrical features more uncanny than attractive. The shorter, uglier one next to him seems too busy undressing me with his eyes to participate in his buddy’s attempts at intimidation, but it doesn’t matter to me. This is all going better than I could’ve hoped for.
I dip my chin, letting a blush rise to my cheeks at the attention as I slip into the part of the demure human mate.
“Good evening, my lords,” I say softly, sweeping into a curtsy.
“What’s a human doing at the King’s ball? Who let you in here?” the noble demands as he steps closer to me, violence written clearly on his features.
No matter what their title, all dark elves are the same. Fucking animals.
“Believe me, I’m as shocked as you are! My dear mate is gracious beyond all bounds. He treats me better than I deserve,” I reply, fluttering my eyelashes at the man as I straighten myself up.
“And who’s your mate?” he asks suspiciously, although he backs up a step.
“Why, Lord Rainzal of course! It was a whirlwind marriage, but I’m lucky to serve him,” I say, adding a false air of shock to my voice. The males exchange looks, backing up another step. The truth of the matter is that Lord Rainzal is a distant cousin of the King who hardly ever bothers to show his face in court – which makes him the perfect alibi.
“Rainzal! I haven’t seen that rascal in years!” the ugly one jabbers excitedly. Both of the males seem to relax at my words, and I know that they’ve bought it. I open my mouth, ready to continue to delve deeper into the backstory I’ve created for myself when a sudden presence over my shoulder makes a prickle of excitement race down my spine.
“Ah, Lord Thuvrol. Nice to see you.”
“Likewise,” a deep voice rumbles from over my shoulder. I turn, and there he is, looming above the three of us. Up close, he’s even more captivating, his rugged bone structure and purely masculine aura setting him apart from the preening of most of the elven upper class.
My toes curl inside my heels at his closeness, and I mentally chide myself for falling prey to his unearthly beauty.He’s your target. He’s your target. He’s your target.