Fantasy of Flight (19 page)

“Crystal, I—” I start, unsure of how to accept her thanks.

“I’m gonna cut to the chase here. I get the feeling you’re, as Alzona says, ‘in balls-deep’.” My face blanks as my heart starts to beat rapidly. How much has she guessed?

She hurries on. “And I don’t want to know what’s going on. I just want you to know, if you ever need somewhere to hide, somewhere
no one
will find you, come to me. I owe you and this is my way of offering repayment.” I think I nod, and then she’s all business again.

Crystal slumps on the bed. “Alright, you’re done,” she says. “And so am I.”

I take a deep breath and look at the black dress, which appeared on my bed yesterday. I’m embarrassed to even look at it. I move behind the new screen and unlace my clothing, careful not to jostle my hair. The dress flows over my frame like a whisper. I tug it into place and look down. Veni! It even looks bad from this view. I shuffle, adjusting the fine gold chains around my hips so the light, whispery material covers the important parts.

My stomach churns. I can’t wear this! There’s a large length of bare thigh and hip up each side where the sparkling chain connects the front panel to the back panel. My back is bare and there are only two strips covering my chest. Maybe I should just go in my other clothes. It was the material that made it so bad. At least in the harness I didn’t worry everything was going to fall out.

“Are you done yet?” Crystal complains. I gather myself. I did the harness outfit. I can do this. I repeat the line ten times.

I step out from the cover of the screen.

Crystal chokes on her pear, which I begrudgingly gave her after her stomach growled for an hour. “Is it that bad?” I smooth the front.

“Shit balls. You look amazing!” she exclaims. I perk up. She doesn’t swear very much. I must look good.

“It’s not too revealing?” I ask and twirl in a circle. Slow, so nothing flies up.

She snorts. “I don’t think you could reveal any more, but you are owning that dress. Sin is going to die.”

It’s not Sin I’m worried about.

I reach up and adjust the two panels covering each of my breasts down to my waist where they connect into the front panel. It moves the thin golden chain, which travels down the length of my back. “I’m worried the material won’t stay in place,” I admit.

“Frost, every man in that hall will be hoping your dress doesn’t stay in place. And so what if it doesn’t? You have a great body. Honestly, the line in the middle of your stomach meets up with your cleavage. You are in disgustingly good shape.” I giggle at her silliness and give a faster twirl. The black dress doesn’t fly up as much as I thought it would.

“Aren’t you going to look in the mirror?” she asks as she moves to the door.

I shake my head. “I’ll lose my nerve.”

Crystal stops with the door half open. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. If you act like you’re comfortable in the dress, everyone will treat you as though you’re comfortable. Own it Frost. And…remember my other offer,” she adds, with a pointed look. I run up and hug her. I’m not sure when I’ll see her again.

“Say hello to Alzona for me,” I whisper.

I pace around my chamber for a while. When am I supposed to go downstairs? A knock sounds at the door. I open it and eye the Watchman, whose mouth has dropped open.

“U-uh, the King…thought. The King…he wanted me to—” he stutters as he looks down my frame. This is worse than expected.

The man gives up talking and holds out a pair of shoes. I planned to wear my boots, but these are much better. I rest back against the cold wood with a giggle after closing the door. After a bit of puzzlement, I work out the jeweled shoes and get them on. I wonder what type of stones these are? A black color with a blue tinge. Actually, I wonder where Jovan got this dress. It’s my size and I’m much smaller than a Bruma female. Maybe there’s a child somewhere he borrowed it from? I shudder at the thought of a child wearing this clothing.

Music trails up the stairs and excited nerves flutter in my chest. At least there’s one thing to look forward to. I crack open the door and listen to the sounds of people leaving their rooms down the hallway. Loud calls and squeals reach me.

After a few minutes, everything is silent. This is it.

I take a deep breath, reminding myself I’m Frost, not Olina, and leave the room.

The halls are mostly empty, except for the Watch. Everyone must have raced downstairs as soon as the music started.

I practice ignoring the guards’ reaction to my dress on the way down. I force myself not to reach behind me to make sure the material at the back is in place as the men whisper behind me.

I reach the archway. I’m beginning to hate the sight of it. I breathe a sigh of relief as people continue their conversations. I slide through the packed room, trying to find my friends. I pass Jacquiline and Fiona, who look beautiful. Jacquiline’s dress is much more revealing than mine. Roman can’t take his eyes off of her. I’m envious of how confident she appears.

There seem to be more people in attendance than just the assembly. Maybe some people from the Inner Ring are here. I hadn’t noticed this last time. Men elbow each other as they recognize me. Next, groups of the assembly stop talking. It’s because I’m from the Outer Rings. It’s because I’m from the Outer Rings. Maybe if I repeat it enough times, I’ll believe it.

I’ve never been happier to spot Avalanche. The barrack men are in the back corner. I rush to them. “Here you are! I couldn’t find any of you,” I scold, placing my hands on my hips.

A stunned silence meets my reprimand. I look around the gaping group. “Oh no, please not you, too.”

Blizzard swallows hard. “Sometimes, you make it hard for me to see you as a sister,” he says. The others murmur their agreement and do their best to look elsewhere. Ice is failing miserably.

“Princess,” a gravelly voice whispers in my ear. “You’ve done the impossible.” I whirl around to face Sin, who stands much too close.

“I don’t even want to hear what that is,” I say truthfully and walk off. Or try to. Sin grabs two drinks and hurries after me.

“You’ve surpassed my own beauty,” he calls behind me. I snort, but his comment makes me walk a little taller, letting him catch up. The middle of the room is starting to push back to clear space for the dancing. We hover on the edge of the circle.

I eye the drinks in his hands. “You trying to get me drunk?” I ask.

He smiles down at me. “It’s the only way you’ll agree to get in my bed,” he drawls. I laugh and take the drink. You always know where you’re with Sin, unlike Jovan.

The dancing starts up. I watch as the King dances with Arla, the highest ranking female, as dictated by tradition. His face is neutral. Hers is beaming. I wonder how many ladies present are hoping she’ll mess it up. She doesn’t slip one foot, and I dislike her immensely for it.

I peer around the hall. This time Arla has gone with a nature theme. Trees have been brought in and flowers are braided around the rafters. They hang down the walls. She’s outdone herself. It’s beautiful. Like last time, cushions are at the far end of the hall and there are rows of goblets on the table. They’re taken almost as quickly as they’re filled to the brim. I feel my own drink take hold and forget a little of my discomfort. Sin hands me another. I roll my eyes at him and take it, toying with one of the hanging flowers.

“You’re despicable,” I say and turn to watch the musicians. His arm wraps around my waist. He plucks a flower off the chain and pushes it behind my ear. A hand slips beneath the scant material over my stomach. His heat warms my back and I enjoy it for a moment, despite his hand. I’m surprised to even feel a pleasant shiver. I’ve never had that with him before. He spins me to face him.

“I am despicable and persistent,” he says, drawing out the word. “Just give in. I’ll make it worth your while.”

I laugh as the moment is broken and step out of his arms. I come against another warm barrier at my back. Hot, calloused hands rest on my upper arms.

I look at the hands and recognize them instantly. Jovan has a scar on his right pointer finger.

“You got the dress and shoes, I see,” the King says in his loud voice. The people around us share wide-eyed looks. I jam my foot on top of his booted toes. It has almost no effect in these soft sandals. Why did he say that? Now I’ll be insulted all night.

Sin and Jovan are having a stare off. I twist and look up at Jovan, but he ignores me, so I fold my arms and wait, foot tapping.

Sin finally breaks off his stare and after a final, glum look, he sighs and turns away. There’s a rumble from the hard chest behind me. Jovan’s scowling at the crowd around us. They suddenly find things to do.

“I’m having enough trouble convincing people we aren’t…you know, without you making announcements!” I hiss. His expression makes me falter. His eyes are dark and hot, scorching my skin. He plucks the flower out of my hair and chucks it on the ground.

“I knew that dress would look stunning on you, but those words don’t quite do it justice. You look unbelievable,” he says. I flush and look over him as an excuse to move my eyes from his.

He’s wearing a leather tunic. It’s black and tight with a few laces undone at the top. I swallow a few times as I take him in. A soft chuckle comes from the chest I’m having trouble looking away from. I wrench my gaze back to his, blinking at the dangerous smile on his face.

“I’ve danced with everyone I must for diplomacy’s sake. Will you dance with me now, for pleasure?” he asks.

I shake my head, “I don’t know how. We don’t dance on─” I gulp. “I don’t dance.”

He narrows his eyes at me, but doesn’t push the matter. For once.

I grab two drinks off a passing tray and hand him one.

He looks at it and sighs. “Fuck it.” He takes a sip.

I raise my eyebrows at him and he shrugs. “Don’t drink much,” he says.

I’m going to call him on his lie, when I realize it’s true. The only time I’ve ever seen him drunk was the night he first unveiled me.

My shoulders lose some of the tension I usually feel in his company as we continue to talk. After a couple of drinks he’s even as playful, as he occasionally is in private. It’s a shame he isn’t this free without the alcohol. But I understand, better than perhaps anyone else in this room, the pressures of having to act a certain way when you hold a position such as his.

“You’re monopolizing the prettiest woman in the room, Jovan. Give me a turn.” Ashawn approaches. Arla, who has been close by the whole time, flicks her hair and mutters something in reply. I have no doubt it’s uncomplimentary. Ashawn gives her a beaming smile until she turns away and then he rolls his eyes. A reluctant giggle is dragged from me. It’s the first good judgement I’ve seen him display.

“Brother, go away. You have to do your kingly duties for a while. The flock is growing restless,” he says. Jovan’s lip twitches in a smile.

He squeezes my hand as he leaves. My fingers move afterward, trying to remember the feeling.

“I hope he wasn’t boring you. I would have been here sooner to save you, but I was deep in preparations for tonight,” Ashawn says. It’s clear he’s had a fair amount to drink already. I follow him over to the cushions and he sits down, patting the spot next to him. I settle on the adjacent cushion and he laughs.

“Wait for it.” He points at Arla’s father, Drummond. I give him a strange look, and do as I’ve been directed.

A yell sounds across the room. Drummond turns. I cover my mouth with my hand and double over in fits of laughter. His trousers have split open - he isn’t wearing anything underneath. Ashawn chuckles beside me.

“Did you do that?” I ask in horrified amusement. He gives me a wink and gestures for drinks, handing me one.

“Don’t tell my brother. See you at the bottom,” he says. I look at him. What does that mean? He’s drinking as fast as he can. I follow suit after a few seconds.

“Tonight is my grand return. I’ve been remiss in my pranks for a while now,” he continues and looks down at the goblet in his hands.

“Because of your brother’s death?” I ask. It might be the least tactful comment I’ve ever made, but I feel safe asking. Every Bruma knows Prince Kedrick is dead.

He looks at me, surprised. “Yes. I guess so.”

We sip away at our drinks in silence. It doesn’t escape me this is completely wrong. I should hate Ashawn, and I know he hates me. The real me. I’m still sure he was behind hiring the three thugs who beat me last sector.

“And other things,” he says. I make a questioning sound, trying to remember what we’d been speaking about.

“There are things I’ve done in the last year I’m not particularly proud of. Things I wish I could take back and change. I did one terrible thing.”

My breath hitches. Is he talking about my beating? I chose my words carefully. “We all make mistakes. Especially when we’re grieving. What matters is we learn from them, try our best to fix them, and don’t make the same mistakes again,” I say and bite my lip before adding, “I would also point out a prince visiting the Outer Rings is not a good look for the King or for his rule.”

Ashawn gives me a tired smile. “I thought you must have seen me. I’m surprised you recognized me.” He chuckles and shrugs a shoulder. “The Outer Rings are fun. Since Kedrick’s gone, I feel there’s nothing for me to do. He was always my partner in crime.” Fun is the last word I’d use to describe the Outer Rings.

There’s no doubt that, like Kedrick, he’s inherited the trait of saying whatever he’s thinking. Maybe he can open up to a stranger with more ease than someone he knows. His confession has something to do with his young age and the amount of alcohol in his system.

“What about joining the King in his work?” I ask. Ashawn gives me a bitter look.

“My brother doesn’t want me around,” he mutters and rises quickly. I accept his help to stand, making sure I keep my parts covered.

I sway a little as I straighten and place a hand on his arm. I turn it into a consoling pat.

“I think you’re incorrect, Prince Ashawn,” I say. He looks at me and I detect the slightest bit of hope in his eyes. I smile at him and call out to Blizzard who is passing by.

“Don’t touch the fruit punch,” Ashawn whispers before handing me over.

I attempt to talk to Blizzard, but his attention is riveted on the musicians.

“Look at his guitar,” he says with longing. Most of his other comments regarding machine heads and fret board have confused me, but this one I can understand. His guitar is on its last leg. He could probably afford one if he didn’t give all of his money away.

Jovan is talking to Macy. I’m feeling courageous. I beckon him over. He raises his brow incredulously.

“I hope you’re ready to play for the assembly,” I say to Blizzard as the King approaches.

“What?” Blizzard splutters next to me.

“Did you just beckon me?” Jovan asks in a soft voice. I shiver as he bends his head to the crook of my neck. I remember my purpose and take a half step back, gesturing at Blizzard.

“Jovan, this is Blizzard. He plays guitar and has a beautiful voice. Can he play us a song on Tomi’s guitar?” I ask. Jovan snaps his head to me. The warning in his gaze confuses me. I feel like I should understand what he’s trying to tell me, but my mind is a little fuzzy. He waves one of his minions over and murmurs to them. Blizzard follows the guard, throwing me a look of nervous excitement.

“I think I better stay with you now,” Jovan says.

“Why?” I ask. He doesn’t answer as he tugs me after him. I pull my hand free.

“You should spend more time with your brother. He thinks you don’t want him around.”

Jovan grabs my hand again and weaves through the plush seating to the cushions in the far corner.

“What? He said that?” he speaks over his shoulder.

“Pretty much,” I say. Jovan looks thoughtful as he pulls me down beside him. I rearrange the skimpy parts of my dress when I see his gaze trailing down the strip of bare skin from my neck to the bottom of my stomach. I tap my finger where it’s resting on the thin chain over my hip. The movement catches his attention and I quickly stop.

Blizzard starts playing, blissfully distracting Jovan. People closest to the stage turn to watch. I close my eyes and listen.

“He’s very good. I would not have thought it of someone from the Outer Rings,” he says.

I grin at him. “You thought the only thing he was good at was brawling?” I ask. “You’d be surprised.” His interested expression encourages me. “Avalanche, for example, is an amazing cook. If he wanted to stay here, I’d recommend him for the kitchens.” I point at Shard. “Shard is amazingly intelligent. He has an ability to remove himself from a situation emotionally and consider it objectively. Ice, would make a great spy. And Blizzard cares so much about helping people in the Outer Rings it destroys him a little every time he can’t save someone,” I say.

“And what about the one who died?” he asks. My breath falters.

“Flurry? All he wanted was a kiss and a good mattress,” I say. My voice cracks and I blink back tears.

Jovan bends his head down and kisses my palm. My breath falters for an entirely different reason. I look up at him.

“I am sorry for my part in his death,” he says. Something uncoils at his words. Had I been blaming him, deep down?

“Does this mean you’ll close the dome?” I ask, grabbing drinks from a tray. Although we’re at the back, the staff goes out of their way to serve the King.

He shakes his head as he takes one. “No, that couldn’t be done. It has kept crime rates down for over a hundred years. It wouldn’t be feasible. I do, however, plan on offering an out to those who participate with honor.”

I rest my hand on his arm, feeling hard muscle. It’s a start. “Thank you.” That means more than his apology for Flurry’s death.

He frowns as he looks at my arm. “You’re cold.”

“No, I’m warm enough.” I look down and see I have raised bumps over my arms. I must be colder than I thought.

“You have goose bumps,” he says.

“Goose bumps?” I ask, looking at my arm. “Why would you call them that?”

He laughs. “You know what? I have no idea.” He starts tugging off his tunic.

“What are you doing?” I hiss. Is he insane? Jovan laughs again. I giggle, too. The sound is infectious. Some of that hidden charisma he possesses in droves is peeking out.

He hands me the tunic. “Put this on.” I look at him like he’s crazy and just in case he missed my look, I tell him.

“You’re cold, put it on. Some of the other women have a tunic on,” he says. I glance around and see he’s right. Many women wear them. And none of the half-naked males appear cold in the slightest. The First is the warmest time of revolution for them.

“Please.” The undercurrent in his tone has me reaching for the tunic. I ignore the few gasps as I take it.

“Here, you don’t want to mess your hair up.” He guides it over my head. “Your hair looks beautiful. It’s the same color as the gems on your shoes.”

Had he personally selected my shoes? I thought he’d ordered a minion to do it. I peek at him and give a tentative smile. I need more liquid courage for the conversation’s current direction.

“Where’s the dress from?” I ask.

He searches my face for a long while and then looks out over the slowly dancing crowd. It’s thinned considerably, couples no doubt ducking away to find a private corner or room. Sin dances with Arla. I grin and shake my head, not hurt in the slightest. Shard doesn’t seem happy about it, though. He stands by the goblet table, glaring their way.

“Shard, my friend, you’re better off,” I mutter.

“What?” Jovan says and I shake my head.

Ice and Blizzard are nowhere to be seen. I don’t think too long on what that means. Avalanche is scarfing back food at the table and, surprisingly, talking to Rhone.

“Do you know why every person, except Wrath, has refused to join my Watch?” Jovan murmurs, wrapping a strand of my hair around his finger, the one with the scar.

“Yes,” I say, a bit confused by the sensation he’s creating.

“Are you going to follow up that comment?” he asks.

I shrug. “What will you do for it?” I mimic his past answer.

He grips my face while I sit there bewildered, and moves in close. It’s like a gate lifts and I’m drowning in the hunger of his gaze.

“What do you want me to do?” he says softly. It’s his dangerous voice. I lick my dry lips. I can’t think of anything. I don’t know what his “pear” is.

“They’re too loyal to the barracks owners. Most of us were saved by Tricks and Alzona. They don’t feel like they can leave honorably, though most want to.” I reach my hand up and pry his hand off my chin, finger by finger. Jovan chuckles at my attempts and makes no move to help, or resist.

I yawn a little. His tunic feels like a blanket, still warm from his body. “Bedtime?” he asks. I giggle at how stupid the term sounds coming from his mouth.

He pulls me up.

People stare as we walk out. I know exactly what they’re thinking and I can’t bring myself to care. I wave at my friends. Shard raises an eyebrow at me. I raise one back and giggle again. What’s his problem?