Blessed by Sapphires (A Dance with Destiny Book 2) (29 page)

Chapter 39

Cashiel

(ka-SHEE-eel)

Larie led our little group out of her modest shop and down the darkened street.

Many
night people
joined our procession as we made our way to the large stone arena outside the city proper, almost an hour’s walk away.

The night was pleasant, the company even more so. We arrived before I realized it. Altogether, slightly over two hundred sets of sandaled feet made the journey with us. A grand feast had been set and festive music welcomed our arrival.

Larie was right. No one cared about my scar, my eyes, or my hair. The only stares I drew were in admiration.

Perhaps there is some place I can fit in. Perhaps there are many places like Falacrin in this universe. I may not be as lonely as I had feared.

The last time I’d laughed this hard was while watching Vareilious and Vittorio act out a recent summons that had paired the two of them up, a rare thing.

Spending nights like this was exactly what I needed. Tonight, the pain was easy to forget. I savored it wholly. I ate too much, laughed too hard, danced too long, and partook of
way
too much wine.

By the time a drum roll announced the arrival of our honored host, I’d caught a bad case of the giggles. When I concentrated enough to focus on the balcony at the far end of the arena, I realized we had not one host, but thirteen radiantly garbed people who stood before us.

“Brothers, sisters, countrymen, and honored guests… Gratitude for your presence at our sacred gathering. The Feast of Frivolity has been too long in coming, dear friends. I do not look forward to its ending at dawn. Join me in a toast and let the Procession of Tribute begin.”

Everyone cheered and drank heartily after the enchanting voice had ceased its oration. The speaker was most certainly gifted with powerful magic. Not only his words, but the sound of his voice left me feeling warm. It washed away my cares. Of course, the wine helped a little, too.

When the music started up again, the dancing soon followed. The Thirteen descended into the arena, mingling amongst the joyous partiers. Even though I was a bit tipsy and prone to fits of giggling, I tried to focus on The Thirteen, tried to glean what I could by their appearance and mannerisms alone. I kept losing my concentration, easily distracted by the next sparkly thing that crossed my line of vision. I mentally punished myself for not maintaining focus. But no alarms or warnings were blaring in my head. I remained blissfully at ease.

The Thirteen didn’t dress as the day people of Praetoria, nor were they arraigned as the gathered night folk I counted myself among. They didn’t look to be of the same bloodline, they weren’t kin. But their apparel was similar, not identical, but very close in design.

Uniforms, perhaps?

There was something especially enticing about them. They weren’t any more or less attractive than all the other partygoers. But the grace with which they moved was captivating, they glided. Their elegance and posture reminded me of the ever-regal Vareen. They exuded a sense of power, a sense of nobility.

Larie was simply buzzing by the time one of The Thirteen reached our table.

“Oh, Josephine. You look simply radiant this evening,” she said.

“Gratitude. You look lovely as ever, Larie,” Josephine replied.

Everyone began to talk in unison, swapping compliments and idle chatter. I was enjoying the fun my new friends were having with one another when a different one of The Thirteen unceremoniously plopped down in the seat next to me—placing his booted feet noisily upon the table, rattling the plates and wine glasses.

I turned to find the man casually leaned back on two legs of his chair, women flocking around him.

“Ahh, I am weary from standing and wish only to remain seated now,” he said, to no one in particular.

“Show proper manners in front of our new guest, Decimus. She may mistake you for a commoner, a mere ruffian.”

The tall, older man spoke with a voice that could only be described as dignified. He deftly swept Decimus’s feet off the table, causing the younger man’s chair to slam back down on all four legs. Decimus seemed unfazed. Apparently, this was a common occurrence between the two of them.

“Apologies for my young friend’s crass behavior, Milady. Sadly, respect often comes with age.” The older gentleman took my hand and kissed it. “Two things in which I fear he is greatly lacking.” He smiled at me but cut his eyes toward his younger companion. “My name is Cashiel.” He bowed. “I am honored to make your acquaintance.”

“Jenevier Embarr, and the pleasure is all mine.” I smiled and inclined my head.

“Oh, I doubt that sincerely, Lady Embarr. I say, without reservation, you are the loveliest maid at the feast. Alas, I must beg your pardon now, Milady. Duty pulls me from your side. Please enjoy the rest of your evening.” Cashiel once again bowed gracefully and then departed.

“Don’t let his sweet words lift your spirits
too
highly. He says such to everyone.” Decimus spoke without looking at me. He was examining his manicured nails, seemingly rather bored with the whole affair.

“Trouble not your heart, good Decimus,” I said. “Mere words cannot raise my spirits any more than they can lower them. I am not a child—easily swayed by flattery
or
disdain.”

He raised one eyebrow, turning to look at me for the first time.

We were approached by another member of The Thirteen. “Ah, I see you’re winning over new friends as usual, Decimus.” He was daylight to Decimus’s darkness, and all smiles.

I mentioned before that The Thirteen did not favor in looks. Cashiel had long graying hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Josephine had extraordinarily light blonde hair pulled up in a harsh bun atop her head. Decimus’s plain brown hair was cropped short and laid perfectly in place. But the man before us now couldn’t have been more different were it his intent. His hair was parted in the middle, the tips of which brushed the tops of his shoulders. One side was as white as fresh snow, the other was likened unto fire. His hair blew with the breeze, flowed with his movements. But not once did I see the two sides mingle. His severe part was the border each side dared not cross.

I know now why Larie thought I should have no problem blending in with the night people of Praetoria. They just keep getting curiouser and curiouser.

“Loveliest of ladies, my name is Jago. I am humbled by your grace and beauty.”

Jago knelt on the ground before my chair. I saw Decimus roll his eyes.

“Did you not hear the lady, Jago?” Decimus’s mouth was turned up in a harsh smirk. “She cannot be swayed by flattering words
nor
bowing at her feet.”

I smiled sweetly. “Mind him not, Lord Jago.” I winked at the dual-toned man kneeling before me. “I never said anything about bowing.”

Decimus rolled his eyes again, but he no longer seemed quite as bored as before.

“Come, beautiful creature,” Jago said. “The night is full of magic and I wish to experience it with
you
. Would you grace me with an honored dance?”

He took my hand and helped me up. Actually, he insisted I stand.

“I fear I’ve been too long with the wine, Sir Jago. I may stumble and embarrass Your Grace.”

“Nonsense,” he said dismissively. “I will lift you up and be your constant support.”

Wrapping his arm around my waist, Jago whisked me toward the dance circle. Apparently, declining was not an option.

As the darkness of night began to lessen with the approaching dawn, the obvious spokesman for The Thirteen, Hamish, stepped forward and raised his hands.

“The sunrise will bring an end to Beltane, our holiest of all holidays. Come now and let the offering be given, ensuring us another bountiful year. A year rich with love, rich with harmony, and wholly blessed with many beautiful offspring.” He looked to his companions. “Has the sacrifice been approved?”

The remaining twelve members had joined their leader, each nodding to him in turn.

“It is settled. Come, dear friends, and let us partake of the sacred wine of life and fertility.”

A table was set in the midst of the arena and a giant silver bowl was placed in its center. Larie, myself, and each of our original party was given a bottle of wine.

“Just follow my lead,” Larie whispered.

She led us to the ornate bowl and poured her bottle in, emptying it entirely, shaking out every last drop. I did as she had and each lady followed suit until the bottles had all been drained. The Thirteen gathered around the half-filled basin, joining hands as they began chanting. Jago turned, offered his hand to Larie, and led her into the circle. Josephine turned, took the hand of another girl standing near me, and their chanting circle closed once more.

I didn’t understand their words nor could I see what was happening within. Their ominous rhythm came to an abrupt halt as the last within our party, save me, was pulled within the circle.

“The time of the sacrifice is ripe.”

The Thirteen parted at Cashiel’s proclamation, revealing my new friends standing opposite the basin from me. Larie held her hand over the bowl and Jago pierced her palm with a strange metal claw he now wore upon his right finger. Larie smiled, her face lit up as she clenched her hand into a fist. The drops of blood hitting the wine made a sickening thick
plop
.

“Thirteen drops from each maiden called. Thirteen drops of magic blood. May each bear a child this night,” Jago chanted.

“Because the night is full of magic,” the entire assembly echoed.

I stood there, bewildered, as each member from The Thirteen led a woman to the bowl and repeated Jago’s words with the crowd responding in kind. When each had taken their turn, there remained only Decimus and I.

Raising one eyebrow, I cocked my head slightly when he turned to look at me. “Do you have something you wish to ask of me, good Decimus?”

His smirk was even more blatant than it had been. “I had no intention of
asking
.”

Josephine and Cashiel grabbed my arms. I didn’t resist them.

I chuckled. “Why so much ado over thirteen little drops of blood?”

“With the last moments of our sacred Beltane,” Hamish announced. “We
fill
the Basin of Life with a most rare and beautiful sacrifice.”

“Because the night is full of magic,” the crowd responded.

One corner of my mouth pulled back in a taunting grin. “I see. So, you need a little
more
than thirteen drops from me. Is that it? Tell me. Who’s this honored deity that they should claim my life?”

“For thousands of years we have worshipped only the Goddess Ashtoreth, and given only unto her what she requires. No more and no less,” Hamish answered.

I gasped. “Thousands of years? You mean to tell me you’ve murdered
thousands
of innocent women to honor a demon?”

“Hold your tongue, Witch,” Cashiel hissed. “Or I shall rip it from your mouth.”

I looked deep into the older man’s graying eyes and saw exactly what I’d expected. Silently, I cursed my wine-addled mind. Had I been master of my faculties, I could have easily seen the ancient man for what he was when first he approached me.

Leaning against him, I tiptoed and quickly licked his neck. Cashiel yelled, jumping back when my tongue touched his flesh. I burst out with laughter at what I tasted within him. Decimus tore me away from Josephine, placing a blade to my throat. I kept my gaze fixed on Cashiel.

“Tell me, old man. What could you have possibly done to be forever parted from your wings? It seems an almost unbearable fate for one who once stood so high.” A cruel chuckle emanated from my lips.

He gasped. “Wha-what
are
you?”

“Me?” I cocked one eyebrow and held my arms out wide, displaying the whole of me. “Why, I am your rare sacrifice, am I not?”

“Decimus, check her hand,” Cashiel yelled frantically. “Upon her finger, is she marked?”

“Aye, that I am, O Fallen One.”

I placed my hand over Decimus’s and changed to Vashti. He released the blade, stumbling back.

Jago gasped loudly. “By all that’s holy…”

“Ah, ah, ah, now let us not bring God into this, Jago.” I smiled sweetly. “We were speaking only of demons and fallen Angels. Is that not right, Cashiel?”

“Tell me who you are,” he demanded.

“
My
name isn’t the important one here. You wouldn’t know of it. You have been gone too long and I am yet a newborn. But my husband… well,
him
you may have heard of.” I chuckled wickedly. A tingling of darkness fluttered within my wings. “Pray, tell me of your twelve friends. Or shall I taste them as well?”

“Hamish, kill her!” Cashiel yelled.

I barely flexed my shoulders, expanding my lethal wings just as the man charged me. He ran straight into one and was sliced completely in two. I released my angelic mask but retained my diamond weapons as the crowd screamed, running from the arena, leaving me alone with the twelve left standing from The Thirteen.