“Insult to a guest is an insult to me.”
Something Neha had said long ago to the child Mahiya had been when she’d returned to the fort for a visit during a break in her schooling. She’d never liked those visits, her time at the school with Jessamy the happiest of her life. The censure that particular day hadn’t been personal, and yet the way the archangel had looked at her had made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickle in warning.
The instant Neha had left, she’d run back to the nanny who looked after her when she was at the fort, the same one who’d later told her nothing she’d ever do would please Neha.
“Why doesn’t the lady like me?”
Her nanny’s stern face set into a frown before she gave a curt nod. “You’re old enough to know. Though you must never repeat this in public, your father is Eris, Neha’s consort. Your mother was Neha’s sister, Nivriti.”
She was small, didn’t immediately understand. “They shared a consort?”
Horror filled her nanny’s expression. “Never speak such filth, child.” Putting away the tunic she’d been folding, she shut the dresser. “Your mother seduced a man who was not her own, and she bore the fruit of their ugliness.”
Me, Mahiya thought, the fruit is me. “I’m ugly?”
A sigh, a softening in her nanny’s face. “You are not ugly, child, but you remind my lady of that ugliness. It is a testament to her kind nature that you are given all the rights and privileges of a princess.”
The latter, of course, was a lie. But even Mahiya would concede that Neha’s treatment of her while she’d been a minor had been scrupulous. Perhaps there’d been no warmth, but there’d been no abuse, either. She’d attended the Refuge school, studied in its libraries—and there, she’d had access to Jessamy’s kindness and guidance, felt what it was to be loved, for the Teacher loved all her students.
Then she’d come “home,” turned a hundred . . . and learned that Neha’s cruelty had simply been saved for the adult that hopeful, innocent child had become. The man who stood beside Neha was proof enough of that cruelty—even if the archangel hadn’t ordered the seduction, she hadn’t warned Mahiya about Arav’s duplicitous courtship, either, making certain that Mahiya’s first taste of romantic love would be a bitter one.
“You didn’t tell me you had spoken with Mahiya.” Neha’s voice was silk over steel.
Arav’s cheeks creased in a smile that glowed with charm. “We passed as I was on my way to speak to you.” He favored Mahiya with a condescending look of approval. “I did not say how glad I am to see you looking so well.” Raising his glass, he took a sip of wine, the square ring on his index finger flashing vivid blue in the candlelight, the stone a rare form of tourmaline.
“He is like a peacock, spreading his feathers and squawking loudly . . .”
“Thank you,” she said with a smile so dazzling, it took Arav visibly aback.
Small crystalline sounds silvered through the air as the glass bangles on Neha’s wrist moved against one another. “Come. Let us be seated.” Her gaze landed on Jason. “As guest at the fort, you sit on my left. Arav can entertain Mahiya—they are great friends.”
Mahiya felt an ineffable tension radiating off the man next to her, though his expression remained opaque, and she knew it was because of her. She also knew she couldn’t allow him to make an enemy of an archangel in an effort to spare her from Arav’s attentions. “Actually,” she said with a quick smile, “I see scholar Quinn across the room. I’ve just read his newest treatise, and I promised him I would talk with him about it.”
Neha didn’t bristle—the vampire was one of her favorites. That mattered less than the fact that Jason was no longer a blade about to be unsheathed.
*
“All in all,” Mahiya said to Jason after the tea had been served and they were readying themselves to return to their palace, “it was not so terrible a dinner party.” Quinn had been a lovely companion, and Neha had been so engrossed in conversation with Rhys and Jason that she’d ignored Arav most of the night. “Arav has no idea who he’s dealing with—Neha’s playing with him as a cat does with a mouse.”
Jason’s response to her murmured supposition was silence. She didn’t read anything into it. He was, she thought as they walked out and began to cross the courtyard, thinking about the subject before he replied. “Temperature’s dipped.” Still, the night air was relatively balmy—though when she glanced up, it was to see the stars hidden by fat clouds that threatened rain.
When something fell from that sky, she thought it must be a bird, it was such a tiny thing. But then it grew bigger and bigger and—“Jason!”