Chapter Thirty-Two
I notice glances my way as soon as I merge in with the crowd. Cada is already standing on the fountain ledge, working the crowd like a professional.
“Ah, there she is!” she sings. I freeze. “Kalen’s precious native.” She giggles, and if I wasn’t having a normal conversation with her minutes ago, I would think she was drunk. “Let’s see if the Human can hold her liquor better than me.”
I feign a look of fear and turn away, but hands are already pressing against me, shoving me toward the fountain. The more I resist, the more aggressive they become, until I’m at the fountain ledge.
Kalen’s leaning against the ledge, laughing at something a guest is saying. His eyes shift when he sees me, and he straightens, his smile gone.
“Not her,” he says to Cada.
“Why not, Kalen?” she says. “What good is she if she can’t entertain?”
“She wouldn’t be very entertaining.” Kalen looks at me, his expression guarded, but then his lips break into that dazzling grin that makes all the girls swoon, and he lets out a chuckle and looks at Cada. “Seriously, Cada, she’s boring as a wasted fugon. I doubt she could even hold her liquor. Find someone else who’ll be more…entertaining. Like Briala.”
My mouth drops open. I understand why he would prefer Briala over me, but just hearing him verbalize it… I shake with the inexplicable rage. I have no excuse to be offended. We have no obligation to each other, especially after I turned him down.
“That’s what all the fun is about!” Cada grabs my wrist and yanks me onto the ledge. “Watching slaves puke their guts up.”
I glance at the edge of the crowd and find Zimri observing.
Kalen stares at Cada with hatred in his eyes. “And here I thought you were a xeno-lover.”
“Oh, I’m all for freeing the slaves,” Cada says. “Doesn’t mean we can’t play with them until then.” She turns to me. “Now you know the rules, right, Human? Loser has to take off an article of clothing.”
My eyes snap to hers. That was not part of the deal! She cringes a little, and I can see the apology in her eyes. I’m only wearing three pieces of clothing. And apart from the sip of whatever Cada just gave me earlier, I haven’t drank much in my life.
The Renegade. I’m a distraction. Maybe Giff will be finished with his mission before we get too far into the game.
Someone shoves a small glass of who-knows-what into my hands. I look at Ket’s mocking gaze as she wraps her arms around Kalen’s waist, claiming him, and something sparks inside of me. The picture of Ariana’s hands around Josiah’s chest flashes through my mind, igniting rage. I’m tired of being walked on by girls like Ariana and Ket. I’m tired of being invisible—always invisible—and the feeling of being unworthy. For once, I actually want to one-up all the mean girls. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but for the first time in my life, I want to be seen and heard.
“Are you ready, Human?” Cada asks, her dark eyes glittering with the challenge.
Lifting my chin, I stare her in the eye and lift my glass. “As we say on Earth, cheers.”
Tipping my head back, I begin chugging down the strong concoction. The liquor strikes sparks in the back of my throat and fills my stomach with hot fire, but I’m not going to quit now. Not in front of Kalen, who thinks I’m boring as a wasted fugon and can’t entertain. Not in front of all these arrogant parasites cheering out Cada’s name. Not when the Renegade is counting on me. I force the stuff down with each strenuous swallow until the last drop of liquid slides down my throat into my burning stomach. Blood rushes to my head. I lower the empty glass, cough-cough-coughing, then look at the crowd through the blur of tears caused by the strong drink. All eyes are on me.
“The Human won,” someone says in obvious shock. “Cheers to the Human!” Laughter fills the air. I look at Cada, who’s taking a hairpiece from her hair.
“A hairpiece, Cada?” I snort.
She stares at me, terror in her eyes. “What did you just call me?”
I cringe. Two drinks in and I’m already slipping out of my role. I quickly lower my gaze.
“Where in Terzu’s name did you get her, Kalen?” Ket asks, glowering at me. “I’ve never seen a Human act like that.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He twists out of Ket’s embrace and lifts his hand toward me, his eyes serious and almost dark. He’s not the humorous, lighthearted Kalen I’ve gotten used to at his parties. “Game’s over.”
My heart is pounding. I shouldn’t disobey him. I shouldn’t put him in the position to decide whether to let me be defiant or punish me in front of all his guests. I reach for his hand.
“Uh-uh.” Cada grabs my arm before I can step off the ledge. “We’re not finished yet. That was only round one.” She grabs two more glasses off the tray and passes one to me. “This game’s not over until one of us is. Stark. Naked.”
My entire body goes hot. Just the thought of stripping in front of these perverted Tavdorians, in front of Kalen… I almost regret my role tonight.
“Lark.” Kalen’s voice sounds through the loud voices and bombarding music. “You don’t have to do this.” His eyes are pleading.
“Yes, she does.” Sarka appears in the crowd. Perfect. All three Rydell heirs are here. “If she forfeits now, she’s declaring Cada the winner.” She smiles at her guests. “Am I right?”
They all shout in agreement.
Kalen gives a brief shake of his head. “Get down now, Lark. You don’t want to do this.”
“Aw, come on, Kale,” Sarka says. “You’re finally hosting a fun party. Why ruin it?”
He casts her a cursory glance, then holds his hand out to me. I stare at it, wondering why he suddenly cares what I do. I’m a worthless, boring as a wasted fugon Human who can’t entertain. And Giff hasn’t returned yet. I can’t let them down now. I turn toward Cada, accept the glass she offers, and begin to regret my decision when I see how big it is.
“Drink!” someone shouts. And they all begin chanting again. “Drink! Drink! Drink!”
And I can’t really do anything but obey, so I throw my head back, chug down the liquid, but this stuff is stronger than the last, and I drop the glass before finishing, my body wracking with a hard cough while my stomach tries to heave out the burning lava.
“Cada won,” Sarka sings, laughing. “Human takes off her clothes!”
“Lark—” Kalen’s voice sounds somewhere through the cheering and laughter.
“Can’t…let her win,” I say as I begin unwinding the short, short skirt. Not that it did any good, anyway. I’m suddenly glad I have matching underwear on, but I still feel way too exposed.
“Again, Human?” Cada asks, her eyes glittering in the dim light. “Or do you forfeit?”
Forfeit, my brain begs. But Giff still hasn’t returned. So I straighten and hold my hand out for another drink. “I never forfeit.”
Cheers fill the air. Cada counts to three, and we both throw our heads back. No coughing this time. I won’t allow it. I swallow each painful gulp, swallow each spark of fire that burns my throat and stomach, ignoring my body’s demand to hunch over and puke—when suddenly there’s nothing left and my glass is completely empty. A thrill courses through me, and I drop it on the concrete ground like poison.
“The Human won again!”
Cada narrows her eyes at me as she strips off her dress, although I’m wondering how much of it is an act on her part to keep me from utter humiliation—and drag the game out. We’re even now. We each have two articles of clothing left. Except she’s way more attractive than me, with smooth olive skin and a long slender torso and just an overall beauty that I don’t, and never will, possess.
“Another drink!” Ket demands through gritted teeth.
Oh, no. Not another one. What is taking Giff so long? I don’t know if I can get another drink down. I should stop. I should just step down—but already a shot glass is placed in my hands and people are shouting and Sarka’s counting, and next thing I know, I’m tipping my head back and swallowing more liquor. My throat is numb to the burning now; my mind doesn’t even bother registering the strength of the drink. Someone shouts in disgust. Others laugh out loud. I lower my glass to find Cada hunched over, puking on the side of the fountain. Others leap out of the way, groaning in disgust. Oh, wait, what? She lost. Which means—
“The Human wins!” Sarka says.
Maybe it wasn’t an act. People stare at me in shock while Edan pounds Kalen on the back as though Kalen trained me to do this. At the back of the crowd, I catch a glimpse of Zimri turning away now that the entertainment is over. He begins heading down the trail—straight toward the estate where Giff is.
“Un. Believable,” Ket sneers.
“What’s the matter, Ket?” I speak the words loud enough to get Zimri’s attention. He pauses on the trail. “Can’t handle that a Human actually won?” I press.
Zimri slowly turns, smiling in dark amusement. An outspoken, rebellious slave—that’s all he needs to convince his father to get rid of me.
“You slut!” Ket screams.
“Me?” I arch a brow at Ket and cross my arms. “I’m sorry, but I’m not the one who sleeps with the richest man just to gain popularity.” Relief washes over me as I see Zimri out of the corner of my eye, walking back to watch the show. “You wanted me to compete,” I add with a shrug. “And now everyone knows who can hold her liquor, and who’s nothing but an insecure, jealous bitch.”
Shocked whispers ripple through the crowd. Her mouth drops open, heated anger and blind hatred filling her violet eyes. She strides forward, her hands lifting to shove me off the fountain, but Kalen blocks her path.
“Let it go, Ket,” he mutters.
The spark in her eyes wages into a raging fire. “Are you really going to let her speak to me like that?”
Kalen wears his winning grin and he laughs. “I honestly can’t control her.”
I can’t stop my own laughter. But then my gaze shifts, and my eyes meet Zimri’s. He’s standing in the crowd again, his arms crossed, his eyes glinting in a way that makes my blood curdle. But at least he’s here and not discovering Giff in the study.
“Give her another drink,” someone shouts. They’re clearly enjoying the show. “Bring up another competitor!”
Oh, no. I can’t do this again. Briala arrives with a drink and passes it to me.
“You’re going to get in trouble,” she whispers. “You’re supposed to let them win.”
But it’s Sarka who takes the glass. “I’ve had enough of that game.” She gestures toward Briala. “More drinks, please. No one is getting naked.” She rolls her eyes and tosses me my skirt, and I can’t help but think that Sarka is a really good sister to Kalen.
More drinks are served, these are more fruity and delicious than the other ones. How many is this now? Six? Seven? Each drink is easier to swallow than the last, and the music seems more alive than it did minutes ago. The world seems better, brighter, less threatening and more welcoming while all my troubles disappear like a mist. Sarka’s laughter fills the air when we finish the next drink, and we place our empty glasses on the tray.
I look at the crowd now merging together in a blur. I look at Sarka—er—double Sarka laughing hysterically at something Bec is saying. A new song comes on and everyone cheers. It’s apparently a big hit, because I hear it on my ear dials so often that I have it memorized. The music bombards my ears, wrapping around me and lifting my spirit, and I find myself singing along.
“Quick!” Sarka shouts. “Grab two mics!”
Giff appears from the crowd, leaps onto the fountain, and places a square sticker on my cheek. I take a startled step back at the sight of him.
“Giff,” I say just loud enough for him to hear. “Did you—”
“Yup. The deed is done.”
Perfect.
“But, what are you doing—” I don’t have to finish my question because my answer is in my own voice coming through the speakers with the music. The square sticker is a mic. Sarka has one pasted on her cheek. too, and she begins singing the lyrics in an off-key voice with slurred speech mixed with hearty giggles. Her voice comes through the speakers with the music as though she were the actual singer.
But Sarka looks at me expectantly as she draws close to the end of the verse, and I realize I’m supposed to sing along. In front of all these Tavdorians. Usually the notion would terrify me, but right now, everything is perfect in the world. All is well. Everyone is cheering and some singing, and though I don’t have to entertain anymore, I’m having too much fun to back down.
So when Sarka’s verse ends, I take a deep breath and pick up the next line, stumbling over a few words, but keeping up with the speedy lyrics just enough to keep the crowd entertained. The chorus comes on and Sarka and I belt the words out, linking arms and using each other to balance ourselves out as we step past each other on the ledge. We sing through another verse, and by the time the song’s over, I’m out of breath, but so, so elated.
“Kalen you didn’t tell us you owned a singer,” someone shouts. “She’s better than Shree Britt!”
I grin at the compliment. Everything in this very moment is perfection and I really wouldn’t mind if this night never ever ended. I dance, and then I spin around and around on the fountain ledge—my own makeshift stage—soaking in the beauty of this moment. I pause to catch my breath, and find Kalen standing at the edge of the fountain, his eyes on mine. And the look I find there—the adoration, the wonder, the pure, unadulterated fascination—it makes something well inside me. Something warm and magical. Love. Joy. The feelings multiply and can’t help but spin around again, this time for him.
But—big mistake. The ground suddenly shifts below my feet and the trees start spinning and the crowd starts spinning and everything is spinning. Sarka reaches for me, and I grip her hand, but gravity is too strong and suddenly I’m falling—falling—falling—
Cool water rushes into my mouth, my ears, my eyes. I push myself to the surface suck in a gasp of air. The thrill of the fall sends adrenaline rushing through my veins, and laughter bubbles out of me. Sarka must have fallen in with me, because she’s grabbing my shoulder, snorting water out of her nose and saying something unintelligible before erupting into another fit of laughter. The music pulses around me, vibrant and alive. And I feel alive. More alive than I have in a long, long time.
“Lark,” Kalen whispers from the edge of the fountain. The wonder in his eyes is gone, replaced with caution. “That’s enough. Time to go.” His lips pull down in a tight frown. Where’s the grin I saw moments ago? Where’s the fascination?
“You’re sssuch a ssstickler, Kalen.” I clamor out of the fountain, but my foot hooks on the ledge and I stumble forward. Kalen grabs my elbow to steady me. His warm touch sends such a shudder of delight up my arm and down my spine into my toes that I can’t help but giggle just a little.
“People are staring.” He rips the mic off my cheek and tosses it on the ground. “They’ve never seen a Human act so bold. And the way you sang—the way you danced just now…” He shakes his head. “Some of the men may get aggressive with you.” His grip tightens on my elbow. “Please. Let me get you out of here.”
He’s irritated. And I hate that his mood could rub off so quickly on me. Why can he act like he actually cares when he doesn’t give a toad’s warts about me? He called me boring as a wasted fugon.
“You’re so tricky, Kalen.” I speak slowly, enunciating every word. “Kalen the slave trader, suddenly concerned for the potential damage done to his property.” I place my hand on my head in feigned dismay and speak in his proper Tavdorian accent. “Oh, mother of the two moons. What are we going to do?” I trip and fall back into his arms, a delightful giggle erupting out of me.
“Please, Lark. Not here.” He glances at the others. I follow his gaze. A few men stare at me with salacious grins. My gut curls in disgust. I scan the crowd, and my eyes land on Zimri. He stares right back, a knowing smile on his face. Bastard.
“Your brother’s here,” I mutter. “I think it’s time I give him a piece of my mind—”
“Oh, no you don’t.” Kalen grabs both my shoulders and steers me in the opposite direction, but I trip over something and I’m falling again and I try to catch myself, but my feet won’t cooperate, and just before my chin hits the ground, I’m swooped up. His arms are strong and warm and firm around my body.
“I’ve got you,” Kalen whispers against my ear. His breath sends a shiver down my spine. I like his voice. It’s deep and gentle, yet full of so much sexy authority.
The party lights fade in the distance with the music and laughter as we meander toward the estate. I feel dizzier than before. And a little sick.
“Sstop moving sso much,” I moan. “You’re making me dizzy.” I tug at his shirt, try to wiggle out of his arms, but his grip is too firm. Finally, I surrender. I lay my head back and watch the bright green bioluminescent trees pass by in a blur while I listen to his rapid, unsteady heartbeat thud against my ear.
“This is by far the bessst night of my liiife,” I say. Who would have thought entertaining for the sake of the Renegade could be so thrilling?
“Is it, now?” Kalen asks, bemused.
“Mmm-hmm.”
His lavender eyes light with a hint of humor. I reach up and touch his beautiful lips, now tipped up in a small smile. Holy crow, I want to kiss him again. The memory of his lips on mine last night flits through my mind, and desire pools deep in my stomach.
“Will you kiss me again, Kalen?”
He looks down at me, his eyes widening a fraction and his lips parting just enough to release a shocked breath. “What?”
“Kiss me like you did last night in the courtyard.”
He shakes his head and looks away. “You’re not thinking clearly, Lark.”
“My head is as clear as the night stars.” I lift my gaze toward the clear sky. The trees whirl above me in a blur of green-and-purple bioluminescence while the music fades into the background.
And then there’s nothing but darkness and a sweet citrusy scent consuming my senses.