A Court of Spark and Shadow; acotar

xxi. depravity.

Warning; this chapter features mention and implied sexual coercion. 

Head pounding, I spin around and shove my way into the crowd.

The orchestra plays a cheery tune. The notes are lovely and high-pitched, a Summer Court melody. My stomach rolls.

Bodies plow into me as I claw my way through them. Drunken fae bend back their heads, their pointed teeth glowing under the sparkling candlelight. Liquid from glasses splatters onto my dress as the music increases its tempo, sending the gathering into a dancing fever.

As I struggle through the crowd, I try to make sense of what I have seen.

Eris kissing the Shadowsinger. His pink lips pressed furiously onto Azriel's. The countenance in their eyes when they pulled back and observed each other.

I never suspected they had grown so close. Have all of their meetings involved tongues down each other's throats?

I look back over my shoulder but the crowd is too thick to see if either of them has followed after me. I don't know what I would say to them if they have. Is it any of my business what they do when I am not around? Eris is a High Lord, and we are not married yet. What and who he chooses to do is not my concern.

Pivoting back around, my eyes are on the floor when I tumble into a vigorous, thick body. Instinctively, my hands lift to steady myself. Looking up, I see that my hands are on the soft material of the male's chest. I immediately take a hurried step back.

"Hmm, I knew we would speak again however, I didn't expect that you would run into me quite so literally," the High Lord states, as the edges of his pink lips pull up into the slightest of smiles. His smile is not sweet. Or pleasant. It appears forced and unnatural on his gold, handsome face.

"I am sorry, Lord Tamlin. I wasn't watching where I was going," I explain hurriedly.

Looking around for an escape from the thick wall of bodies, I find nothing but skin on skin—my head pounds. I drank far too much, far too quickly.

"Is something the matter, Belladonna?" His voice is soft but not kind, as his green eyes gleam down at me.

The pounding in my head grows. My vision swirls and reels as I shake my head at the High Lord. "Nothing is the matter, Lord Tamlin, please excuse my impotence," the floor spins, "I believe I require fresh air. I don't do well in crowds,"

He chuckles, and the sound vibrates through my tingling skin, deep and powerful. He places his large, tan hand on mine as he says, "Neither do I,"

Too stunned and emotional to protest, I let the High Lord pull me through the crowd of the fae. My world spins as we pass by fae with blue hair and translucent wings, fae with lightly tinted green skin, and fae with flaming orange eyes that pierce through me as the High Lord tugs me roughly. Looking up toward the high wooden roof, the flickering flames on the chandeliers grow and twirl until they become a tangled mess of fire. Autumn Court wine is much richer than I am used to.

"Come, Belladonna, let us get some fresh air. We can sit on the patio," the High Lord says as he reaches a set of stained, mosaic doors. There are no guards, so Tamlin pushes open the doors effortlessly, pulling me through after him. As we step out onto the small patio, I look over my shoulder back at the ball. Before Tamlin shuts the doors, I swear I see shadows reaching out through the crowd toward me. But before I can peer closer, the ball is diminished as the doors shut and the world becomes still.

Turning, I step away from the High Lord and lean against the patio's railing. The view, despite the darkness, is still breathtaking. We overlook the waterfall, the sound of water crashing on the rocks below louder than the orchestra that continues to play. The warm, fresh air feels delightful on my tingling skin as I watch the water. My head still pounds, but the quiet dulls it.