The Cursed Deal ✓

Chapter 43

"We have one specific plan," Faine said as she smoothed out the pale pink skirt of her square-necked gown. "We need to follow that plan from start to finish, otherwise, this is a failure. Going into that banquet and walking around like lost dogs is not an option."

Sitting on the bed in the inn room, the back of his head rested against the wooden headboard and his ankles crossed together, Ilian rolled his eyes. Those words had left her lips too many times to count over recent days after the plan they developed not only received complimentary remarks from Celestia but jealous murmuring from the rest that heard. There were benefits to pairing up with a mortal, they were just too foolish to realize it.

"I understand the plan," Ilian promised, though his tone did not convey an expression of desire for what they were about to face. "I only wish we had chosen something else. I don't like being paraded around like a dog; I believe no one does, to be honest." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and walked towards the mirror she stood in front of to readjust his hair.

With a gold-dusted hand, Ilian pushed back the black hairs off his forehead and they swooped back down a second later. Faine crossed her arms over her chest. "You need reinforcements."

"I need the saliva of a gadigator to fix my hair." He sighed and turned back towards her. The golden accents in his frock coat extended onto his shoulders from the lapels to the collar. A subtle blend transferred from the velvet coat to the waistcoat of silver, black, and gold swirling together in a pool of metallic blend. Splaying his arms wide and seemingly forgetting about the somewhat decent hair on his head, Ilian asked, "Does this fit the look of a mortal under a geas?"

Faine straightened out the golden chain connecting the two lapels together. She looked him up and down, starting with the strapped leather boots and black pants billowing from their calf reach. "It's not the outfit that defines your lost soul, it's how you behave around others. What you wear is only a way for you to blend in. If I could, I'd give you pointed ears so the majority of the banquet would leave you alone."

She slid on a beaded necklace that hugged against her neck, the black stones draped like teardrops against her chest. The swooping design resembled silk drapes and cradled her visible skin in swoops and folds.

"There is no going back, anyway," Ilian supposed with a shrug. "If only you hadn't mentioned this horrendous plan to Celestia in the first place."

"I'm not the only one benefiting from this." Faine attached the black ear cuffs, those falling like raindrops off her ears, too. "All you have to do is sit there and look pretty. No one expects anything more from you, and if they believe you are under the influence of a geas, then they know they can't touch you. Another immortal has already made their claim."

Ilian grimaced and handed over her sharp earrings. "Don't speak like that is a common occurrence. I know how claiming works."

She flashed him an apologetic look. It was mentioned during their meeting with Celestia as a way of reinforcement to ensure no one attempted to use Ilian for something he wasn't meant for. To drink the wine of immortals would turn him into a bubbling mess, and then he'd really lose his senses until the night was over.

Faine was the one that mentioned it first, believing he'd be more than willing to give himself up for only the night. A simple claim from an immortal was sinking their teeth into the skin of another, and if that claim sealed within, it lasted until the end of both lives. But Faine's claim would only extend as far as she wished it. Once the night was over, she'd remove her hold on him and Ilian wouldn't have to worry about that again. Immediately, without giving it a second thought, he opposed the idea and swore that would never happen. They'd have to find another way to protect him from the inevitable.