A simple keyhole neckline flattered her sharp collarbones, and she wore no jewelry, save for a sterling cuff at her wrist.
I realized she, too, bore the eye-mark on the underside of her wrist, though hers was partially concealed by the cuff. The others flocked around them, forming a half circle.
“What a pleasant surprise,” Devereaux said by way of greeting.
Despite his polite demeanor, the cold gleam in his silvery eyes reminded me that he was every inch the cunning vulture. I stiffened as Evren assessed me from the shiny heels on my feet to my dark, sleek curls. I glanced down to see that my dress had ridden up, and the tattoo was once again visible. Silently cursing, I tugged it down, but too late—he’d seen. His lips twisted into a smirk, relishing my discomfort.
“She a new pet of yours, Wrayburn?” Evren taunted.
I recoiled at the wordpet.
Casimir offered him a cold smile that did not meet his eyes. “Never you mind, Evren,” he replied coolly. His voice was calm, but the way his muscles coiled with tension was apparent as he angled his body in front of mine, shielding me from Evren and Devereaux’s scrutiny. “Either way, she’s off limits.”
Evren’s smirk twisted into a scowl. “You never did like to share,” he commented, and I stiffened at the implication behind his words.
How well did Casimir really know these Daemons? The others, whose names I could not immediately recall, merely looked bored.
Evren sneered. “She’s not even pretty.”
I bristled, not at the insult, but at the burning, bitter residue that coated my tongue like campfire smoke. Evren was lying? That was… interesting. But which statement was the lie? When someonetold multiple lies in a row, it was hard to catch the right one.
“Tell me, Evren, do mortal girls often reject you? I only ask because you sound quite bitter,” I said, giving him a saccharine smile.
He scowled in return. Let them see that I could play their game, too.
“My tastes are not so debased as the Darkseer’s, girl,” Evren spat. “Mortals are far beneath my notice.”
I shifted in discomfort as I caught the edge of steel on my tongue. Evren was lying, and I didn’t know what to do with that information.
“Yes, unfortunately, we are all too familiar with your tastes,” Casimir said wryly.
Beside him, I stiffened. Was Casimir referring to Evren’s courting of Isolde?
Casimir continued, “Remember this,Bludkravk, it’s not your looks that make women scorn you.” He flashed me a wicked smile.
A flurry of titters resounded among the nameless ones who stood just behind him, and even Veronika was fighting to hide a smirk. The thrill of watching Casimir defeat Evren in a verbal sparring match was enough to make this evening worthwhile.
Evren’s nostrils flared with outrage. “How dare—” he began.
But Devereaux interjected, “Come now, Evren. It’s pointless to deny what all of us have sense enough to see. And tonight, dear Miss Farrow looks positively delicious.” Beneath the faerie lights, his teeth gleamed most unnaturally.
Beside me, Casimir had gone tense. I glanced at him in time to watch comprehension flash briefly across his face, and in a blink it was gone. Nausea roiled in my stomach. I was beginning to regret the several glasses of champagne I’d downed earlier in the evening.
Veronika suddenly turned her elegant head in my direction. “Why don’t you let these three idiots finish their sparring match?” she suggested with a nod toward the manor. “August is waiting for you in the foyer.”
I stared at her in bewilderment. I’d just seen August not half an hour ago. What did he want now? Though I had to admit that the offer to get away from the veranda was tempting.
With a meaningful glance to Casimir that I hoped conveyed my silent request that he come and find me afterward, I exited through the wide French doors. If the party had been wild prior to our venturing out onto the veranda, by now it was positively riotous, the air thick with sweating bodies and the sounds of drunken bacchanalia.
I pushed through the throng of writhing bodies in the foyer, the silky material of my dress sticking to my skin in uncomfortable places as sweat pooled along my back and at the nape of my neck. I quickly realized it was going to be impossible to locate August in this crowd.
“Arden,” a voice shouted above the din. “Arden, over here.”
I spun around to see August’s flaming red hair emerge into view. He stood on the staircase and waved a hand, urging me to follow him upstairs.
I made for the staircase, trying to catch up, but August had already disappeared from view. At the top of the stairs, I found myself standing in a long, dark corridor. I took a tentative step into the narrow hallway, my gaze passing over the ornate family portraits framed along the wall, pausing when I reached a large door at the end of the hall, hesitating with my fingers on the knob.
“August?” I called out. Only silence met my inquiry. No one else was up here. Where the hell was he? Out of the shadows, a hand reached out to seize my wrist. Another pressed flat across my mouth, stifling my surprised gasp for air.