Unbridled joy surged in my chest, every nerve in my body alight with pleasure. I gazed around at the dancers in starry-eyed wonder, my blood humming to the beat of the music, and I was utterly enchanted, lost in a garden of earthly delights. I couldn’t remember why I’d been so sad before. How silly I had been to worry about August, to mourn my father’s death. My father was in a better place, and August was alive. There was nothing to fear any longer.
I kicked off my heels and luxuriated in the feel of the cold tile beneath my toes. I was floating, almost like an angel. Stumbling, I found my way to the floor, splaying my limbs and waving my arms as though I were lying in a pile of snow. I flapped my angel wings, not caring when something sharp crunched beneath my shoulder. Red bloomed along my fingers when I traced them over the injury, but I couldn’t feel any pain. I couldn’t feel anything at all.
I staggered to my feet, smoothing the wrinkled silk over my chest, my hips, feeling the suppleness of my own flesh just beneath. Blood stained the fabric wherever my fingers touched; delighted, I began to draw swirls and winding vines in the folds of silk. I decided I loved Daemon wine. And why shouldn’t I? It had given me the sweetest joy I’d ever tasted. A girl wearing a floor-length ruby dress knocked into me, and I nearly lost my balance. Laughing, I danced my way across the room, shutting my eyes against the bright lights of the chandelier. This felt good. Better than good, this was ecstasy. Then there was Casimir, standing before me, his features fixed into an expression of downright horror.
“Farrow?” he said. His eyes darted to the trail of blood that followed each uneven footstep. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Zhara,” I replied, giggling stupidly. “She gave me some wine…Wasn’t that nice of her?”
Casimir reached out to grip my elbow, steadying me as he examined my ruined dress, the blood dripping from my shoulder. “Shit,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
I swayed on the spot as I looked up into his face. Why was he frowning? Everything was wonderful. I couldn’t even remember why I’d sought him out, but I was glad of it. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I squinted harder as the blurred rings at the edges of my vision began to gutter sharply, like the winking out of faerie lights.
“Casimir,” I breathed. The last thing I saw were his eyes—gleaming like shards of topaz—as I tumbled into his arms with his name on my lips.
The morning came too soonand with all the benevolence of a tempest.
It took me all of three agonizing minutes to wish I were dead. Indeed, death would be a welcome mercy against the blinding headache burrowing its way through my skull. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for the abyss to pull me under once more, when, without warning, hot, acidic bile bubbled up from my stomach and forced its way into my throat. I leaned over the side of the bed and vomited into a bucket someone had placed there.
Fucking. Daemon. Wine.
I groaned and rolled back onto the pillows, pain stabbing in my shoulder as I did. I was too sick and tired to wonder where I was or how I’d gotten there.
“How are you feeling?” said a low voice.
I groaned again, hurling a string of expletives at the voice with as much vehemence as I could muster. The voice chuckled. I slung my arm over my eyes. I was going to make everyone pay. Devereaux. Evren. Veronika. Zhara.
“Do you think you can open your eyes?”
I gave a noncommittal grunt. The slick sound of a bucket being moved across the floor had me pulling the covers over my head.
“Fucking hell,” the voice muttered, the hint of a laugh beneath the curse.
No, I amended my earlier promise. After I finished punishing everyone who was at that party, I was going tokillCasimir.
“Go away,” I groaned from beneath the coverlet.
Casimir chuckled. “I have something that might help, if you can just sit up. Come on, it’s not that bad.”
I murmured another string of obscenities in reply. Because it was that bad. I’d experienced hangovers, headaches from one too many beers at the local pub, but this? I no longer needed to imagine what dying felt like. Like three stomach flus and a migraine to boot.
A rush of cold air hit my torso as he lifted the sheet, apparently to increase my torture.
“Don’t touch it,” I whined. My left shoulder was wrapped in white gauze and had begun to sting like someone had doused it in a strong astringent.
Casimir clicked his tongue disapprovingly, checking the bandages with a light touch. “Do you know how long it took me to pull out all that glass?”
A vague memory of something sharp in the region of my shoulder, but I hadn’t remembered this. The pain. It was a small mercy that I had been unconscious while he dealt with my shoulder.
“Leave me alone,” I grunted into the pillow.
I gave a pathetic whimper as the pain in my head doubled. I hadn’t felt any pain at all last night, no doubt thanks to the drugged wine.
“You know,” Casimir began, sinking onto the bed beside me, “I’ve saved your ass once already this month.”
I continued to lie prostrate beneath the covers, praying he would just leave and let me die in peace.
“And I’ve yet to hear anything but insults.”