Torrent of Tears (Scourge Survivor Series Book 3)(65)

“No. I’m fine, thank you.”

“Please, it would be my honor,” he said, raising his hand.

I was about to decline a second time when the curled fingers of the hand being offered caught my attention. Upon closer inspection, I saw the crooked bridge of the man’s nose. It was the priest who sat beside me at the luncheon on my first day here. Zale scowled at me and suddenly, there was nothing I wanted more than a tour around the ballroom dance floor. “On second thought, I’d be delighted.”

With our raised hands linked and his crippled hand at my back, we merged with the flow of the crowd. After the initial adaptations to move as one with a stranger, we relaxed into a rhythm. The rise and fall of the music pulled us along like a gentle wave. For just a moment I let my fear for my boys slip away and took a moment to really breathe.

Reign had insisted on formal dance lessons for Bruin, Julian, Jade and me from the time we hit puberty. ‘You’ll thank me one day,’ he’d said. ‘Treaties and negotiations get hammered out as often on the dance floor as they do in a war room. Politics is nothing but a fucking dance . . . and a headache.’

When the song ended and the clergyman retained possession of my hand, I assumed we were going again. His eyes were whiskey brown and kind. Maybe I could trust him with my questions. “Uh . . . would you happen to know of a priest of the Fae Trinity Temple formerly known as Rowan?”

We began to move for the second time, his brow creased but his smile remained in place. “Perhaps,” he said. His voice was even but his body tensed noticeably beneath my hands. “What would you want of him?”

“Nothing serious, I . . . uh, was just hoping to ask him a few questions.”

We stopped. As the other dancers whirled past us, he squeezed my hand tighter and dropped the hold on my back. I met his gaze and after more than a decade of living with warriors, I read the minute he decided to reach into the fold of his tunic for a weapon.

I clasped my hand around his wrists and twisted. A knife. Nice. “That’s a lot of steel for a priest, don’t you think?”

He struggled against my hold, eyes wide. “You’re stronger than you look, Princess.”

“I’ve heard that. Now, how ‘bout you drop the weapon.”

“Or you could let go of my arm before you snap my wrist, and I’ll slip the knife into your skirt as planned.”

“Planned? What plan? Who—”

“Your followers.” He leaned closer and I caught a good look at his priest’s collar. It was actually a mourning band, the same as the one Bay made for me. “Those of us who think you’re the one. The one who will bring change.”

I searched his gaze and didn’t catch any deception. “Nice words, Padre, but flattery won’t get you under my skirt. I’m not that kind of girl.”

A wry smile crept across his face. “Reaching under a lady’s skirt isn’t an everyday occurrence for me either, but I smuggled this knife in for you—regardless of the danger—and we are beginning to draw attention.” Zale was making his way toward us from one direction, while two senior Strati eyeballed me from another. “Please, Lexi, trust me to do this.”

His familiarity took me aback. “I don’t know you.”

“True,” he said, stepping against me, our hands concealed between our bodies. “But you know my namesake, biblically by what I gather. Help him, Lexi. Help both of them. Bring my godchildren home where they belong.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX


If Bacchus had been in the building, he would have found the progression of the evening a true and accurate tribute to drunken revelry. After the dancing began the feast. A heavy aroma of spices and grilled meat rose up in thick swirls from the six, long tables running the length of the dining hall. Golden rainbows arced from teardrop crystals in the chandeliers as glasses were filled and refilled with rich amber, burgundy and russet brown liquors. The roar of slurred voices and laughter blended and rose to a cacophony of merriment.

Zale sat to my left, soaking in the warmth of the pre-wedding spotlight. Social charmer or manipulative attention-whore? Whatevs. I had his number.

As mesmerizing as it was, I studied the Nobles as the flowing spirits worked their intoxicating magic and loosened lips. The women drank with slightly more reserve, tittering and gossiping, and then running to the loo in packs of swirling gowns.

I sat quietly, drinking what was poured for me, gathering intel, listening for any hint of where prisoners might be taken or held. Apparently, though, the crowd I was seated with was more interested in the restoration of the main square’s bell tower and the ongoing debate of whether the new steps being laid at the Temple should be marble or orichalcum.

I tipped back my glass and the moment it was empty, someone swooped in and refilled it.

I stilled my jumping leg under the table. The presentation of the couples was next and then, once the dancing resumed, I would be free to slip away unnoticed.

“—I know, such a shame for the people of the Fifth sector. I heard. . . .”

My focus shifted to the nearest six-pack of ladies floating toward the hallway. I lifted my napkin and set it on the table. Zale’s fingers tightened around my wrist as I stood. To the other guests at the table, it might’ve looked attentive as he twisted my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles.