Wicked Bite (Night Rebel #2)(7)

Wait, what was that? I tensed when I heard it again. Ian’s voice, his British accent as smooth as ever. Hearing him was its own form of assault, making me stop so I could take a moment to collect myself. You can do this. Come on!

I resumed my climb, my pace brisk. I was almost at the top of the mount when I stopped again because I heard something even more unlikely than an approaching horde of demons. Great gods above the earth and below it, was that the council laughing?

“. . . then I landed next to him, dropped the warlord at his feet and said, ‘Is this the sod you’re looking for?’” Ian was saying, followed by fresh bursts of laughter.

Somehow, Ian had he gotten the normally dour council to sound like a bunch of merry drunks at a comedy club! I’d underestimated his charm, and I shouldn’t have. Even back when we first met and I was only using Ian as bait to draw out Dagon, he’d charmed me, too.

And now, I had to act as if I cared nothing for him.

I entered the amphitheater, my gaze drawn to Ian as if pulled by an invisible force. The last time I’d seen him, his hair had turned white from his death and his face had been more bones than features. Now, his hair was back to its lustrous, deep auburn shade and his profile showed his flawless alabaster skin, a hint of his high cheekbones, the line of his chiseled jaw, and part of his dark, winglike brow.

As if sensing my stare, he turned toward me. I looked away so I didn’t have to meet his eyes. Still, my brief glimpse branded itself onto my brain.

He’d dressed for the occasion, wearing an ebony suit that draped over his body so perfectly, it had to be handmade. He had a white shirt underneath it, the complicated silk knot at the neck held together with a jewel that winked crimson when he turned. Seeing him so whole, so gorgeous, so alive made my throat burn, my chest tighten, and my eyes sting.

Horrified, I realized I was about to cry. I’d done everything I could to prepare myself, and one look had razed me.

I dug my nails into my palms until I felt blood. The slight pain wasn’t much, but I clung to it. I would not humiliate myself by crying in front of Ian and the entire council! I’d picked my navy skirt suit because it was elegant yet somber; the right balance for court. Now, its dark color concealed the blood I’d drawn, and the perfume I wore to hide the scent of my emotions covered its faint scent.

When Ian drawled, “My runaway bride, here at last,” I dug my nails in harder, then took in a breath to steady myself.

Big mistake. His cognac-and-caramel scent invited me to breathe it in until he filled me, and being so near to him meant his aura brushed mine as if his power were stroking me.

Somebody, kill me now.

To distract myself further, I took in the surroundings I’d ignored before. The seats of the amphitheater surrounded the stage and reflected the moon’s pale, silvery rays back at us as if they were additional lights. Those seats were empty since the only people sitting were in eleven large thrones at the center of the circular stage. Hekima, one of only four women on the council, nodded at me. Her salt-and-pepper hair was in its usual severe bun, but her brown eyes were warm. Out of all the council members, I liked her the most.

I smiled at Hekima before giving a more formal nod to Haldam, the official spokesperson for the council. Then I inclined my head at the remaining nine council members before turning my attention to the other people on the stage.

Mencheres, Ian’s sire, was here. His long black hair hung down over his shoulders like silk scarves, and his obsidian gaze was accusing when it met mine. Don’t blame me, blame Bones for this! I wanted to retort. I’d told Bones to protect Ian and ensure that he kept a low profile. Simple instructions, but with this lawsuit, Ian had practically painted a target on his back before firing himself from a canon during a demon fireworks display.

At least Mencheres loved Ian. That meant I could count on him. Ian would just kill his way out of here if the council called for his death, but I had friends here that I didn’t want to see harmed. Mencheres’s formidable powers plus my own abilities meant I could get Ian away without any bloodshed.

I looked away from Mencheres to Xun Guan, my longtime friend and former lover. Her expression became hooded as she glanced from me to Ian. I responded with a slight shake of my head. No, that shake told her. I’m not changing my stance about denying my marriage.

Xuan Guan tilted her chin. Message received, that slight gesture said. Then she turned away, showing only her lovely profile and her jet-black, high-swept hair.

I moved on to Thonos, the council’s official executioner. His unruly black hair was pulled back in a knot, so Thonos must not have gotten the news that man-buns were out. I nodded at him, then flicked my gaze to Julius, Priscilla, Gan, and Vachir. My sense of foreboding returned. The council had been laughing, but things could turn deadly fast. They’d certainly prepared for it, having six of their strongest Law Guardians here.

“Honorable judges,” I said, greeting the council. “I present myself as requested.”

Their mirth disappeared. “Veritas,” Haldam said, stroking the long white beard that matched the snowy hair trailing down his back. “You have been apprised of the charges against us. Before we proceed, we need to first establish if this man”—he nodded at Ian, as if I needed reminding who he meant—“is truly your husband?”

I chose my words carefully. “No, though he has reason to believe that he is—”