Endless Magic (17 page)

The still-setting sun flooded the room with soft, dusk-like light through the stained glass windows that took up one whole wall of the hexagonal room. The golden thrones facing us glittered in the dancing light, looking less judgmental and infinitely more alluring. I had the sudden urge to sit in Lucan's seat but suppressed it, knowing we were going to be late to our own party if I didn't get down to business.

I tore my eyes away from the box where the accused sat to be judged, expecting to feel anger at the very purpose of this room. But instead, I slowly admitted to myself that this room held very fond memories for me. This was the room Kiran had stepped up to protect me in, begging Amory to help me escape. In the room just off this one, he had kissed me, a kiss so fierce, so passionate, that I spent the next several hours on the run with only his kiss to fuel my plight. In this room I realized that my feelings for him were love. True love. Even if that love was immature and misguided, as I'd come to believe it was, it was still love. And I recognized it here.

“Are we really going to practice kissing, Eden?” Kiran inquired sarcastically, bringing my attention back to his expectant turquoise eyes. “Surely, it cannot be that hard to remember!”

“Not like make-out kissing!” I hissed, slapping his bicep playfully. “I need to know what's acceptable in front of all your.... our.... guests. And I want to make sure I react…. appropriately.” I couldn’t say out loud that I didn’t want to recoil from his touch, disgusted and angry in front of everyone important in the kingdom.

Kiran started to protest, but I was determined to walk into this party prepared. The entire time I had known I was Immortal had been a series of events that I was never prepared for and most of the time off the mark.

“I mean, is it Ok to kiss you during the party?” I asked, suddenly wondering if maybe I should refrain from physical affection all together. “Because if it isn't-”

“No, it's perfectly fine,” Kiran assured me. “One might even say it's expected from a couple that is supposed to be so in love as us.”

“That's what I thought,” I agreed and decided to just jump right in. “So, I was thinking something like this might be acceptable and affectionate enough....” I linked my arm with his again, pretending to stand how we would most likely be standing during the party. I leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek, letting my lips linger against his soft skin and hard jawline.

Kiran's magic soared next to me. I felt it take off away from him in a swirling frenzy of surprise. He cleared his throat and looked down at the ground before explaining, “The magic is part of it, right?”

“Oh, of course,” I nodded enthusiastically, remembering how our magic used to seek each other out and connect in a palpable way. “Good thinking.”

I turned my body into him, and he slipped his arm around my waist naturally. I stepped forward on my tiptoes, kissing his ear lobe and neck gently, shyly. He jerked a little bit, from the tickling sensation of my breath hot against his neck and we laughed, our magics mingling in a casual truce around us.

I reached over and put my hand on his waist, turning my body into him completely. I dipped my face into his neck, a little mortified from our practice, but more dreading the hours of this ahead of us and groaned softly. His skin, hot against my face, felt comforting and familiar and for the first time since the first night we got engaged I inhaled his herbal, masculine scent. Electricity burst to life underneath my skin, racing through my blood in an angry protest of longing. His hand began to shake against my back, holding it back from pressing me against him and I realized for the first time I had taken us into dangerous territory.

Too familiar with each other, casual touches could easily become so much more out of the habit we built when there was actual love between us. I lifted my head, forcing my cheek from the curve of where his neck met his shoulder and breathed evenly, trying to protect my pride and my insistence to practice.

“So, stuff like that is all Ok?” I asked casually.

“Yep,” he answered and the tremor in his voice was unmistakable. “Yes, all of that is perfectly acceptable.”

I stepped away from him and the canyon between us felt like a million miles. I smiled bravely at him and he returned mine with a courageous one of his own. He withdrew his hand from my waist and walked to the brass door leading out into the hallway and held it open for me.

We walked in silence the rest of the way, not bothering to link arms until we were out the castle doors and a few steps from the main square of the Citadel. I marveled at the plaza that on regular days was just an open square with a cobblestone ground.

Tonight, it was an elegant venue, trendy and modern. The rough, ancient ground was covered with a sharp bamboo overlay that expanded across the length of the piazza with a busy dance floor in the middle. A sheer white tent, with open sides, positioned just over the dance floor glimmered from a brushed silver chandelier hung from the raised center.

A jazz band played soft, upbeat music on a stage set off the dance floor where several couples danced under the twilight sky. Cocktail tables encircled the inner boarders of the plaza, with delectable appetizer trays interspersed among them. The tables were covered with long, sheer, silver tablecloths and on each was an antique pewter pitcher turned into a vase with cascades of white lilies that dripped down the sides in a lavish arrangement. Hundreds of floating silver and white lanterns hung overhead, suspended magically at varying heights. More silver lanterns scattered the boarder of the plaza intending to light up the sky when the sun set on the long summer day.

I gasped at the unexpected beauty of the party and felt Kiran lean in closer, pressing his smiling lips against my hair in a perfect production of a future groom utterly content with the evening ahead.

On our arrival the gathered Immortals, intending to celebrate our upcoming nuptials, turned to us and began clapping out of joyful anticipation. I smiled at them, playing the part of the blushing bride. Kiran pulled me with him into the square and when the applause continued with more intensity, he looked at me, his turquoise eyes blazing.

“We didn't practice this,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me against his chest.

I wanted to demand an explanation before he tried anything that hadn't been previously discussed between us, but I couldn't vocalize my concerns against the hypnotic effect of his eyes. He smiled at me, a gentle smile that asked for my trust, before his hand slid up my bare back and he dipped me in his arms while simultaneously pressing his lips against mine in a fevered kiss meant for couples on the brink of eternal bliss.

The crowd broke out into exhaustive clapping, but I forgot about them. My mind fought against the heady, loss of senses his hand splayed across my bare skin induced. His lips moved against mine in an invitation for me to open my mouth completely and lose myself in the moment. I hesitated for a second, trying to find my equilibrium. My magic had already met his somewhere beyond my body and it was reacquainting itself with Kiran's electricity against my will.

Kiran drew me up closer to him and I knew it was a plea to cooperate in front of such a large crowd, so with an inexcusable sigh that sounded more like a gentle moan, I opened my mouth to his. In front of his father and the rest of the kingdom, Kiran publicly claimed me as his bride-to-be with an innocent kiss that when it was finished left me feeling guilty and compromised. But more so, I felt moved, as if I just lived through a religious experience not meant for anything less than angels. Never mind that my hands started to tremble and my breathing was drastically uneven.

When it was finished, when we stood together in front of the crowd, with my cheeks flamed red and the proud smirk across Kiran's face, I realized, pretending or not, I could never let that happen again.

In that moment I had forgotten my grandfather, and the war, and everything I was working for. In Kiran's arms, with his body pressed against mine, I had been pushed into another universe, where only we existed, where only a love that died months ago ruled our lives and our hearts.

I slipped my hand into Kiran's and pressed my body against his as though my actions were born of the natural inclination to never leave his side. He pulled me forward to greet his father, but not before he turned to give me an encouraging smile. His eyes flashed with terror and uncertainty, the acute knowledge that everything I feared and felt resonated inside him too.

I swallowed difficultly and then searched for courage. I just had to get through tonight. I just had to keep up the pretense of this for a little while longer.

I could figure the rest out tomorrow.

“You gave us quite the scare with your illness, Pprince,” the African Regent, a tall, thick man with pure midnight skin and forest green eyes, laughed. He looked over Kiran with a mixture of mistrust and fatherly concern.

“Yes, I'm told it was rather terrible. I hardly remember anything, to be honest,” Kiran smiled encouragingly at his loyal subject. The noble and dignitary were discussing the drastic decline in Kiran’s health after he and I broke up. I still didn't understand why he nearly died after I removed my magic from him, but nevertheless, I had broken into the London palace last April to finish the job the disease began and instead found myself saving him. “Except of course, Eden. I remember Eden.” Kiran turned his attention and the full force of his intense gaze on me. I let him pull me closer, our magics intertwining like clasped hands around us. “She was my savior,” he finished softly.

I cleared my throat, desperately trying not to let Kiran sweep me away with his pretend sweetness. I felt foolish and naive from the effect his attention had on me tonight. We had circled the crowd for hours, his hands never leaving me, his magic never untangling from mine and his eyes always searching mine out to make sure I felt the force of his love. A love that didn't exist.

I grew angry just thinking about my immature feelings. Why couldn't I remember his sins against me, or my meaningful, albeit difficult, long-distance relationship with Jericho? Even Kiran's magic was irritating tonight. As happy as my own seemed to be locked away in the folds of his electricity, his magic felt different from what I remembered. It was lighter more full of life, and frustratingly more alluring than it ever had been before.

“I think your father would like to speak to you,” I lied. Suddenly, I needed a break. I needed to separate myself from him for just a little while and breathe.

“Are you sure?” he asked, catching my deception.

“Yes, absolutely. He probably just wants to speak to you for a few minutes,” I explained. I hoped he would take the hint. I tried pleading silently with my eyes and when he still seemed reluctant to leave, I leaned forward kissing him on the cheek. “I'll explain later,” I whispered in a slightly panicked voice.

“If you'll excuse me, then,” he nodded to the African Regent and then walked off, leaving us alone.

I shifted awkwardly on my feet, realizing my timing might not have been the best as I stood alone with the imposing Immortal politician, but I smiled anyway.

“So,” Solomon Camera started, his voice booming and demanding, “You are who they say you are.” He stated a fact, not a question. I understood why Lucan appointed this large, muscular man in charge of all of Africa. Besides his physically dominating presence, he commanded the attention of those around him with a quiet strength that demanded obedience, yet he radiated a charisma that defied his overpowering virility. I also believed that Lucan would only promote those that he believed were truly loyal to him, so this man must be one of his most loyal subjects.

Although there was Amory....

The phrase, “Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer,” came to mind. Still, I didn't know Solomon Camera. I never heard Avalon or Jericho or anybody mention him. I knew the Resistance kept spies all over the kingdom in all of kinds of royal positions, but there was no possible way for me to know if he was Resistance without seeing his tattoo. Besides, if he was Resistance, he would know who I was with certainty.

“Who do they say I am?” I asked, side-stepping his direct insinuation.

“They say you are Delia's daughter, is this true?” Solomon narrowed his forest green eyes at me.

I looked down at the bracelet Kiran gave me, the one that was supposed to interfere with my magic but didn't. I twirled it around my wrist, running my fingers across the dozens of stones, wondering how much trouble I was about to get myself into.

“That is true,” I conceded. “I am her daughter.”

Solomon stared at me for a moment, his face clouding with emotion that I couldn't read. His eyes narrowed into something like anger, but his lips twisted into what I considered a smile of triumph. He considered me for a moment, a long moment in which I fidgeted under his searching stare. And then he lifted his gaze across the plaza and signaled someone with the slightest nod of the head.

I cleared my throat and crossed my arms. This was it. I said something I wasn't supposed to and at any minute Lucan was going to have a prisoner brought to center stage to be murdered. I mentally calculated the exits from the plaza, ready to grab whoever they decided to sacrifice and attempt to run for it.

A middle-aged lady in perfect shape approached us. She was black like Solomon, with silky ebony skin and muscular arms, defined to perfection and resting casually against her white ivory cocktail dress. She carried a champagne glass in one hand, and hooked her other through Solomon's bent elbow.

“Eden, may I introduce you to my wife, Zaphira.” Solomon gestured between us. Zaphira stretched out a muscular but elegant hand and shook mine with warm affection. Solomon continued, “Eden is Delia's daughter.”

I flinched, ready for more attention to be called to me, but Zaphira only commented nonchalantly, “If you are Delia's daughter, then how on earth are you engaged to a prince?”

“I, um....” I wasn't sure how to answer her. I couldn't tell her I wasn't really engaged to Kiran. At the same time I couldn't betray my mother and lie about being in love with Kiran. I glanced around, wishing I hadn't sent Kiran away and then decided to tell the truth, well half the truth, “Kiran and I met at Kingsley, before I knew that he was a prince.”