Page 89 of This Dark Descent
There was a fervency to Ari’s words that unsettled Mikira. She’d always had an intensity about her, but it’d grown in the passing weeks as she leaned deeper into her magic.
Ari tilted her head. “Where is this coming from?”
“Nowhere,” Mikira said quickly, already regretting her decision to bring it up. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
Ari hooked their arms back together. “He doesn’t scare me, Kira. He makes me feel safe. You understand that, don’t you?”
She did, down to her bones, but there was a part of her that was beginning to question what she had to give up for that safety. What Ari had to give up.
Two women swept up to them with proffered pens, putting an end to the conversation. Ari squeezed her arm and slipped into the crowd to find the boys. This time, Mikira accepted the pens with a smile, signing her name in their notebooks. It was easier than the first time, her amiability no longer forced.
A nearby group spotted the commotion and swarmed her, jokingly chanting, “Rusel! Rusel! Rusel!”
Like that moment at the end of the third race, she felt their adoration running through her like a current. She had a sort of influence here—just like her father once had. Their name had carried weight back then, and with it came lucrative offers, easily given favors, and a steady stream of customers seeking Rusel enchants. Now it did again.
“You’re getting way too used to that,” a voice griped beside her, and Reid pulled her free of the growing crowd.
Mikira didn’t know how to explain the effect their adulation had on her. The way it made her feel ten times her size, like she could take on anything—even Rezek. So she only rolled her eyes and followed him to the small group Damien and Ari occupied, which parted to make room for them.
Too late, Mikira realized their company—Prince Darius Zuerlin and, beside him, Rezek. He wore a heavily embroidered ice-blue vest flecked with gemstones, his white jacket equally extravagant, and they leached what little warmth existed in his eyes.
Damien spoke before she could react. “Your Highness, may I present my jockey, Miss Mikira Rusel.”
She curtsied stiffly.
Darius Zuerlin looked almost exactly like his cousin; pale hair, sharp features, and eyes like white ice that remained frozen even when he smiled. But where Rezek seized control of a room with clawed hands, Darius stood above it, secure in the knowledge that it would bow before him.
“I’m quite impressed with the animal you delivered, Miss Rusel,”the prince said. “Almost as impressed as I was with your race the other night.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.” Her voice was steady, though thinking of Iri hurt. The prince might have lifted Rezek’s unofficial embargo on Rusel enchants, but he was still a Zuerlin. Still responsible for the war that took her brother’s life. If she told him about her father right now, he’d do nothing. In truth, he was just as bad as Rezek.
“I look forward to the final race.” She held his gaze. “When I can show you exactly what I’m capable of.”
The words came so easily. The confidence, the pride. She fueled them with the chants of her family’s name and the adoration in the spectators’ eyes. Weeks ago, she would have stumbled over herself, but tonight, donning this mask felt natural.
Damien and Ari gave her matching glances of approval.
“Indeed.” The prince lifted his wineglass to Mikira. Something hungry smoldered in his pale eyes, and the realization that her words could be taken a very different way settled in her stomach with a twist. His gaze slid along the length of her dress with the carelessness of a man used to getting his way.
Her fingers curled into her palms reflexively, and she saw Ari’s mouth turn down.
“I’d almost forgotten you purchased a Rusel enchant, cousin.” Rezek tilted his head. “How do you find it?”
The prince waved a hand. “I haven’t had the chance to ride it yet, what with Father’s failing health and the Illinir to attend.”
Mikira tensed, sensing a trap. Damien’s gaze sharpened on Rezek.
“How unfortunate. You know, Gren’s horse took ill just the other night, and the vet fears he can’t be saved.” Rezek’s voice rang hollow with false pity. “If his horse doesn’t survive the night, perhaps you’d consider allowing him to ride yours in the next race. To test him out for you?”
Mikira lurched forward. “You can’t!”
The silence that followed her exclamation was thick enough to suffocate. She wished it would swallow her whole.
“Your Highness,” Damien began carefully. “What Miss Rusel means is—”
Darius silenced him with a look. “Do you presume to tell me what I can and cannot do with my property, Miss Rusel?” he asked softly. Too softly. Here was the resemblance to Rezek; the predator lurking beneath.
She recoiled. “I—No, Your Highness. Of course not. I only meant to say that isn’t it against the race rules to change horses?”
