To Bewitch a Devil

173 Which do you fancy

“But can you at least tell me if Neera is safe?”

“Yes, she is”, Azriel said.

Penelope put a relieved hand on her chest. “Thank you… and… you? How are you doing?”

Azriel smiled. “I almost died out there.”

Penelope gripped his arm in alarm. “What happened? Did whatever is out there get to you?”

“Even worse.”

“Oh no. What happened?”

His eyes searched her worry-filled ones.

“I was parched, very parched.”

.....

“I thought you and your men were provided with food and water.”

“Not that kind of water, Pen,” he said softly, his gaze melting.

The worry in her eyes was replaced with confusion, then realization, and then he could see the exact moment it was replaced with indignation. Before she could come up with any reply, as her lips parted, Azriel’s lips met hers.

There is a way promises fly out of the head, as if they weren’t there in the first place, as if it hadn’t been hammered in remembrance and certainty hadn’t pinned it with an assurance of no breakage. But as Azriel kissed her, Penelope had no idea when the promises she made to herself__ I will never get involved with any demon, I will keep to my studious duties of serving them, I want to live my life to serve the King and nothing more- all that and more, flew from her head, taking flight fast and far, and she welcomed the sensation overwhelming her all at once; passion, electricity, breath-taking.

Penelope didn’t know much time passed as they kissed, but she didn’t want it to stop. Azriel, to her utter disappointment, pulled away. He smiled down at her; her flushed face, parted lips swollen, fallen hair all over the place, and he cupped her cheek.

“That was refreshing”, Azriel said, before dipping his head for another.

….

Once again, the gates were thrown open for a celebration, but this time, demons from far and wide came in bejeweled carriages, dropping fluffed-up congratulatory messages with gifts to go with it as they entered the hall, a cocktail of scents from the heavy perfumes, wine and food pouring in excess, and bodies entangled in dances on the floor as the musicians harped their guitars and blew their trumpets in a roistering frenzy.

One thing Neera came to know; Selesee people loved to party to the fullest. She didn’t want to come to the party, but Zavian had encouraged it, and Jasmine had practically forced her, erupting squeals like a child in between her excited chatters as maids polished her already shiny physical features for the grand event. Neera, too was bathed in perfumes, oils, and herbs, and the sweet smell stuck to her skin all day.

Jasmine had insisted she let her hair fall, and wear a matching gown as her hair color. So they had gone with a silver dress with white flowers at the hems, and Jasmine’s sangria tresses were knotted up in a high fashion, two long ringlets framing her delicate oval face. Her gown, an ivory gown with real silvers studded in the bodice, completed the ethereal look.

Neera had done a good job of avoiding Jasmine’s family, often eating in her room, and Zavian had cut his time away out of courtesy to his wife’s family, though Neera knew he only bothered out of respect for Jasmine, and he spent days with her, and nights with Jasmine, to which Neera would plunge herself with a curiosity born out of anger at what he did in his room with her. Jasmine was very beautiful, and she knew even Zavian cannot be immune to the feminine charms of his wife.

Neera stood at the back of the crowd, pasting herself like a wallflower, trying to fade away into invisibility, but it was unavoidable. People stared, men ogled, and her name was mixed with Lilah’s, something she had gotten used to. So she stood by the large windows, where the darkness of the night will at least give her some of its covers.

Jasmine appeared out of nowhere and thrust a crystal goblet of wine at her.

“Have some”, she said.

Neera shook her head. “I’d rather not, thank you.”

“Did you have a single drink?”

“No, your Majesty, but I…”

“Say no more.” Jasmine held out the goblet again. “A Selesee royal is offering you a cup of wine, it is an insult not to accept it. Remember the stories I told you?”

Neera remembered, so she reached for the goblet, tilted her head back, and drank it. Jasmine put her hand to the bottom of the glass and pushed so that everything emptied down Neera’s throat.

“Much better,” Jasmine patted her back as Neera coughed. “What are you doing all alone in the corner by yourself?”

Neera wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I don’t feel comfortable with this crowd. I am not used to it.”

“Oh, I understand,” Jasmine flashed her a smile. She was happy and spread it like a bee to flowers. “The wine will help you loosen up. So now,” Jasmine leans in conspiratorially to Neera. “Which of these demons catches your fancy for a dance? Or if you were to fancy one for yourself, which will you pick?”

Neera backed away in surprise. “Your Majesty, I can’t…”

“Of course, you can!” Jasmine said. “Look, I am restricted because I am Queen, but you can still get on in there and dance for me and you both. So now,” she took Neera’s hand and tucked it in the crook of her arm, and leaned against Neera’s head. “I know Prince Axel isn’t here, but we have an array. Call it a buffet of handsome demons. Just take your prongs and pick.”

Neera pulled out her hand from the Queen’s arm. Jasmine’s face clouded with surprise.

“I would really love to go and retire to bed,” Neera said.

“But I want you here”, Jasmine’s once cherry mood took a plunge, and a forlorn expression settled on her face. “I am sorry, Neera, but I wanted you to have some fun and dance.”