🎶 click to play scene track

ne of the most coveted events of the year, the Day of Enlightenment observed the first contact between mortal and solarite and was thus marked by a yearly parade and festivals in the streets.

Parties detonated in the streets in an effervescent fizz of laughter and drinking. The nectar was free-flowing, sparkling in the streets like spilt diamonds. Decanters fountained with it as the ringing chime of clinked glasses echoed from rooftop to rooftop. The streets were littered with blood droplets of rose petals. There were many fireworks and many ribbons and macarons stuffed with ripe cherries. Stores embellished their doorways with sweet musk roses and brugmansia.

Laila watched the festivities unfold from the safety of her bedroom window as Aurora picked up the plump reeded glass bottle of her perfume, spraying a few puffs to her throat. Then she stained her lips with rouge lacquer made from crushed rose petals, adding a touch of gold paint to the bow of her upper lip and canthi.

“I thought we’d agreed after Dominus: no more occassi,” Lyra said. She reclined on her cream tufted leather chaise lounge with one foot atop the knee of her other leg, bouncing her ankle rambunctiously.

“It’s not that I meant for it to happen again, Lyra.” Laila huffed as Aurora spritzed her face with grape water for a dewy finish to her skin’s natural glimmer. “It was just… he was there and he was saying all the right things and… I’ve been having a really difficult time recently with Dominus and my mother, so I could really do without your judgement.”

She turned to Lyra and jutted out her bottom lip in a petulant pout, hoping she looked pathetic enough to take pity upon.

Lyra sighed. “I’m not judging. Much. I’m just concerned about you. After what happened with Dominus, I’m sure you can understand why I hesitate to watch you crawl into bed with yet another monster.”

“Well, you needn’t be,” Laila replied flippantly in the mirror as Aurora fixed a crown of pastel pink blossoms with tinges of yellow on her head. Her dress was of a similar hue with bouquets of her nominal flower sewn into the skirt. “What happened with Darius was... a singular event. It shan’t occur again.”

“Oh, of course, Laila. That is until he starts giving you those eyes and saying the right things and then oh! Suddenly you’ve misplaced your underwear…”

“Lyra!”

Her friend merely intensified her knowing stare. Aurora struggled to suppress her giggling.

Laila scoffed as she slipped on her mask. “I am perfectly capable of containing myself around Darius Calantis. I am not some ditzy little daisy that I would allow myself to wilt before any pair of pretty eyes and silver-tongue.”

“Well, I should hope so!” Lyra exclaimed in response. “Need I remind you that he almost had you killed and he has every reason to catch you with your guard down. I suggest you remain vigilant.”

Laila nodded in response, though her lack of confidence unsettled. Tonight would be the first time she may be thrust before the occasso’s presence again after spending every given moment since that night trying to avoid him. She could only pray her resolve would keep.

“Well, I’m ready.” She rose up from the vanity to smooth the skirt of her dress.

Lyra let out a low whistle in approval. “Look at you.”

Laila crossed one ankle over the other, pivoting all the way round to give Lyra a full view. “All prepared for the parade float. Let’s hope the rest of the night goes off without error.”

She slipped her hand through the arm of her guard and found herself marvelling briefly at the firmness of wiry muscle. Laila knew she would be more than safe under the thrall of Lyra’s protection.

“Lead the way,” Lyra said, as the two took towards the door to enter the festivities beyond.

Every year on the Day of Enlightenment, the ten dynasties of The First Who Fell put together a float to represent their namesake. Though it had become somewhat difficult to maintain originality during the centuries of the practice, many tried all the same.

Laila sat beside her mother on their parade float which she had fashioned into the style of a music box. The box, when wound, sprung open its gilt-edged, pink-coloured lid to reveal a composition of sprite ballerinas all dancing an esteemed adagio from one of her favourite ballets in the Aureate Theatre, La Rose D’or, while fragrant jets of rosewater surged from ornate spouts. She kept waving beside her mother on their twin thrones carved from rosewood lacquered in gilt to match the edging of the music box.

Eventually, the parade drew to a close and she was mercifully let down from the float to join the ensuing celebration. Enlightenment wasn’t her favourite holiday, that honour would always go to Midsummer, but it was among them and it was always this part she liked best: when she could walk among the streets of her people as they peddled solar-inspired food and watch fireworks ascend into the air with a spidery fizzle.

Citizens set up stalls of fried and celestial-shaped goods which enticingly coaxed in a mélange of flavour and colour to all who passed them. Laila helped herself to some beignets at one stall while the firework shows proceeded in an elaborate spectacle around her.

Her attention was as fleeting and swift as the beat of a hummingbird’s wings and so she did not linger long before her mind began to dull. She searched for something sharper to renew it. She soon found it when she managed to locate the more ‘underground’ festivities. A lambent jazz club fogged with body heat and desire where the gradual theft of one’s sight led to reliance on more primal senses: the throbbing bassline of the music’s rhythm, the aftertaste of sweat and perfume or the wandering hands of a dance partner.

Laila slipped into the den of writhing bodies with ease, her hips swaying languidly to the composition of saxophone and bass. The music stirred within her something sensual which seeped deep into the pit of her core and began to spread as she moved; a small, self-satisfied smile curving on her lips as she did so.

🎶 click to play scene track

Darius entered the fray not long after, moving like a beetle through a field of dandelions. Amira had granted him leave from the tower for the evening and he had spent it on the hunt, his sharpened senses slicing a wedge between the crowd to seek Laila out. He caught her in glimpses. First by the sprinkling of rose petals, then the flash of gold tresses beneath the dimmed lighting—a flicker of sunlight in this dusky setting.

He caught himself mesmerised by the rhythmic gyrations of her hips as she took on a sprite for a partner and wrapped his arms around her waist. Darius’ hips subconsciously mimicked her own movements as he considered the collision of their bodies under an entirely different context. He shook off the sensation in dismissal, her earlier rejection of him still acute enough to sting.

Though days had passed since, she still haunted his thoughts. He found himself dissecting every interaction they shared with surgical precision: every touch, every shared kiss, every time he had made her moan and tremble and she had done the same in turn.

Had it all been lust then? Just a heightened stress response to the extreme conditions they found themselves in? He couldn’t say and it’s the wondering that plagued him, disrupting his thoughts when his mind should be focused on other matters.

He had to wonder if that wasn’t the end goal—to keep him so entranced by her that he forgot to keep his guard up. He could almost laugh at how ridiculously easy it had been. Of course, she ultimately didn't care about him. For this had never truly been about wanting him rather than keeping him compliant so he would be a willing pet to the machinations of Amira.

But then he thought about when she cradled his face at the tarot tournament, her hands on his shoulders in the Eyrie, and his conviction wavered.

He decided he couldn’t go on like this. He had to confront her. He had to know.

Darius watched on hungrily as Laila traded tiny shots of crème liqueur with the sprite, drizzling it sparingly on her throat before he cleaned it with a light suck. Darius wasn’t sure if it was the deep throbbing of the bass or seeing the sprite’s lips at Laila’s throat that sent blood shooting to his temple but he found he could watch this no longer.

Laila giggled in delight as the sprite traced his tongue over her neck but found her mirth cut short when the vestige of fangs biting into her neck wormed its way into her sensual memory.

She pulled back suddenly and excused herself with a smile to drown out the feel of his lips against her throat with something stronger. She took a fever pill someone gave her and let it dissolve on her tongue.

While their immortal bodies would never know true sickness, many solarites were partial to the symptoms predicting the beginning onset of a fever: the high temperature, numbing tingles and the near alcoholic buzz of drowsiness. For Laila, it was the only thing that kept her calm after emotional events and she could already feel the swelling knot of anxiety deflate as soon as she consumed it.

As the fever thrummed through her bloodstream she made a valiant return to the dancefloor, feeling a new pair of hands grip her waist. She began to prepare herself with a simper and an offer of a dance when the person spoke in her ear:

“You look like you’re having a good time.”

The voice was like a dousing of ice water down her back before an unbearable heat encroached to take its place. She tried to pivot round to face him but he only held her tighter to his chest. She knew the shape of him when she felt it. His height and build alone displaced him as an elephant among ants.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, fully aware he had not let go of her waist.

Darius smirked at her annoyance, his smooth cheek brushing against hers as he spoke. “I was rather enjoying the show.”

Laila’s heart skipped in spite of herself. This was too much for her. With his voice low in her ear and his hands on her waist, she could all too easily remember how perfectly her body fit into his.

“Well, I am glad you are enjoying the festivities, Prefect. But if you don’t mind—”

“Back to that again, are we?”

“I—” she stammered, realising she had slipped back into the rules of propriety when using his name. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He leaned in closer so that when he next spoke she could feel the hot exhale of his breath on her neck. “Yes, you do.”

Laila shivered, feeling his voice travel right to her toes. She sought to put distance between them, not wanting him to sense how deeply he was affecting her. “How did you even find me here?”

“You’re quite easy to spot even when you mask yourself,” he told her, and she remembered he was a hunter, a predator even. She was not the first he had tracked. “I was hoping that we could talk. In private.”

She pressed her gloss-slicked lips together before answering. “About what?”

“You know what.”

She did, but she refused to indulge him in this. She removed his hands from her waist and slipped past him to allow the crowd to swallow her.

“What are you so afraid of, Laila?”

Familiar words. She shouldn’t have let that stop her, but the low, taunting quality of his voice dug its way inside her nerves. She pivoted back on her heel.

“You want to talk?” she asked, taking a few small steps towards him to bridge the space between them again. “Fine. Let’s talk.”

She grabbed him by the arm and led him upstairs to the corridor of rooms that had been set up for more private conclaves. She picked the first vacant one she found and walked inside, not even waiting to see if he was following her.

Darius stepped in after her, grateful for the seclusion the room offered, closing and locking behind him.

“What do you want?” she snapped at him, tearing off her mask and dashing it to the floor.

“I had to see you,” he said, slipping off his own mask as he stepped closer to frame the side of her face. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night.”

She broke away from his touch with a smirk. “Hoping I’ll go to bed with you again? I would’ve thought one night was enough.”

“And why on earth would you think that?”

“Let’s not pretend this was something profound. We wanted each other and we’ve had each other. Now we ought to be content to go our separate ways.”

She sidestepped him towards the door only to be stopped when he grabbed her arm.

He pivoted her towards him, his eyes boring into hers, and she was never quite prepared for the effect his stare had on her. He looked at her as though in a sea of smeared greys she was the one thing vibrant with colour.

“Is that really what you think this is for me?”

Laila swallowed thickly to moisten her parched throat. “We can’t do this again, Darius. It’s not right. You’re Dominus’ brother. You’re my mother’s captive. You’re—”

“You’re exhausting every possible answer other than the one that truly matters,” he said, taking a step closer. “That you don’t want me.”

Her breath hitched as she looked away from him. “I don’t.”

“Really?” Darius hooked his finger beneath her chin and tilted her up to face him. “Try looking at me when you say that next time.”

She felt him trace the edge of her chin as she looked at him, her eyes flitting briefly to his lips as they drew near. She swerved away from him. “Stop,” she sighed, shaking her head softly. “I understand what you’re going through, Darius. I know you’re alone here and you’re lonely and sometimes I’m lonely too. It makes sense you’d want to cling to someone for company but—”

His expression shifted into one of anger. “That’s not what this is.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean your little condescending speech about my loneliness. That’s not what this is to me. I don’t want someone, I want you. And I know I shouldn’t. And I know it comes with a lot of risks for us both but still I want you… and deep down I think you want me too.”

“Darius—”

“I’ve wanted you ever since I met you, Laila. And it didn’t matter to me that you were with my brother. Or that my father wanted you dead. Or that our countries were at the brink of war with one another. All that mattered to me was the chance, however miniscule it was, I could ever get you to return what it is that I feel. And now I know there is a chance… I can’t simply give that up.”

Her throat thickened as tears clouded her vision. “You can’t do this to me, Darius. You can’t just say all of these things and expect me to believe—”

“Look at me,” he said, shushing her as he placed his thumbs against her cheeks to wipe the tears as they fell. “It’s okay.”

Somehow that only made her cry harder, the attempt in itself. That of all the people in the world she could turn to she had found herself within the arms of a monster and never felt more cherished.

“Laila, look at me,” Darius said again and he took her hand to rest it against his face. “Illumination doesn’t lie, remember? If you earnestly believe I don’t mean my words, that I’m just out to deceive you or captivate you into bed again. At least this way, you’ll know the truth.”

She traced her thumb over the fine hair on his cheek as she met his gaze and found it calm, direct. He had clearly not yet forgotten the strength behind illumination, he knew that it would hurt, but he was willing to let her do it to him anyway.

There was something about that which sparked curiosity in her to snuff away the last lingering doubt this was just another machination from him. So she took his other cheek in her hand, stroking her thumbs down both cheeks, and brought his face down to kiss her.

Darius released a sharp breath into her mouth before he returned the kiss, sliding his arms around her waist to bring her closer. So close that they were only aware of the combination of their heartbeats. He walked her back against the wall to press her against it, his hips digging into hers to anchor her there as their mouths continued to collide with breathless intensity.

He kissed her like he’d been desperate for it, for her, not realising how much until their lips were joined together again.

Laila’s eyes closed as their hips pressed into each other, a pleasurable throb growing between her legs. At once she wished they were both shed of clothes and limbs entangled so he could lift her against the wall and have her then and there.

Darius slid his hand down her spine to curve beneath her thigh, hooking her leg around his waist as his lips parted reluctantly from her to kiss her cheek, her jaw, working his way along the slope of her throat before he continued downwards.

“Darius—” Laila sighed as he lowered to his knees before her. And how did he know this was exactly where she wanted him?

He shushed her as he lifted the skirts of her dress. “Just relax.”

She watched his head disappear beneath her skirts as he slid her bloomers down and hooked her leg around his shoulder. She clasped at the window ledge for purchase, feeling his warm exhale against her inner thigh. He started off by kissing a trail up the delicate inner skin before he moved his mouth towards the source of all light and all life trapped between her thighs.

Laila cried out as Darius sucked her clit into his mouth, her legs buckling as he moved his lips in slow, sensuous glides—almost in the same way he’d kissed her. She arched her hips towards his face as she urged him to go softer, slower. His moan vibrated against her skin as he obeyed.

Darius dipped his tongue inside her, savouring the little noises of pleasure she made as her taut muscles flexed around him. She tasted divine and it was made all the sweeter knowing how desperately she writhed as her thighs tightened. What a rare sort of bliss this is. Dominus was insane to give it up.

He kept going until her legs were shuddering and little shockwaves from her power had started to circulate through his body, causing his nerves to twinge in a manner that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

Laila’s neck fell back in ecstasy as she felt the build of her orgasm coiling tight in her core and she just let herself go—all the doubts, all the fears, all the insecurities. She just let herself go with him.

The Magisterium was located within the Summer Château, about a moat-bridge away from the palace, nestled within a ring of lithe blondewood trunks. It served as the main quarters for the magisters and active sessions of Parliament when they weren’t being called to attend court at the whim of Amira.

The palace facade filtered the light from the fireworks like a prism, casting off a hazy kaleidoscope of soft-toned hues in teal and pink and white.

Laila entered through the marble lobby, signing her name into the visitors’ guest-book. She straightened her curls before she entered the main chamber, almost self-conscious that her indiscretions had left her permanently marked.

The room was full when she arrived, her mother sitting on the far end of the table in her gilt-legged chair, a white lion cub snoozing twitchily in her lap.

“You’re late,” Amira said, gesturing towards the chair that was nearest to her for Laila to sit.

“I do apologise, Maman,” Laila spluttered as she drew out the seat and pushed herself in, smoothing out her lap. Her cheeks flushed once more as her mind flickered to Darius’ head pressed between her thighs. “I happened to get caught up with something.”

She gave a welcoming smile towards the other Magisters seated around her, each of them mortals chosen from the five mortal realms to represent their nation’s interests.

Beside her was Magister Yen Cho, who was wearing her scholarly robes in heavy painted silk. Suspended from her neck was a large astronomical watch of overlapping dials, one for the sun and moon, with finely illustrated symbols for the monthly constellations in gold leaf. The hourly dial was equally gilded and pigmented with midnight hues of blue to the pink-orange of dawn. Laila recalled a much larger replica in the Celestial Court; a floating orb encased in gilt-brass framework that mechanically rotated in accordance with the current position of the sky.

“What seems to be the matter?” Laila asked.

“We’ve received word that Domina Domitia has been doing her part to fan the flames of insurrection against Lanius,” Amira said, a small smile playing on her lips. “With the tide already turning in our favour, I do believe this is the time to make our final moves.”

“Lanius Rex still appears to be sitting comfortably in his Citadel waiting for an attack,” said Madhali Azar, Magister of Defence. “You say the word, Your Luminosity, and I’ll send one of my spies to snuff him out like a light.”

“Shouldn’t we account for Lanius’ deathless nature?” Laila asked.

“Yes, Prefect Calantis has made us very well aware of that particular quirk,” Magister Cho replied, “which is why I believe we are better off sending in a group of soldiers to detain him and have him brought back to Soleterea for imprisonment.”

“It seems a reasonable enough suggestion,” Amira said, scratching beneath the chin of her cub. “Though there is the question of what we are to do with the rest of the royal family.”

“Either imprison them alongside him or have them disposed of,” Madhali said, “I don’t suppose I need to make my opinion known on which I’d prefer, Your Luminosity.”

“Your preference has been duly noted, Magister Azar.”

“What is to become of the throne should this mission succeed?” asked Lady Commander Cassia of the Lightshields.

“Darius Calantis wishes to install himself as the new rex once his father and brother have been disposed of,” Amira explained, sipping her wine, “I have therefore agreed to allow him to take up the throne once his country has been subdued.”

“Are we to trust this occassi traitor then?” Cassia asked in uncertainty, “after all if he is to double-cross one party, who is to say he will not do it to another?”

“I’d not consider him to be an immediate threat,” Amira dismissed, “it would be exceptionally foolish for him to strike back at us after helping to significantly reduce his own numbers. In the near future he will be one to watch, but I will have contingencies in place by then to make sure our little beast remains tight on leash.”

“Very well.”

“What ought to be our next moves then, madame?” Madhali inquired.

“I want a team assembled to extract Lanius Rex from the Citadel. Remove anyone who happens to get in the way of that.”

Cassia bowed her head. “As you wish, madame.”