Lady Marguerite led Emilia and Alistair down a narrow hallway, her heels clicking softly against the polished floors as she guided them to a theater room set apart from the main dining area. The space they entered opened into a moderately large room, elegantly designed with an intimate atmosphere. Velvet curtains lined the walls, their rich burgundy fabric absorbing the light to create a warm and comfortable ambiance.
Ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their crystal accents shimmering under the dimmed lighting, casting a soft glow over the seating area below. The room had two levels, with a sweeping staircase that curved up to the second floor. The top level held a single long sofa upholstered in deep blue velvet, designed for privacy and seclusion, a setting clearly meant for couples.
The polished wood railing offered an unobstructed view of the stage below, making this spot the most exclusive in the entire room.
Lady Marguerite gestured for them to take their seats on the sofa and then stepped back with a gracious nod. Lady Seraphine, standing beside her sister, added with a mischievous smile, "We hope you'll enjoy the show, it's truly a rare experience."
With a polite nod, Lady Marguerite echoed her sister's sentiment. "We'll leave you now to enjoy the performance in private. Please, make yourselves comfortable."
Emilia thanked them with a warm smile, watching as the two women descended to the first floor. They moved gracefully to join the growing crowd below, taking their seats among other guests as the room gradually filled with a quiet hum of anticipation. Emilia glanced around, noting the sofas scattered across the first floor, each soon occupied by an eager onlooker.
Her gaze then shifted to the stage below, where the faint outlines of musical instruments and a few props hinted at an elaborate show to come. As the performance was about to begin, the lights in the room dimmed one by one, casting each corner into darkness and drawing attention to the single, soft glow illuminating the podium on the main floor. Emilia felt the atmosphere shift, becoming almost ethereal, with shadows playing across the velvet walls and drawing all focus to the small, well-lit stage.
She sank into the plush sofa beside Alistair, feeling the cozy confines of the private space surround them. The silence in the room grew, broken only by the faint rustle of clothing as the audience settled in. She stole a glance at Alistair, who seemed at ease, his gaze directed toward the stage below, though there was a subtle warmth in his expression that hadn't been there earlier.
Feeling a bit nervous in the quiet, she leaned slightly toward him and whispered, "I didn't expect this level of exclusivity. Lady Marguerite certainly knows how to make her guests feel… special."
Alistair turned to her, his eyes catching hers in the dim light. A faint smile played at the corners of his lips. "She has a way with arrangements, doesn't she? I suppose she wanted us to enjoy the performance undisturbed. A rare treat."
Emilia felt a bit of color rise to her cheeks at the implication. "It's… a thoughtful gesture." She felt a bit of the tension slip away, a soft laugh escaping her. "Well, in that case, I suppose I should thank Lady Marguerite for the arrangement."
As the last of the lights faded, leaving only the spotlight on the stage, Alistair's gaze lingered on her for a moment before he, too, turned his attention forward. The performance began with a soft melody, the artist stepping into the spotlight with an ethereal grace that captured the room's full attention. Music filled the space, rich and emotive, a tapestry of notes that seemed to transcend words.
As the music washed over the room, Emilia slipped her hand discreetly into her pocket, fingers brushing against the cool metal of the whispering stone ring. Trusting her intuition, she slid it onto her finger, feeling the slight hum of energy pulse as it settled against her skin. Almost instantly, the gentle sound of music layered with faint whispers began to flood her mind, each voice distinct yet intertwined in a symphony of thoughts and conversations from across the room.
The darkness and the soft glow from the stage provided her the perfect cover, and as she leaned back, her eyes drifted closed, allowing herself to fully immerse in the whispers. It took a few seconds to sift through the noise, tuning out irrelevant chatter and honing in on the fragments of conversations that hinted at intrigue or information she might use. She heard snatches of discussions, politicians murmuring about upcoming alliances, noblewomen gossiping about the recent court affairs, hints of subtle rivalries masked by polite laughter.
"Do you think it's true?" one voice murmured, low and conspiratorial, as if afraid to even utter the thought aloud. "That she will appear again this year? The Queen's birthday is almost upon us, after all."
"Yes, that… ghost," another responded with an uneasy chuckle, though tension was clear in their voice. "They say she haunts those who were involved in her death… and that she won't rest until every last one of them has paid the price."
A third voice, deep and authoritative, joined in, sounding almost impatient. "Enough with the ghost stories. Focus. How many are left now?"
"Only three," the first speaker replied, their voice dropping even lower, tinged with unease. "Out of all those involved, only three remain. The others… they met their fates, one way or another."
"They say she died trying to save him," a woman's voice interjected. "There was an attack, right? The ship she boarded with the young prince… someone meant to kill them both."
A pause lingered, thick with an unspoken horror, and Emilia could almost feel the sharp, chilling sting of that distant night on the open sea. She could sense the weight of their words as they spoke, each detail illuminating the tragedy that had haunted Alistair's life.
"Lady Rowena," the voice continued, trembling slightly as if speaking her name aloud could summon her spirit. "With no choice left… She took the Crown Prince and jumped overboard into the ocean. They say she clung to him as long as she could, but…"
The speaker's voice faltered, a note of remorse slipping in. "…only one survived."
Another voice, softer and more sympathetic, broke the silence that followed. "And he's never been the same since. Who would be, losing a mother like that? But… Did you see the way he and the Queen interact? As though there's a distance that can't be bridged."
"Yes, as if…" the first voice began, only to trail off, leaving the thought unfinished.
Emilia understood their meaning all too well. She had seen it herself, the careful, calculated politeness in Alistair's eyes when she looked at the Queen, and the wary distance he maintained with her. Their relationship was veiled in tension, and Emilia now sensed the reason, the Queen's betrayal echoing in the way Alistair kept his guard around her.
The conversation wound down, but the implications lingered heavily in Emilia's mind. She realized, for the first time, the magnitude of Alistair's trauma. His fear of water was more than just a phobia, it was a scar left by the night he had lost his mother to the ocean's depths.
As Emilia's consciousness fully returned, a deep blush crept over her cheeks as she felt Alistair's hand trailing intimately against her skin. The gentle, yet possessive pressure of his thumb on her sensitive clit sent waves of sensation radiating through her, and she gasped softly, instinctively gripping his wrist to slow his bold advances. Her mind whirled, caught between the seductive thrill of his touch and the unexpected revelation that unfolded on the stage below.
Emilia's gaze drifted downward, where, under the dim, pulsing lights, an unusual performance captivated the audience. Men and women moved in provocative, synchronized rhythms, their bodies tantalizingly close, clad in nothing but dark masks that lent them an air of forbidden mystery. The haunting melody of the string instruments set a sultry tone, every note accentuating the performers' movements, their silhouettes artfully highlighted in the soft glow.
She looked around discreetly at the other guests on the first floor, noticing the effect the show had on them. Couples leaned closer, hands roaming under the tablecloths and against the curves of their partners' bodies, the air thickening with sensual tension.
In a low, heated voice, Alistair whispered near her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "It seems we aren't the only ones enjoying the evening in our own… special way." His fingers continued their teasing rhythm, drawing a shudder from Emilia, her body responding involuntarily.
"Al…" she managed, barely more than a whisper, attempting to maintain her composure. "What… what are you doing?"
His hand paused, though he didn't withdraw, his fingers still intimately nestled against her as he met her gaze with a smoldering look. "I thought I'd take this chance to make the evening memorable," he replied, his voice a velvety caress that sent a shiver down her spine. "Seeing you like this, so lost in thought and beautifully vulnerable, it stirs something I can't ignore."
Emilia swallowed, trying to steady herself, feeling her own resolve wavering. "We're… in public," she reminded him, but even as she said the words, her voice softened, betraying her own hesitation.
Alistair leaned closer, brushing his lips lightly over her neck, sending a tantalizing thrill through her. "No one here cares," he murmured, his words a gentle reassurance. "They're all caught up in their own desires. Tonight, it's just you and me."
For a moment, Emilia surrendered, her grip loosening as she allowed herself to be swept away in the passionate ambiance. The murmur of voices, sighs, and moans from the room around her seemed to sink into Emilia's very bones, her senses heightened by the whispering stone in her finger.
Every sound, every small gasp, every sigh of pleasure filled her ears as if amplified, clouding her mind and making it impossible to keep her composure. She felt trapped between restraint and surrender as she listened to the performance below, the dancers moving in intimate, seductive rhythm.
When one of the performers let out a soft, blissful moan, a murmur ran through the crowd, each guest reacting, shifting closer, indulging in their own desires without reservation.
Emilia's cheeks flushed, her skin tingling as she leaned closer to Alistair. Her whisper was breathy, almost pleading, as she looked into his eyes. "Do it… I can't… take this anymore."
A mischievous smile played at the corner of Alistair's lips. He relished her plea, savoring this moment of vulnerability. "As you wish, Em.." He murmured, his voice low and velvety, sending a shiver down her spine. With a fluid motion, he lay her there, the long and plush sofa, settling her with care yet clear intent.
Alistair's fingers slipped beneath her gown, the silk gliding over her skin as he positioned himself between her thighs, concealed from the world by the fabric pooling around them. His hands, warm and firm, found their way to her most sensitive spots. He traced delicate circles over her clit, each movement slow and calculated, building anticipation. When her breathing grew ragged, he lowered his head, his mouth joining the rhythm, lips and tongue skillfully working in unison.
Emilia gasped, her body arching involuntarily as he drew her deeper into pleasure. Unable to speak, she expressed her desire by locking her legs around his head, pulling him closer, urging him to push her further. Her fingers dug into the sofa, her back arching as his tongue explored her, every touch perfectly timed with the music that swelled in intensity around them.
He looked up for a brief moment, his eyes meeting hers with a knowing gaze. "You're so beautiful like this," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin before he resumed, his mouth relentless and hungry. Each flick of his tongue drove her higher, his pace quickening, coaxing her toward climax.
Emilia's breathing quickened as her release crested over her, wave after wave of ecstasy washing through her, leaving her breathless and trembling. But Alistair didn't stop, instead, he intensified his movements, savoring every drop of her pleasure as if he'd been starved. Her second climax built faster, her body giving in without hesitation, the pleasure more intense than before.
"Oh, Al.." she managed to gasp, her voice barely audible amidst the music and murmurs around them.
He paused only briefly, his dark gaze meeting hers. "I'm not finished yet," he whispered, a teasing, possessive edge to his tone.
Without waiting for her response, he continued, his pace unyielding, determined to push her toward a third release. Her body trembled, every muscle tensed as he drew out one final, overwhelming climax, leaving her utterly spent. She lay motionless on the sofa, her chest rising and falling, the pleasure still pulsing through her in residual waves.
When Alistair finally emerged from beneath her gown, his lips were glistening with evidence of her release, a satisfied, almost predatory gleam in his eyes. He licked his lips slowly, savoring the taste, his gaze never leaving hers.
"You taste as exquisite as I remember," he said, voice dark and rich with desire. He leaned down, his lips brushing hers in a gentle yet tantalizing kiss, his eyes smoldering. "But I'm not sure I'm satisfied just yet," he added, his fingers tracing along her thigh, a promise of more to come.
Emilia met his gaze, her own eyes heavy-lidded with lingering desire. "Then don't stop," she whispered back, a small, defiant smile on her lips.
Alistair's smile widened, his hands tightening around her as he prepared to claim her all over again, both of them surrendering fully to the passion that bound them.
***