Malvor weaved them through the opulent crowd with practiced ease, his arm wrapped proudly around hers as if she were both his prize and his equal. The music pulsed around them, laughter echoing off golden columns, but he moved with a confidence that parted the masses like silk in water.
They ascended the grand dias, reserved only for the Pantheon and their chosen guests, its steps lined with braziers and lotus petals that shimmered like sunlight on glass. From this vantage point, the party was a sea of gold, laughter, and divine excess.
Annie clung to his arm, her steps graceful, but her eyes were elsewhere.
At the far end of the platform stood Luxor, the birthday god himself, dressed like royalty born from sunlight. His long, dark hair shimmered with gold thread, braided down his back, and his bronze skin glowed as though the sun were blooming from beneath it. Gone was the perfectly tailored suit she had seen at the last meeting. This version of Luxor? This was something else entirely.
He radiated power and allure with every breath. He looked like he could burn cities just by glancing at them.
They waited while a minor deity, glittering and forgettable, bowed and was dismissed. Then, as silence opened for them, Malvor swept into an exaggerated, sarcastic bow that nearly took out a floral centerpiece.
"Luxor, you incandescent egotist, you radiant beacon of self-love, you walking sunbeam of vanity, truly, you are the light we all aspire to be, and the reason half this crowd brought sunglasses."
Annie smothered a laugh behind her hand.
Luxor, unfazed, did not even glance at Malvor. His golden eyes were locked entirely on her.
They swept over her with slow, calculated appreciation, as if weighing every inch of her gilded, translucent attire, every shimmer of body paint, every gemstone set into her jewelry.
"What minor goddess have you brought, Malvor?" he asked, his voice smooth as polished bronze. "Is she here to bless the Nile or just blind us with her beauty?"
Malvor laughed, smug and utterly delighted. He slid his arm around Annie's waist, pulling her closer.
"You brought me a birthday gift, Malvor?" Luxor asked, his voice smooth.
Malvor smirked but did not miss a beat.
"This is Anastasia," he said. "My sacrifice. My chosen consort. Not a gift, Luxor, just something far too precious for your collection."
Luxor raised a single brow, his gaze still lingering on Annie. "Pity. I was hoping you had finally developed taste."
Malvor's expression didn't change. Still grinning, still relaxed. Not a flicker of anything real crossed his face. Not here. Not now. His thumb just traced lazy circles against Annie's lower back, as if utterly unbothered.
"She has enough taste for both of us," Malvor replied smoothly. "But do keep looking, flattery suits you. Like everything else you wear."
Luxor chuckled lowly. "Well then, Anastasia," he said, turning his full attention to her, "if ever you grow tired of chaos, there's always room in the light."
Annie smiled politely, her tone even. "I have spent enough time in temples to know how dangerous light can be."
Malvor's grin twitched, just slightly. Then he bowed again, this time mockingly toward Luxor's sandals. "Happy birthday, oh radiant one. Shall we continue the festivities before your head outgrows your crown?"
Luxor only laughed, already turning toward his next guest.
Malvor, arm steady around Annie's waist, led her toward the celebration without a word of what he felt.
But she felt it all anyway, every flicker of jealousy, every guarded instinct, every raw, unspoken emotion he hid so well from the rest of the world.
The feast unfolded in decadent waves beneath the star-strewn sky. Giant braziers cast golden light across alabaster columns wrapped in silk, and the air hummed with exotic music played by divine musicians, half mortal, half magic. The tables were carved from dark stone, inlaid with gold and lapis, arranged in a crescent that framed the water.
Guests lounged on cushions and low couches, draped in gauzy finery, fanned by enchanted feathers that moved on their own. Soft laughter rose over the clinking of goblets and the low roar of conversation.
Annie was seated beside Malvor at the Pantheon's table, the best view in the entire realm stretching before her. She caught herself marveling at it all, how surreal it was, how beautiful, how ridiculous.
Then chaos, as always, arrived on cue.
A servant, dressed like a baboon in gold, tripped over a trailing curtain. The platter he was carrying flipped, sending roasted quail and flatbread hurtling through the air. One piece of quail slapped right into Maximus's sculpted chest with a wet sound.
There was a full three seconds of stunned silence.
Malvor, bless him, didn't miss a beat. He leaned toward Annie and whispered loudly enough for half the table to hear, "Well, that bird clearly recognized its own kind and tried to fly home."
Annie choked on her drink, laughing despite herself.
Maximus glared, juice dripping down his chest. "You're one loose thread away from being an entire wardrobe malfunction, Malvor."
"Oh, darling," Malvor purred, draping an arm behind Annie, "jealousy doesn't suit you. But roasted looks good on you. Delicious, really."
Annie wiped a tear of laughter from her eye, shaking her head. "You are so inappropriate."
"I'm not inappropriate. I'm culturally immersive."
Luxor did not even look up from his wine.
The rest of the feast continued in dazzling chaos. Dancers spun with fire on their fingertips, one of the meat skewers caught on fire and was paraded through the tables like a torch until someone dunked it in the ceremonial wine fountain. Annie was handed what she thought was a pastry but turned out to be some sort of candied lotus root filled with liquor. She gasped, and Malvor raised a toast with the most smug look in history.
"To surprises, Annie my Desert Flame. May they always taste better than expected."
And through it all, laughter. Shared glances. The gentle, secret brush of hands under the table.
Even surrounded by gods, the only chaos that mattered was theirs.