Chapter XXII. Ellery
XXII
ELLERY
WINTER
When the darkness descends to its deepest, Ellery recited to herself, a hero’s flame illumes the cast of night.
In the nearly three weeks of waiting to fulfill their previous prophecy piece, Winter had remained docile.
No scurge or ghast attacks had been reported since Ellery and Domenic had fought Decibel.
Now, at last, the Winter solstice had arrived, and Ellery was more confident than ever that the Chosen Two would receive their next piece at sundown during the solstice ceremony, when they’d be the first in the country to light their candles on the longest night of the year.
Domenic peeked behind the stage curtain and scoffed. “This is just as ridiculous as I remember.”
“Wait, you’ve gone to the Solstice Gala before?” Ellery asked.
“When I was ten, Darby Motors was that year’s primary sponsor. My dad dragged the whole family.” He gestured with false grandness at the logo on his electric candle, then he tugged at his gaudy Summer-gold bow tie.
“Oh, how you’ve suffered,” she quipped. “You know, I used to dream of attending the gala. It’s got the best red carpet looks.”
Domenic’s gaze strayed over her. His brow quirked. “I’ll admit, I’m not suffering so much this year.”
Ellery flushed beneath her makeup, pleased.
For her own red carpet look, she’d chosen a dress that she hoped befitted her status as a fashion icon, cut from deep indigo silk that draped and flared and flattered.
Her hair was an airy halo around her cheeks, her now-trademark necklace prominently displayed at her throat and paired with matching earrings.
The back of her gown dipped daringly low, leaving her aware of the rustle of air against her shoulder blades.
And even as Domenic looked hastily away, she couldn’t stop wondering how his hands would feel, skimming her spine.
Despite still being careful not to touch skin to skin, their flirting was growing more difficult to deny.
Ellery was spared from having to respond when the CEO of the Aldrish National Bank, this year’s gala sponsor, announced, “Give a warm welcome to our special guests: the Chosen Two!”
Applause thundered as Ellery and Domenic emerged onto the stage overlooking the dim ballroom.
The Solstice Gala was always hosted in the political district’s Crystalline Pavilion, as the venue’s glass exterior offered the perfect sunset view.
The guests ranged from businessmen and politicians to actors and other celebrities.
Golden-hour light cascaded upon their fine clothes and coiffed hair, their electric candles raised aloft like champagne glasses in expectation of a toast. It was all a far cry from the Winter before, when Ellery’s festivities had consisted of a messy student party at the Citadel.
“And now,” the CEO said, as the sun sank below the horizon, “let the Chosen Two be the first line of defense against our bleakest night.”
The entire room descended into an expectant hush. Beyond the windows, lights doused across the skyline until the City of Magic was swathed in shadow. Even though Ellery knew it was all for show, the sight still made her breath hitch.
Together, Domenic and Ellery switched on their electric taper candles. Soon more candles joined their own, until the room was illuminated by a hundred tiny spotlights.
Ellery waited, listening. This was the moment. It had to be. And since Domenic had received the last prophecy piece, presumably it was her turn. But as seconds dragged on, she heard nothing.
Domenic leaned down and whispered. “Anything?”
“No. I’m guessing you didn’t hear anything either?”
“Nope.”
“Put your hands together for Alderland’s heroes!” crowed the CEO. The crowd clapped again. A band broke into a jaunty tune. And the Solstice Gala began in earnest.
The two of them hurried offstage, where Glynn and Hanna waited expectantly in the greenroom. Yet when Ellery and Domenic explained they’d come up empty, their questions turned from eager to anxious.
“Should we find the rest of the Council?” Ellery asked nervously.
“No, we don’t have time for a meeting,” said Glynn. “If the piece really does refer to tonight, we have a mere fifteen hours until dawn.”
Domenic blanched. “What happens if we don’t get the next one in time?”
“Then I suppose we’d better hope we were wrong about the solstice. Otherwise, we’ll have to wait another year.”
Ellery and Domenic exchanged panicked glances.
Each time in history Valmordion had thawed, it had never been clear precisely when the cataclysm would descend.
Although it always occurred during Winter, sometimes it arrived the year Valmordion thawed, while sometimes it waited several winters more.
But even if they could try again at the next solstice, the risk was astronomical. They couldn’t fail. They couldn’t.
“No, we’re not waiting,” Ellery said. “We’ll figure this out. There must be something we missed.”
“Well, given the solstice’s significance, its history, where else could the prophecy be leading?” Glynn asked. “Mayes? Any thoughts?”
Hanna’s gaze hovered on an aimless point on the floral wallpaper, her finger resting atop Syarthis’s sheath within her jacket. She wore a full burgundy tuxedo, and a black satin cummerbund accentuated her wide hips.
“Hanna?” Domenic pressed.
Hanna cursed, and her eyes rolled as they righted. “I’m trying to focus. This gala is the largest solstice celebration in the country, and I did not just spend an hour small-talking to some pompous prick about his second yacht for this all to have been bullshit.”
Domenic gestured at the logo on his candle snidely. “Oh, I’m pretty sure this has been bullshit either way.”
Something in Ellery snagged on that word. The sponsorships, the electric candles …
“I’ve got an idea,” she gasped. “Glynn, you know about the student solstice party, don’t you?”
“Oh, goodness, the fire hazard?” His brow furrowed. “You think the prophecy could be referring to that?”
“I do. It might be silly, but it derives from ancient tradition, right?”
Glynn absently adjusted his tie in a way Ellery knew meant he was thinking. “Mayes, how long would it take you to verify the tradition’s history in Syarthis’s Archives?”
“Um, considering I have no idea what party you’re even talking about,” Hanna said flatly. “A while.”
Glynn turned to Ellery. “And how long would it take you to check?”
“I’m not sure. An hour or two?”
“Then in the meantime, we’ll speak to the rest of the Council and prepare some alternatives, just in case.” Glynn paused, and Ellery sensed there was something else he wanted to say. Then he grimaced and urged, “What are you waiting for? Go.”
The siren above their car wailed as Ellery sank into the backseat beside Domenic and slammed the door.
“How long until we reach the Citadel?” Ellery asked their driver.
“Normally with the siren on I’d say fifteen minutes,” he answered. “But with the holiday traffic and road closures, we’re talking twenty minutes at best. Maybe more.”
“Thanks.” Ellery wrenched up the partition and cast a soundproofing enchantment. Then she hissed out a long, vicious string of profanities.
“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Domenic muttered, drumming his fingers against his kneecap. “Tell me about this student solstice party. I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s an informal tradition. There’s this creepy cave on the north side of campus. Everyone builds a fire pit inside it and lights candles, and there’s always a bit of a pissing contest over who can enchant the strongest graffiti on the walls.”
Ellery and Julian had gone every Winter.
The previous year, he’d mended a few burns from overeager NDC groupies who’d brought fireworks instead of candles.
She’d accidentally won the graffiti contest after Demelza cajoled her into participating.
They’d all talked about how excited they were to be done with school, how their first wand vigils were fast approaching.
Three weeks had passed since she and Julian had last spoken. He still wasn’t taking her calls.
“So we’re about to, what,” Domenic said, “burst in and shut down the party early?”
“It’ll probably be done by the time we show up. The real fun starts at the after-party in someone’s dorm room.”
Domenic uttered a quiet laugh and stared out the window. “Huh. I really missed a lot, didn’t I?”
Ellery thought of the Domenic Barrow she’d known only as the occasional ghost in the back of a classroom.
Whenever his name was mentioned, it was either to whisper about his tragic backstory or the rumors of which students were bold enough to “go there.” And so Ellery could understand why he preferred to live off-campus and avoid it all.
But she couldn’t deny that he’d lost something he couldn’t get back.
“And if it’s not this party, if the Council doesn’t think of an alternative, what then?” Domenic asked tightly. “Just because there hasn’t been another scurge doesn’t mean there won’t ever be.”
Ellery swallowed and tugged at her necklace. “Every other time we’ve trusted our instincts, we’ve been right.”
“I know. Sorry. I-I trust you. It’s just, fifteen minutes ago, we were so sure. We were good. And now, one night … it’s not a lotta time.” He reached into his pocket, seeming to fish for dandelions that weren’t there. Then he withdrew his hand and flexed his fingers.
“It’s not,” Ellery admitted. “But—”
“We waited weeks for tonight. I can’t wait another year.” He pressed his back into the seat cushions and forced out a shaky breath.
Ellery had never seen him like this. Usually he was the comforting one, the steadying one, while she was always worrying, always doubting.
“Dom,” she said gently, and when he didn’t respond, she reached for his hand and laced her fingers through his. Her magic responded instantly, cold surging against heat, as exhilarating as it was disorienting. Ellery felt it in her head. Her chest.