12. Dante
12
Dante
D ante adjusted the stiff collar of his uniform, glancing out the passenger window as Sebastian navigated the winding road toward Blackthorn Manor. The polished fabric brushed against his skin, a far cry from his usual leather jacket or casual shirts. The sharp creases of his jacket sleeves and the polished medals across his chest added a weight he wasn’t used to carrying, but the uniform felt like armor—a statement as much as a choice.
Lucas’s laughter from earlier that evening echoed in his memory. “You’re really going all out, huh?” Lucas had said, leaning against the doorway of the dorm common room.
“Shut it,” Dante snapped at him, but Lucas’s smirk lingered, even now.
Sebastian had stayed quiet since picking him up. He’d greeted Dante with a nod, but his usual composed demeanor had slipped for a fraction of a second. Dante had caught it—the way Sebastian’s eyes widened, tracing the ARC patch on his shoulder and the vivid red accents tailored to reflect his fire element. That flicker of surprise had softened into something else, something harder to define but unmistakable as Sebastian’s gaze lingered just a moment too long.
It was worth every second.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” Sebastian said finally, his words measured but tinged with something quieter.
Dante glanced over, catching the way Sebastian’s silver-gray eyes darted his way again before quickly returning to the road. “What? Put on a uniform? You invited me to a fancy party. Might as well give them something to talk about.”
Sebastian’s lips twitched, almost like he was holding back a smile. “You’ll definitely do that.”
“Good,” Dante said, settling back against the seat.
Another glance, quick but unmistakable. Sebastian’s gaze swept over him as though he couldn’t help himself, biting his bottom lip before his eyes darted back to the road.
Heat rose to his neck, but he clenched his jaw, pretending not to notice. He wasn’t used to being looked at like that, and it left him equal parts flattered and unsettled.
Finally, as the road curved, the Blackthorn estate came into view, stone towers on either side reaching toward the night sky. Distant lights cast the sprawling gardens into shadowy shapes, an ominous elegance that left Dante speechless. He tightened his grip on the door handle. This wasn’t his world, but he’d face it head-on.
Sebastian shifted in his seat, adjusting his tie with a quick motion. His hands lingered on the fabric for a second too long, and Dante caught another sidelong glance, this one slower, more deliberate.
“If my mother makes a comment about your uniform, don’t take it personally,” Sebastian said, his tone calm but bracing, like he was preparing for impact.
Dante shrugged, smirking as he adjusted the cuffs of his jacket. “It was either this or jeans.”
Sebastian glanced over, a rare smile breaking through his otherwise tense expression. “Jeans? My mother would kill anyone who dared to show up in denim at one of her parties.”
A low chuckle escaped Dante as he leaned back in the seat. “Made the right choice I guess.”
Sebastian’s laughter joined his, warm and fleeting. “Oh, you definitely made the right choice, if I have anything to say about it,” he said. His heated stare made Dante swallow—hard. “And they won’t know what hit them,” he added.
As they pulled into the driveway, Sebastian’s shoulders stiffened, his polished exterior sliding into place like a well-worn mask. Dante watched him from the corner of his eye, noting the way his fingers flexed against the wheel, the way his gaze flicked back toward him once more before looking forward.
“You good?” Dante asked.
Sebastian didn’t look at him, his focus fixed forward. “Just another family gathering,” he said.
Dante frowned but didn’t press further. “Let’s get this over with.”
Sebastian’s lips curved into a wry smile, though his eyes lingered on Dante for a beat longer than necessary. “That’s the spirit.”
Sebastian slowed the car along the cobblestone drive, his grip on the wheel steady but his jaw tighter than before. The vehicle came to a smooth stop near the grand entrance, and Dante caught a glimpse of staff moving with precise efficiency, their dark uniforms blending seamlessly into the night.
“You weren’t kidding,” Dante said, stepping out of the car and straightening his jacket. The sheer opulence of the manor left him feeling out of place, the polished boots of his uniform clicking against the stones as he followed Sebastian toward the stone steps.
Sebastian’s gaze flicked toward him. “It’s a… lot.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Dante muttered, eyeing the towering double doors ahead. Each carved panel told a story—battles, triumphs and family legacies etched in painstaking detail. “Do you all live like this?”
“Most do,” Sebastian said, climbing the steps. His polished shoes moved silently, his posture straight and composed, but Dante noticed the way his fingers brushed his tie, a small, restless gesture. “But it’s not as welcoming as it looks.”
“This says, welcoming to you?” Dante huffed a quiet laugh, though his gaze lingered on the heavy doors as they swung open without a knock.
A woman in a crisp uniform stepped aside, bowing her head as she greeted them. “Welcome back, Mr. Sebastian. Your family and guests are gathered on the back lawn.”
Sebastian nodded, his polite smile returned. “Thanks, Marta. Everything ready?”
“As always,” Marta said, stepping aside to let them pass. Her gaze darted to Dante before returning to Sebastian, her expression unreadable.
Dante followed Sebastian into the grand foyer, his boots moving across polished marble that reflected the soft glow of crystal chandeliers. The air carried a hint of lavender, subtle yet intentional, adding to the calculated elegance of the space. His shoulders tensed as his eyes swept over the sweeping staircases, ornate columns, and gilded accents—a physical representation of the Blackthorn legacy.
Sebastian walked ahead. “You all right?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Yeah,” Dante said. “Just… taking it in.”
Sebastian’s lips curved into a slight smile. “It’s overwhelming at first.”
“No kidding,” Dante said, adjusting the cuffs of his uniform. The grandeur of the place contrasted sharply with his memories of Brackenridge—the modest homes, the smell of fresh-cut grass, the quiet hum of neighbors chatting on porches. He felt the gap between this world and his own with every step.
They exited through a set of tall glass doors, stepping onto a stone terrace that overlooked the sprawling back lawn. Rows of tables dressed in fine linens were arranged under glowing canopies, their surfaces adorned with elegant centerpieces of crystal and white roses. Waitstaff moved seamlessly between the tables, trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres balanced effortlessly in their hands.
“It’s like a fairy tale threw up on a garden party,” Dante said, his gaze sweeping over the scene.
Sebastian choked back a quiet laugh beside him, turning away, his shoulders shaking. And Dante grinned to himself, glad that he could take some of that uncharacteristic heaviness off him, even for just a moment.
The polished crowd was already mingling, their laughter light and practiced. As they descended the stone steps toward the lawn, he straightened his shoulders, falling into step beside Sebastian. Despite his discomfort, he forced his expression to remain neutral. He wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him unsettled.
Sebastian slowed as they reached the edge of the crowd, his mask of composure slipping into place. He glanced at Dante, his silver-gray eyes catching the light. “You ready?”
Dante took a steady breath. “As I’ll ever be.”
***
Lady Morgana’s presence was impossible to miss. She stood near the center of the gathering, emerald-green fabric flowing around her as though she had stepped out of a painting. A pearl-draped hand rested on the arm of a guest, her smile polite but sharp, every inch the orchestrator of the evening.
Sebastian straightened as they approached, his mask of composure slipping firmly into place. “Mother,” he said, inclining his head.
Morgana’s smile widened, her sharp dark eyes appraising her son as she stepped forward. “Sebastian, darling. Punctual as always.” Her gaze flicked to Dante, her expression flickering with curiosity before settling back on Sebastian. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten your manners entirely.”
“I’d never dream of it,” Sebastian replied. “It’s your party, after all.”
Morgana’s laugh was light but rehearsed, her hand brushing against Sebastian’s arm. “And who might your guest be?” she asked, her tone pointed.
Dante stepped forward, meeting her gaze without hesitation. “Dante Reed,” he said. “I work within the government.”
Morgana’s brows lifted, her smile sharpening. “A government official? How… interesting.” Her gaze swept over his polished uniform, lingering on the ARC patch at his shoulder. “And what brings you to our little gathering, Mr. Reed?”
“Your son invited me,” Dante said. “I thought it best to make an effort.”
Morgana studied him for a moment longer before nodding, the edge of her smile softening. “Well, you’re certainly making an impression on someone, that’s for sure… He’s never invited a guest before.”
Dante blinked at that information. But she turned back to Sebastian before he could reply.
“And how is your work going, darling? Still consulting on those fires, I assume?” she asked. “Such dreadful business.”
“Progress is slow, but steady but going as expected,” Sebastian said.
Morgana tilted her head, her expression carrying the weight of practiced interest. “You’re being careful, aren’t you?”
“Of course. But magic always carries an element of risk,” Sebastian said, his eyes steady on hers.
Before Morgana could press further, a wry voice broke through the conversation.
“Brother, you didn’t tell me you were bringing a guest.”
A man approached, a glass of champagne in hand, his grin wide and unapologetic. The sharp lines of his suit hinted at wealth, but the loosened tie and casual gait suggested he cared little for propriety. As he moved closer, shadows seemed to shift unnaturally around him, darting along the ground and stretching where they shouldn’t.
Dante chalked it up to a trick of the light, but his unease lingered. The man’s dark eyes gleamed with mischief, equal parts playful and unsettling, as he looked between Sebastian and Dante.
“And here I thought you hated parties,” the man said.
“I do,” Sebastian replied, his tone dry. He gestured toward the man with a flick of his hand. “Dante, meet my younger brother, Rylan.”
Rylan tilted his head, his grin widening. “Rylan Blackthorn. The ‘fun one,’ as I’m often told.”
Dante nodded, holding his gaze evenly. “Dante Reed.”
“Reed,” Rylan repeated, dragging the name out as though testing its weight. His gaze swept over his uniform. “A government man, eh? That’s bold, even for you, Sebby.”
Sebastian grimaced at the nickname. “I thought I’d change things up,” he said. “Besides, he’s better company than most of the people here.”
“High praise,” Rylan said. “Interesting. So, Mr. Reed, what brings you to our little soiree? I can’t imagine he invited you for the wine.”
Sebastian sighed, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Ignore him,” he said, his tone clipped. “He thrives on being a nuisance.”
“Guilty,” Rylan said, raising his glass in mock surrender. His grin returned as he looked back at Dante. “Well, whatever the reason, welcome to the circus. I hope you’re ready.”
“Thanks,” Dante said, his expression cool. “I’ll manage.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Rylan said, his smirk lingering a little too long as he took a sip of champagne.
The banter between Rylan and Sebastian carried on, light but with an undercurrent of tension. Rylan’s teasing remarks brushed close to personal, though Sebastian deflected them with ease. Dante couldn’t help noticing the way Sebastian’s jaw tightened with each jab.
Morgana stepped in after a moment, her tone firm but cordial. “Must you always provoke each other?”
“Just making conversation,” Rylan said, raising his glass in mock surrender. “Don’t worry, Mother, I’ll behave.”
Sebastian glanced at Dante, his expression unreadable, before turning back to his mother. “Sorry, mother.”
Morgana’s smile remained fixed, though her gaze flicked between her sons with a sharpness that hinted at her own frustrations. “Good. Just remember why we’re here.”
Dante stood silently beside Sebastian, his presence seemingly unshaken, though the intricate tension between the Blackthorns left a distinct impression. He was beginning to see why Sebastian had invited him—this was more than a party. It was a battlefield.
And he’d needed backup desperately.
Especially as Morgana’s attention shifted to Dante, her smile poised but calculating. “Mr. Reed, let’s introduce you to the family. It’s not often Sebastian brings someone to one of our gatherings.”
Dante caught Sebastian’s slight grimace before Morgana swept him away, her emerald gown catching the soft glow of the garden lights. She guided him toward a group near the central pavilion, each figure standing out in their own way.
“Mr. Dante Reed,” Morgana began, her tone polished, “allow me to introduce my husband, Alaric Blackthorn.”
A tall man with silver-gray eyes met his gaze, the resemblance to Sebastian impossible to miss. His presence exuded quiet authority, his tailored suit perfectly fitted. “Mr. Reed,” Alaric said, extending a hand. “I understand you’re a guest of my son.”
Dante shook his hand, the grip firm. “Yes, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Alaric’s eyes lingered on him, assessing. “Government work, I hear?”
“That’s right,” Dante said, offering nothing more.
Alaric’s lips curved, though the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You must keep busy.”
“More than I’d like some days,” Dante replied, keeping his tone neutral.
Morgana interjected with a light laugh, her hand brushing Alaric’s arm. “Mr. Reed is being modest, I’m sure. Now, let’s not monopolize him. Cassandra, Edric, come here.”
Two figures approached—a woman with dark hair braided over one shoulder and a man holding a thick book tucked under one arm. Their twin features were striking, though Cassandra radiated a quiet elegance while Edric seemed more comfortable avoiding the spotlight.
“My eldest children, my daughter, Cassandra,” Morgana said, gesturing to the poised woman, “and my son, Edric.”
Cassandra inclined her head, her expression polite but distant. “Mr. Reed.”
Dante nodded. “Pleasure.”
Edric adjusted his glasses, offering a quick nod before retreating behind Cassandra, his attention already drifting back to the book he carried. Morgana’s smile tightened but remained fixed.
“And of course, you’ve met our youngest,” Morgana said, glancing toward Rylan, who had reappeared with another glass of champagne. “Though I can’t guarantee he’s made the best impression.”
“I always make an impression,” Rylan said, his grin unapologetic as he raised his glass toward Dante. “And Mr. Reed here seems like the type who can handle it.”
Before Dante could respond, Rylan closed the distance, slinging an arm over his shoulders. “You’ve got a good look about you, Reed. Not what I’d expect from dear old Sebby, play-boy bachelor extraordinaire to bring around, but I approve.”
The casual intimacy caught Dante off guard, but he didn’t push Rylan away, trying to keep his cool. “Glad to hear it,” he said, his amber eyes narrowing as he glanced toward him.
Rylan’s grin widened and he leaned in conspiratorially. “Though I’ll admit, I’m curious about what it is you do exactly. Something dangerous, I hope?”
Dante stiffened.
Before he figured out a reply, Sebastian appeared beside them, his arrival silent but charged. His silver-gray eyes were fixed on his brother. “ Rylan .”
Rylan chuckled, clearly unbothered, though he removed his arm with a casual shrug. “Relax, just being friendly.”
Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his gaze flicking to Dante. “Friendly isn’t your strong suit.”
Rylan’s grin didn’t falter as he took a sip of his champagne, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. “Always so serious. You should try to loosen up sometime.”
Dante shifted his weight as his brother sauntered away. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off Rylan’s touch. “He’s… a lot.”
Sebastian exhaled quietly, his expression softening when he met his gaze. “You have no idea.”
Morgana cut back in, her smile polished but pointed. “Sebastian, have you spoken to Lord Veylor yet? He’s been waiting to see you.”
Sebastian hesitated, his jaw tightening before he replied, “Not yet.” His tone was measured, but the words carried an edge.
“Well, don’t keep him waiting,” Morgana said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You know how important these relationships are.”
Sebastian’s lips curved into a small, practiced smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course. I’ll take Dante with me. I’m sure Lord Veylor would appreciate meeting someone from the government.”
Dante arched a brow, catching the flicker of tension beneath Sebastian’s calm exterior, but he said nothing.
Morgana hesitated briefly, her gaze flicking between them, before nodding. “That might be an excellent idea. Do make a good impression.”
Sebastian nodded smoothly, resting a hand on his back as he guided him away from the crowd. The moment they were out of earshot, his composure cracked just enough to reveal a hint of irritation. “We’re not going to see Veylor.”
Dante smirked, following as Sebastian led him through the side entrance of the mansion. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Sebastian glanced back, his silver-gray eyes glinting with amusement. “I do have my talents.”
Dante snorted.
The noise of the party faded as they moved deeper into the hallways, the cool marble underfoot a welcome contrast to the crowded lawn. Sebastian’s pace slowed, his hand adjusting his tie. “Needed an excuse to get out of there,” he admitted.
His gaze swept over the ornate hall, taking in the heavy-framed portraits and pristine decor. “Not a fan of the family politics?”
Sebastian stopped near a side alcove, leaning against the wall as he met his gaze. “Not particularly. But you probably figured that out already.”
“Didn’t need a government clearance to see it,” Dante said, his tone dry but not unkind.
Sebastian’s lips twitched into a smile, though the tension lingered in his posture. “This house has its moments, but tonight’s not one of them.”
Dante glanced back toward the distant hum of the party. “So, what now? We hide?”
Sebastian shrugged, his smile softening. “Think of it as a tactical retreat.”