25. Chapter 25
T he ballroom glittered with winter’s splendor.
Velvet banners of deep silver and pale ivory draped from the vaulted ceiling.
Glass chandeliers swirled with slow-turning enchantments, scattering prismatic light that danced across the marble floor.
Fae nobles drifted across the floor, gowns and cloaks glistening, their movements weaving seamlessly with the lilting music.
Ren felt their stares as she entered, a tantalizing mixture of curiosity and judgment.
Her boots clicked against the polished floor as she descended the grand staircase. She didn’t need to belong here. She only needed to earn her coin and get as far away from all this bullshit as her legs could carry her.
At the heart of the ballroom, a high fae female rested upon a dais veiled in gossamer silk.
Long, slender fingers danced effortlessly across the strings of an ornate harp.
Her beauty was so striking, it felt otherworldly – skin like moonlit porcelain, hair a cascade of silver that spilled over her shoulders like liquid starlight.
Each note she plucked seemed to breathe magic into the room.
Ren’s eyes shifted and inevitably fell on someone whose very sight had a very different reaction for Ren .
Kaelin stood like moonlight carved into flesh. She wore crimson silk that clung to every lethal curve of her body, the fabric flowing like liquid fire over hips and waist, daring the eye to linger.
Their eyes met across the ballroom, and for a moment, the world narrowed. Kaelin’s mouth curved into a smile that promised nothing but trouble.
Ren exhaled. “Gods save me,” she muttered under her breath. Without breaking stride, she snatched a glass of wine off the tray of a passing servant and took a deep swig. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and muttered, “Let’s get this over with.”
Ren lingered near the refreshment table, sipping wines that were too sweet and far too strong as nobles spun past her as if they were stars in orbit, unsurprisingly uninterested in speaking with Ren.
And Kaelin was a constellation all her own.
She moved through couples like the wind before a storm, a force to be reckoned with.
She was laughing softly against the shoulders of those who dared step close.
A tall male with storm-gray eyes twirled her once, and Kaelin’s answering smile was all teeth.
Then a female with midnight-dark braids took her hand, pulling her into a faster step.
Kaelin didn’t miss a beat, her skirts a swirl of crimson.
But in between those steps, those dances, her gaze kept flicking back to Ren. A glance over a partner’s shoulder. A fleeting sweep across the room.
Not enough to be obvious.
But enough to piss Ren off.
Ren hated balls. She hated velvet and tight corsets and wine that tasted like spiced cranberries and mulled plums. Realizing she was on her second glass, she figured okay, perhaps she didn’t hate the wine, but if anyone asked, she’d die before admitting she liked it.
Ren reached for another glass of wine when she caught the scent of expensive scented oil and ego.
She didn’t need to turn to know it was Lucan Brightbane because his presence slithered into the space beside her like a cold draft.
But when she did glance, she was met with his usual display: blues and whites tailored to perfection, a cascade of golden hair swept back from his sculpted features, glowing beneath the enchanted lights overhead .
“Lucky me,” Ren muttered under her breath, raising the glass to her lips. “We always seem to find each other. Tell me, Lucan, are we star-crossed lovers, or is the universe just playing a cruel joke? What’s next, tragic ballads about our forbidden love?”
Lucan didn’t bite. And that threw Ren more than a venom-laced insult would have.
Instead, he asked quietly, “What’s your intention here? Climbing the ranks? Plenty of humans have tried. None made it far.”
Ren took a slow, deliberate sip of her wine. She kept her gaze locked on his over the rim.
“Your kind doesn’t belong here.”
Ren barked a humorless laugh and shook her head.
“Believe me, I’m well aware. You think I want to be here, playing soldier in a court that sees me as dirt under its boots?
” She set the glass down, her voice leveling.
“I’m here to help Prince Talen deal with the lovely nightmare creatures clawing their way out of the hells.
That’s it. I have no ambition to climb any ranks.
In fact, I don’t give a damn about ranks.
” When Lucan’s mouth twitched in open doubt, she added, “As soon as this is over, I’m gone.
So if you’re worried about me being a threat to your place at the top, don’t be. ”
His face gave nothing away, but her eyes caught a faint discoloration marring his otherwise flawless cheekbone. Concealed beneath whatever fae powder passed for vanity.
She tilted her head, hiding a smirk. “Rough day at training?”
Lucan scowled. “You could say that.”
Ren sipped her wine, secretly savoring the image. He was probably used to winning, used to everyone stepping aside when he entered a room. It was oddly satisfying to know she’d left a mark.
She let out a long breath. “Look. I’m not saying we have to braid each other’s hair or whatever it is your kind does to bond. Let’s get through training without killing each other. After that, I vanish from your world. You’ll never hear my name again.”
Lucan studied her. “You give me your word?”
Ren raised her glass and gave a toast. “You bet, and I never back from my word.”
As their glasses clinked, Mirella’s words about the Winter Solstice tugged at Ren’s mind, how this was a night for pacts and promises, for fates to be reshaped beneath the solstice moon. Maybe tonight doesn’t have to be just their bargains. Maybe it can be the start of mine.
Lucan slipped away into the crowd, and movement flickered at the edge of Ren’s vision. Ren turned, instincts flaring. Kaelin glided toward her between songs, her steps lazy and unhurried, like a lioness with no need to chase. A half-circle of nobles trailed in the fae princess’s wake.
“Happy Winter Solstice,” Kaelin greeted, her gaze sweeping over Ren from head to toe, lingering a moment too long at her hips. “Interesting choice of attire. Did you receive my generous gift?”
“I received it. Just not my color.” Ren raised her glass without warmth. “Happy Winter Solstice, Your Royal Highness.”
“You do clean up nicely. I almost didn’t recognize you. Mortals look so very different when they’re pretending to be one of us.”
A sharp, too-loud laugh echoed behind the fae princess, belonging to one of Kaelin’s courtiers, lips curled with mockery.
Color bloomed in Ren’s cheeks. “Funny. I was just thinking how easy it must be for you to pretend you’re above everyone else.”
The laughter cut off sharply.
One of the courtiers stepped forward, eyes flashing as her canines bared. “Watch your tongue, mortal. You’ll not speak to Your Highness that way and leave with it intact.”
Kaelin’s hand came to rest lightly on the courtier’s arm, her touch calm but commanding enough to halt the lesser fae mid-step. Her eyes never left Ren’s.
“It’s fine,” Kaelin purred. “She’s still learning how to behave. It’s endearing, really, how she thinks mouthing off makes her look brave, when all it does is prove how desperately out of her depth she is.”
The words landed with such effortless disdain that Ren’s breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she could only stare.
But that wasn’t all.
Kaelin tilted her head. “Word says you were impressive with that first creature. So impressive, in fact, that word has already reached me of how you froze like a startled doe and nearly lost your head when it caught you in its stupor. Makes me wonder if you’re really a worthy investment for the crown…
or just another mortal playing at heroics until the game turns too real. ”
A ripple of laughter rose among the courtiers behind Kaelin, soft at first, then sharper, crueler, until it filled the space around Ren. She swallowed it down, turned on her heel without another word, and stormed toward the balcony.
The cold met her like a slap, wind tugging at her hair, at the silk of her skirts. She pressed her palms to the railing.
“She’s got a sharp tongue,” came a voice behind her.
Ren didn’t have to turn. “Your sister’s a piece of work.”
Talen stepped beside her. “That’s one way to put it.”
Ren let out a slow breath, trying to calm the flicker of heat that threatened her palms. “Why did I even come tonight? First dealing with Lucan, then her.”
“She invited you because she wanted to see if you’d show.”
Ren shot him a look.
“She’s testing you. She does that. Especially with people she doesn’t know how to feel about.”
“Is that what that was? A test?” Ren snorted. “It felt more like a public execution.”
“She’s… protective,” Talen admitted. “Of her family. Of this court. Of the people she trusts. She doesn’t give that trust easily, but she’ll fight like hell for the ones who earn it.”
Ren sighed. “I wonder what she does to the ones who don’t earn it.”
Talen offered her the flask tucked at his hip. Ren took it, drank, and stared out at the stars.
Inside, the ballroom spun on without her.
Ren stared out at the gardens a moment longer. The world beyond the balcony was still, pristine, perfect.
But the storm inside her had only just begun.
The chill curled around her like a second skin, but it wasn’t the cold that made her shiver. It was Kaelin’s voice still echoing in her ears, each word laced with mockery and sharpened with dismissal. Words meant to cut, and though Ren would never admit it aloud, they had.
You froze like a doe.
Out of your depth.
Not worth the crown’s investment.
Ren felt the weight of the words pressing down on her chest, stealing her breath for one suffocating moment. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms as the laughter from behind them echoed in her ears.
Why was she even here? Was the money worth it?
Her mind dragged her back to the pits, back to the bloodied knuckles, split lips, the copper taste of her own blood as she stumbled home with coin heavy in her pocket but pain deeper in her wounds.
She thought of sleepless nights bent over her own lacerations, of the victories that had kept her alive but left her empty and alone at night.
It would be slower, harder, but she could always go back and fight for her own coin. She wouldn’t have to deal with Kaelin and her fae court.
And for a heartbeat, the idea almost sounded like freedom.
“Thinking about running?”
Talen’s voice broke through her thoughts. His gaze was already on her, as though he could read every word she hadn’t said aloud.
“You’d leave all this,” he said, gesturing faintly to the glittering palace behind them, “and let someone else decide who you are, what you’re worth, before you’ve had the chance to prove them all wrong?”
“I don’t give a damn what they think.” The words came sharp, but the faint glisten in her eyes betrayed her resolve.
Talen’s gaze softened as he studied her. “Gods help me, Ren… you’re already more than worthy. You just haven’t realized it yet.”
His words landed heavier than she expected, sinking deep, leaving her chest tight and her breath seizing in her throat. The question – thinking about running? – lingered, cutting through her doubt like a blade. And though she hated to admit it, she already knew her answer.
Fine.
Ren would be damned if she let these arrogant fae decide what she was capable of and, more importantly, who she was.
And so, on this cold winter solstice night, beneath the glittering towers of the palace that mocked her very presence, Ren made a silent vow to herself: she would show them all.
Starting tonight.
If Kaelin wanted to make her the evening’s entertainment, then Ren would give her a performance that no one in this palace would forget.
One Kaelin would never forget.
Ren turned sharply from the balcony, skirts slicing through the air as she stalked back into the ballroom. Out of the corner of her eye, she barely caught the ghost of Talen’s approving grin, his flask lifted in a silent salute before the crowd swallowed him from view.
Inside, the music had shifted, something fast, bright. Laughter rose from the crowd, but it dulled the moment Ren crossed the threshold.
Her gaze found Kaelin instantly.
Kaelin stood at the edge of the dance floor, a courtier murmuring something into her ear. But Kaelin’s eyes flicked past them and straight to Ren.
Ren didn’t slow. She didn’t hesitate. She crossed the room like a storm with a purpose. Kaelin straightened ever so slightly.
“Care for a dance, Your Royal Highness?” Ren asked.
Kaelin raised a brow. “Bold of you to assume I would say yes.”
Ren extended her hand anyway, lips curling. “Bold of you to pretend you’d say no.”
A beat passed. A flicker of challenge sparked in Kaelin’s gaze.
Then she took Ren’s hand.
The crowd around them thinned as they stepped into the center of the ballroom. Eyes followed their every move, curiosity mingling with amusement.
The music surged.
Ren didn’t wait.
She spun Kaelin hard and fast, catching the fae princess off guard. Kaelin let out a startled laugh, but she recovered with grace only the fae possessed, shifting into the lead with a pivot that forced Ren to follow.
They circled each other like flames tasting dry wood.
One step forward, one step back.
Spins. Swerves. Palms pressed too close. Hips brushing in rhythm.
Neither relented.
“Is this how mortals dance?” Kaelin purred, voice low enough for only Ren to hear. “Like they’re fighting for their lives?”
Ren smirked. “This is how mortals dance when they’ve got nothing left to lose.”
She gripped Kaelin’s waist, dipped her low and fast before pulling her back upright, their faces a breath apart.
“Maybe it’s time you learned.”
Kaelin’s laugh was startled, and for a heartbeat, her polished mask cracked. But then Kaelin spun them again, reclaiming control .
And still, they danced. Spiraling in time to a song too fast, too wild, for anything royal.
By the time the final note hit, both were flushed and breathing hard – hands locked tighter than necessary.
Ren released Kaelin’s hand first.
They stood in the eye of the ballroom, the world watching, the silence electric.
“Just so we’re clear,” Ren murmured to Kaelin, low enough for only the fae princess to hear, “no one makes me feel less than. Not you, and especially not your court.” Her gaze flicked meaningfully to Kaelin’s crown.
“And that pretty thing on your head is more breakable than you think. Don’t forget,” she added, smirk deepening, “ fire melts steel .”