71. Chapter 71
T he ballroom glittered like the heart of a jewel. Every surface glowed, every detail sharpened by candlelight and wine, until the hall felt less like stone and mortar and more like a dream of splendor spun into reality.
Kaelin had staged countless affairs of state, but this ball’s splendor might very well have been her magnum opus.
Even she could almost forget it was meant for politics and not a gallery.
Kaelin glided through the throng of guests.
Music surged and dipped from the string ensemble at the dais, dancers spun in whirlwinds of velvet and silk, jewels flashed at every throat and wrist. Scented oil, spiced and floral, mingled with the tang of their finest pastries and wine until even the air tasted decadent.
And yet, beneath the hum of voices and the clink of goblets, Kaelin felt the shiver in the stone, a tremor in the air.
The crystal chandeliers above trembled.
“Did you feel that shudder?” a fae noblewoman murmured over the rim of her goblet, cheeks flushed with wine.
Her betrothed leaned closer, his voice pitched low. “I felt it, too.”
Kaelin’s lips curved, smooth and practiced, as she waved a gloved hand gracefully. “Merely a draft, nothing more,” she purred, before inclining her head in graceful dismissal. She glided from them, skirts whispering across marble .
Across the hall, her mother’s laugh rang bright and brittle, gilded over with courtesy. But when their gazes locked across the sea of faces, confusion mirrored in both sets of eyes.
They had felt the shudder, too.
Beneath the scented oil and chatter, beneath the trill of violins, Kaelin’s bones tinged with unease.
Talen was nowhere in sight, nor Ren, nor Lucan.
Kaelin’s sharp gaze skimmed over the gilded crowd, noting the sea of smiling masks and flushed faces, couples sneaking into alcoves, courtiers toasting beneath painted ceilings.
Too many hands touching, too many eyes glittering with secrets and mischief.
Somewhere, the traitor lingered.
A steward materialized before Kaelin, a crystal goblet of rose wine balanced on his tray. Her favorite vintage. “A glass, Your Highness?”
Kaelin’s hand didn’t so much as twitch toward it. “No, carry on.”
The steward swept to the next fae couple.
Kaelin stood still, every inch of her poise carved from marble, but her eyes raked the crowd with predatory patience. She would not be caught unaware. Not tonight.
And then, shadows thickened at the edge of the hall. When Zakhar stepped from the darkness, draped in his threadbare robes, the music did not falter. No one else seemed to see him; conversation carried on, laughter rang bright.
His wild, gray hair framed a face uncharacteristically grave. He dipped his head, his voice pitched only for her as he approached. “Your Highness. A private word, if you will.”
Kaelin moved with him into a small alcove, away from prying ears. “Speak,” she commanded.
Zakhar’s fingers twitched once before he produced a folded scrap of parchment.
“Ren Harper is gone.”
Kaelin unfolded the parchment with deliberate calm, her fingers steady though the weight of it pressed like lead in her palm. Ren’s handwriting scrawled across the page.
Kaelin,
The exchange with Talen is complete. My obligations to the crown are fulfilled. There’s nothing left to keep me here .
Don’t send anyone after me.
—Ren
“Mm,” Kaelin re-read the letter, word for word. “So, she left me a note.”
Zakhar shifted, his expression uncharacteristically sober.
“It’s disappointing. I thought perhaps…” His fingers twitched as if plucking invisible strings.
“I thought perhaps she’d chosen differently.
It happens. People break, they run, they leave behind scraps of themselves, and letters are the weakest of all things, don’t you think? ”
He faltered when Kaelin folded the note neatly back in half and lifted her gaze to his. “Tell me, Zakhar,” she said softly, “do you take me for a fool?”
Before Zakhar could answer, Kaelin seized him by the throat. She slammed him back against the stone arch, lifting him onto his toes. Zakhar sputtered, his hands clawing at her wrist, useless against the vice of her grip.
Kaelin snarled, “In what world do you imagine I’m that easy to deceive?
To think I would believe Ren would slink away and leave me a flimsy letter?
” She curled her fingers, squeezing, and Zakhar’s face reddened.
“If Ren Harper had something important to say, she would tell me herself. She has never returned my letters. Not once. So why,” Kaelin’s eyes flashed, the ice and fire of a storm, “would she start now? Unless someone forged this letter, stating it was from her.” She tilted her head.
“But that would be manipulative, and I cannot imagine why anyone would want to do that.”
Zakhar choked out a hoarse laugh, half-mad in her grip. “I-I would never! Perhaps she started now…because… everything breaks… eventually.”
Kaelin leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. “If Ren is in danger, and you knew or were somehow responsible for it…” Her nails bit into his skin, drawing a bead of blood. “Pray she’s safe because if she isn’t, I’ll gut you slow enough to make eternity feel merciful.”
Zakhar’s laugh cracked out of him, raw and ragged, shaking in her grip. It wasn’t a chuckle, wasn’t even amusement—it was wild, bubbling, the sound of someone unraveling in her palm.
Kaelin’s scowl deepened, her grip unyielding on his throat. “What,” she hissed, voice low and dangerous, “is so funny ? ”
His head lolled back, teeth flashing in a manic grin even as her nails drew beads of crimson down his neck.
His voice rasped between laughter, words jagged and trembling with glee.
“You think you’re so unbreakable, so superior, princess.
But soon—oh, so soon—it will be you who breaks.
” His eyes gleamed. “And you won’t even see it coming.
” He licked his lips. “I think I shall enjoy the sight very much. Yes, indeed.”
Kaelin gave him one final, withering glare before shoving him hard to the floor, the sound of his laughter still echoing through the corridor like a curse.
CRASH.
The sharp shatter of glass split the air, followed by a scream that ripped through the hall.
Kaelin’s head snapped toward the ballroom.
“Ah,” Zakhar crooned. “Every good feast needs a little drama. Consider this the opening act.” His eyes glittered. “Tell me, princess. Do you prefer your kingdoms whole, or in pieces?”