Chapter 1 #2
Everinne wasn’t na?ve, she knew very well they caught the eye of almost every male in the general vicinity.
Zoryana was striking. Tall and slender with spiral curls down to her waist and jade green eyes, she was never without male companionship.
Not to mention she had the demeanor of a goddess and attracted others to her like a summer bee to honey.
Everinne was quite the opposite. She was curvy where it mattered and wore ridiculously high heels to make up for what she lacked in height.
Apparently, her face was less than approachable.
She’d been called a bitch more often than she cared to remember, and had a lengthy list of ex-lovers, some of them whose names she could no longer recall.
She stole a glance at the timepiece on the far wall, where the dials ticked in warning. It was too early and the night was still young. If she went home now, there would be too much time to think. To dwell. To regret.
“I’m going to stay a little longer.” Everinne looked up at the ceiling once more, and a slow smile spread across her face. “The chandelier is calling my name.”
Zoryana pinned her with a look of disdain. “Everinne…”
“Zoryana…” Everinne said, mimicking her tone. “You know you want to do it with me.”
“Absolutely not,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “But I can’t leave until I make sure you don’t fall to your death.”
“As long as Veros doesn’t find out.” Everinne winked.
She hated it when he called her reckless.
Or careless. Or foolish and dangerous. But the truth was, she wasn’t any of those things.
It wasn’t as though she didn’t consider the consequences of her actions, because they ultimately crossed her mind once or twice, but she simply didn’t care.
Not really. It was incredibly difficult to pretend the world was a beautiful, wonderful place full of hopes and dreams when you knew it to be a lie.
So no, she wasn’t impulsive or stubborn. She was death-touched, and it had led her down a slippery slope of self-destruction.
At least she could admit it, even if her brother was in denial.
Everinne held up her finger. “One spin.”
Zoryana rolled her eyes. “Fine. One spin.”
Everinne pushed through the throng of bodies, smacking away hands that attempted to grab her, as she nudged her way closer to one of the curving staircases leading to the spacious balcony outlining the upper level of the Grand Cru.
She climbed the dozens of onyx stairs, ignoring the pain as the leather strap of her shoe rubbed against her ankle.
When she finally made it to the top, she gripped the railing of the balcony and stared up at the glass ceiling.
She didn’t even care that her feet ached from dancing, she didn’t care about the music that was more like a dull hum.
Up here, it was just her and the midnight sky.
She felt like she could touch the stars.
Like maybe, for a brief moment, she could be worth more than the pain she inflicted upon others.
But then her magic stirred, dark and deadly, as though it heard her silent call.
She shook the notion from her mind, and carefully shimmied over the edge of the rail. There was just enough space to stand with her toes hanging off the edge, and so long as she kept her hand firmly gripped on the railing behind her, she knew she wouldn’t fall.
The chandeliers of the Grand Cru spun slowly, twinkling and sparkling, alight with a kind of magic of their own.
All Everinne had to do was wait for one to get close enough.
Her dress wasn’t exactly the right fit to do any tricks, it was far too tight, but she would still be able to spin and twirl.
And that freedom alone made it worth every heart-pounding second.
One of the chandeliers floated closer. The crystals seemed to call to her. The curve of its gold loop was just within reach.
Everinne leaned forward, stretching out her arm. Her fingers curled around the cool gold metal, and without a second thought, she shoved off the balcony.
Exhilaration coursed through her, filling her with a tantalizing rush that caused her entire body to tingle.
She gripped the gold loop with both hands and spun, imagining she was one of those ballerinas on pointe she’d so often seen at the ballet.
Back when Veros still used to take her, of course.
Blinking the miserable thought away, Everinne focused on the crowd below her, on the gasps of shock and shouts of excitement as she twirled through the air above them.
Using all her strength, she clutched the loop with one hand and slowly released the other, unfurling her arm out to one side.
Her muscles burned and her abdomen clenched, but she’d done this a dozen times before, and all of it led to the thousands of sensations she felt when the rest of the world seemed miles away.
The music faded, the cacophony of voices drowned it out as they cheered for her. Loved her.
Everinne swung from the chandelier, whirling with it, dancing on air. The next one came into her line of sight, the crystals winked like they knew exactly what she had planned. All she had to do was get a little bit closer and then she’d leap from one to the other, in a grand finale.
A squeal sounded above the rest of the voices on the dance floor, and there was a shift in the air. The sudden commotion was no longer one of awe and wonder, but more like a fever pitch of delirium.
Her brow pinched together.
What the hell was going on?
Everinne strained over her left shoulder to see what could possibly be the cause of everyone below her losing their gods-damned minds. Between the play of shadows and glaring vibrant lights, she saw him.
Her heart dropped.
Standing in the elaborate entrance of the Grand Cru with a swell of worshippers surrounding him, was none other than Atlas Skye, the Imperial Prince of Prava.
And his piercing green eyes, the ones with swirls of gold, were focused directly on her.