CHAPTER NINETEEN
A Ball of Masks and Wings
The Shadow Fae Prince’s court was made up of starlight, silvery columns, and, strangely enough, amateur murals everywhere of eyeballs or kissing couples.
The main palace hung on the edge of a mountainous cliff in the center of the Fae Forest. Sheer curtains draped between archways, and distant glimmering lights from other courts cut through the darkness.
Everything was cold, feminine, and way too large.
Em fidgeted in the yellow gown Sasha had picked out for her.
The thorns of her white rose crown poked into her scalp.
The itchy powders Polo smeared across her face were already irritating her skin and had awoken a few welted rashes along her bare collarbone.
She hugged her exposed sides and yanked at the deep V-neckline.
Apparently, to fit into the Veil of Maas, one needed as much skin and sexual tension as possible.
“Whatever you wear must be special,” the dryad had told her as they got ready for the masquerade in a powder room down the spiral stairs earlier. “And gorgeous. Nothing blue or silver or black; it’s what all the heroines wear. Or red. That’s too alluring.”
So, butter yellow it was. Along with a pale mask that had been shaped like butterfly wings, per Polo’s choice.
“At least it could’ve been a tiny bit more modest,” Em muttered, tugging at her neckline again. It hugged her boobs too tightly, enhancing just how exposed her cleavage was to the world. If Mom saw her now, she’d either cheer her on or kill her—depending on the day.
Muscular, slender, perfect Fae swept about the ballroom, talking in low whispers.
They were taller than the Wood Elves and adorned in one too many pieces of jewelry.
Complex circlets and tiaras crowned their long hair.
Some even had tails or wings folded in the creases of their royal attire.
Everyone’s eyes were practically inhuman; enchanting, gold flecked, and constantly reflecting the candlelight like they were under some sort of spell.
The Shadow Court had to be violating so many copyrights from other Great Authors and plotlines.
I just need to find a seer, then I can get the hell out of here, Em kept telling herself. She could hear Dad yelling at her to go elsewhere; breathing the same air as these Romantasy Background Characters polluted what little originality Em had left in her soul.
Nearby, Sasha giggled with a few of the winged, muscular Fae over a glass of bubbling champagne. The dryad was draped in sheer maroon, a golden peacock mask curled about her perfect features.
The others were nowhere in sight, lost in the crowds hunting for Sevren the Blood Fairy.
Despite being announced as the Chosen One to the entire ballroom when Em had entered, the Fae acted indifferent to her existence.
I guess they’re used to Main Characters crashing their balls.
Sasha shot Em a glare from over the rim of her glass that read “go play, stop brooding, and have fun.”
Gathering her pooling skirts with a sigh, Em circled the expansive chamber beneath the crystal chandeliers. She wove between the waltzing Fae and human girls, who were tripping over their feet trying to learn the gliding steps. Em’s yellow dress stuck out in the sea of dark clothes.
Still, she couldn’t find anyone who appeared vampire enough to be Sevren the Blood Fairy. How hard was it to find the one potentially original magical being in this massive masquerade ball?
A finger tapped her shoulder.
Before Em could turn, someone swept her into a traditional waltz position—one hand in hers, the other on her waist—and twirled her onto the dance floor. She staggered with a gasp, meeting a pair of aquamarine eyes.
“Gair?”
He grinned playfully beneath his fox mask. “You always owed me the first dance at Sanderson. It’s tradition, remember?
“True,” she admitted. Those glittery, cheap proms at Sanderson often resulted in a lot of hook-ups, break-ups, and drama; sometimes even becoming central moments of her classmates’ debut stories.
But Em had never experienced anything spectacular those nights.
Often, she and Gair ditched early with their other assortment of friends for the semester and stargazed along the sea cliffs.
Em let out a deep breath, scanning the crowds over his shoulders for her target. Still, nothing. Where the hell is Sevren?
“Anyone have intel on the Blood Fairy?” Em asked, fighting to stay focused and ignore how close she was to Gair. His hand cupped along her corseted waist.
“Nothing.” He shook his head, the silvery reflection of his bejeweled mask matching his scaled neck. “Most of the Fae won’t even talk to me.”
“Maybe we should try asking the Fae to dance to force conversation,” Em suggested.
“Later.” Gair flashed a pearly grin. “I’m busy dancing with my best friend.”
She rolled her eyes but allowed herself to get caught up in the music. After all, it didn’t hurt to reminisce with him. Em needed to be reminded of their relationship, of why it was so important that she stole her story back. She wasn’t just saving herself; she’d be saving her friends too.
Her skirts swished against her legs. The sway of the music, the glimmer of sparkling jewelry, and candlelight wove the atmosphere into a dreamy haze. The bodies around them blurred by Gair and Em dipped and twirled together.
She couldn’t help but smile in response to Gair’s grin. He was clearly having too much fun as he led her through the complicated, slow steps of the waltz. Especially whenever he got the chance to spin her.
“Just like when I saw you in the Glorious Musclewood Covert,” he mused.
Em’s heel snagged on her skirt train, and she staggered.
Gair’s hand on her waist tightened, keeping her upright. Her breath hitched as he pulled her close, her face warming. Around them, Fae twirled past, glaring at them for disrupting the flow throughout the ballroom.
Shit, being clumsy is cliché. Em fought to catch her breath.
“You good?” Gair raised an amused eyebrow above his mask.
“Yeah,” she blushed.
“Only you could look that pretty while tripping,” Gair chuckled.
Em’s blood chilled. She bit her lips to hold back her retort, frustration swelling through her veins.
The music ended—thank Novella—and the ballroom erupted with applause.
Gair gave her a sweeping, playful bow, then led her off the dance floor. But the solemness overtaking his masked expression was unusual. A stiffness in his strut worried her.
Is he mad at me? The fact that she worried about what he thought about her worried her more than the answer to her question. Em been grumpily accepting the fate of a dance a few minutes ago, but now that Gair had become grim, she wanted him to go back to being his usual, flirty self.
Do…do I like him? The thought sped her heart. No. Shit, Em, stop. I can’t. I must stay original. I can’t get myself tangled in the love triangle more than I am.
“You tired?” Gair asked, leaning on a nearby pillar, observing the next set of couples fill the dance floor. They awkwardly stood on the sidelines beside each other.
Doing nothing.
“No, why?” Em asked.
“You’re pretty quiet tonight for a girl who’s about to uncover a mysterious dream from her Great Author, then go to a war against Kriqir the Living,” Gair said.
“And for a girl who’s about to become the Almighty Queen of Stars, Princess of the White Rose Valley, and Heir to the Cursed-But-Once-Uncursed-Tower. ”
Over Gair’s shoulder, Roden glared at them from the balconies. A tall glass of fizzy, blue soda wavered in a tight grasp, and a tight glower crossed his face.
Em swallowed back her embarrassment, averting her gaze.
Still no damn sign of the Blood Fairy.
She met Gair’s eyes again, and suddenly, how much they sparkled. Everything was becoming warm. Too warm. Her stomach fluttered at the thought.
“It’s been quite the adventure.” Gair went on. “How did those little crazy brats at Sanderson’s School for Main Characters wind up here?”
“A shitty prophecy, that’s how,” Em grumbled.
She thought of home, the day Faylorn arrived at her front door, and when she and Gair crossed paths in the Glorious Musclewood.
She’d been so angry with her adventure at the time.
But if they could unravel her vision and reach the WALL, she was moments away from saving it all.
Maybe—just maybe—she could learn to love it.
That’s what I’m talking about!
Gair slipped his hand in hers and squeezed her fingers. She could feel the warmth of his skin engulf hers, despite her silk gloves. Em had never been more aware in that moment than how much bigger his hands were than hers.
Her blood rushed with sudden, unexplainable nervousness.
“It’s been good,” Gair whispered.
“It’s definitely been… something,” she scoffed.
“You’ve got a stray rose petal on your mask.” Gair’s free hand traced her forehead, down the side of her cheek, and to her chin—nowhere near her mask. Her skin tingled where he’d outlined. A strange calmness swept through her.
Em shut her eyes, blocking Gair’s gentle smile from her sight, lost in the hammer of her own heartbeat. Maybe it was the scenery, maybe it was the candlelight, maybe it was something in the perfume permeating the air, but Em was feeling something.
For Gair.
“Em?”
“Yeah?”
His breath became hot on her face. “Is this okay?”
He was close. Too close.
“I don’t know,” she mumbled, drowning in the numbing buzz of infatuation.
“Let’s try anyway.”
Before Em could react, Gair kissed her.