Chapter 36 #2
Vander and I circle each other, two hands touching, then switching.
Soon, the others start to dance around us.
It’s dizzying, all this color everywhere.
There’s an emerald-green dress made up completely of gemstones.
An orange one that looks like the flames of a phoenix.
A blue dress of ice, the water flowing in waterfalls beneath a frozen layer.
Another is violet, with cap sleeves and diamonds stitched into the fabric.
The women twirl, their dresses moving with them, looking like flowers in a living bouquet.
Dancing is different with music. It’s beautiful. So very beautiful. Every part of this is like a dream.
Crystal orbs of light are strung across the room, in long glimmering strands, floating above, knotting together to create chandeliers in some places, forming constellations in others. Flecks of silver light like shredded stars float around the dancing couples, like a celestial snowfall.
Glorious. This is all beyond any of my wildest imaginations for what a Starside ball might look like.
In this room, for just a few moments, I am disconnected from the rest of the world, and all my problems. They all melt away in a mesmerizing flurry of light and magic and music.
I feel every step, every twist, every strum of the song.
I look around, memorizing everything, promising myself I’ll never forget.
For those few minutes, I’m not just surviving, I’m living. I’m enjoying. I’m smiling.
When the song ends, Vander’s expression turns serious. He pulls me in for the last move and whispers in my ear, “Now your game begins. You have your list?”
I nod. It’s all in my head.
“Good. Remember to look at the crests. Get your invitations, Aris. Your quest depends on it. I’ve done all I can, for Stellan.”
Then he’s gone. And I’m alone.
So, it begins.
The fear of not finding another partner vanishes when I immediately spin into another’s embrace.
His crest is clear on his suit. So is the blade at his hip.
Heir of House Ashcroft. They have a sprawling estate in the south, surrounded by woods. He killed four of his siblings in duels to win his sword.
There are four heirs on my list. Four houses that stand between here and the Land of the Gods.
His is one of them.
“Human,” he says, marveling at my hand. At the heat of it. His gaze lingers on my body. “I haven’t had a human in a while.”
I don’t know whether to retch or reach for my sword.
Remember your purpose, I tell myself. I’m supposed to find out what he wants.
“Perhaps we can remedy that,” I say, trying for my most flirtatious smile. I think he’ll see right through me. That he’ll read the distance I’m keeping between us more than my words, but he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. He pulls me close to him, and I swallow.
“Perhaps we can,” he says. “You’re on the Questral. You’re silver. You might survive the change to immortal, should you drink the cup.” His eyes drop to my chest. “I’d like to have you before and after … See the difference.”
Oh my gods I want to vomit, but instead I say, “Help me reach the end, then.”
His eyes glimmer. “You want an invitation to my estate, human?” He laughs. His eyes slide down my body again. “Perhaps I’m inclined to give it to you.”
That’s when I realize that he doesn’t fear me … He just wants me. He doesn’t think I’m truly capable of causing any damage … My access to his house doesn’t bother him.
Good.
“Find me at the end of the night,” he whispers into my ear, his pale hand stroking down my dress. My skin crawls.
Then I’m spun away, into another grip.
The heir to a great mine—but not a Great House. He’s polite enough, but his steps aren’t smooth, and I find myself almost losing the rhythm of the dance. When he spins me, I look around, searching for my targets.
I find one across the way. House Harlow.
His crest is recognizable—covered in stars.
I turn back to the immortal, smiling, slowly leading us in the other heir’s direction.
By the time the song ends, I spin, shamelessly cutting another woman off, landing in my target’s arms with a gasp, as if I really didn’t mean to.
If he sees through my strategy, he doesn’t show it. His smile is warm.
Unlike the other two, this immortal holds me with the gentlest touch. He’s tall and handsome. His skin is light brown. His eyes are kind.
The facts about him and his house flitter through my head. Only child. He inherited his sword. His house is protected by a goddess, given a temple built on its grounds.
“You are very beautiful,” he says, his eyes on my face instead of my body. I smile, genuinely.
“I’m very human,” I say, because my looks don’t compare to any of the immortals around me.
“Yet, here you are. With these markings … with this sword.” He gazes at my shoulder, and the blade behind it, before finding my eyes again. “I’m Magnus. What is your name?”
He’s the first to ask it of me. “Aris,” I say.
At that, his eyes light up. “An ancient name. A strong one.”
“Is it?”
He nods. “It’s fitting. Tell me, Aris. What do you seek from the quest?”
He doesn’t assume I want immortality, not like Lord Ashcroft. “I want revenge,” I say.
His face goes solemn. “Against the gods.”
I blink, shocked. “How do you know?”
His smile is sad. “Why else would you be here? Who else has caused such destruction?”
“Destruction?”
He looks around, as if the gods themselves could be among us. “In this, humans and immortals aren’t so different. The gods rule above us all, with an iron hand. They use us for their own bidding. We’ve lost many because of them.” I know. I’ve now seen proof of it.
“And you never tried to overthrow them?”
His smile grows, reaching his eyes. “Your courage is refreshing. But … perhaps misguided. Anyone who has ever tried to face the gods has been killed, along with their entire bloodline. Or … worse.” What’s worse than death?
My throat tightens. It might put more fear in me if any of my family was left.
He studies me carefully. “I can see you’re firm in your conviction.”
“I am.”
“And you’ve made it this far.”
“I have.”
In a flash of crystal, he unsheathes his sword. It’s clear and glimmering, like the ones in the Traveling City. The light is slightly different, though. More white than silver. Slowly, he kneels before me. There are gasps around the room as everyone watches. He doesn’t seem to care, or notice.
He grips the hilt of his sword in both hands, the tip scratching the floor. “You are welcome at my home any time, Aris of Stormside,” he says. “Consider this your invitation.”
I blink. My eyes don’t leave his as he rises to his full height. Clumsily, I reach for my sword … and press its metal to his. A jolt goes through it, as the invitation is given.
I sheathe it, unbelieving. I actually did it. I got at least one.
It was almost … too easy.
It’s hard for me to trust anything. Anyone. Especially an immortal heir I just met.
He must see the questioning in my look, because he says, “Any human with more courage than an immortal has a friend in me.”
He bows before stepping away. The song ends.
I’m thrown into another dance.
Seven partners. Each with various degrees of conversation. Some are kind and gentle, if not a little shy. Others try to touch me far too many places. Some aren’t heirs. Some are heirs of houses I don’t need.
I seek out the ones I do. I smile at them until they come to ask me to dance. I make my interest known. There’s no time for nerves or wariness.
I’m here for alliances. I’m here for the quest.
But—for a few more stolen seconds … I enjoy this.
The glittering fabrics. The spins, all coordinated, all perfectly executed. The music, the food, the laughter.
I love it.
It is selfish, it is foolish, but I like these sparkling things. I like this glimmering, enchanted world. This is momentary, this is not my home, but right now I revel in this experience; I drink up all of it.
I genuinely laugh at something that my partner says, before a song is over.
A bite of disappointment pricks at me, that our conversation has finished, even though he’s not one of the alliances I need.
He gently spins me away, smile still on my face, and I crash so roughly against a chest that my breath is stolen from my lungs. I fall backward.
A massive hand catches me by the front of my bodice. Callused knuckles smooth down my breasts, long fingers gripping the fabric, pulling me back up.
Right toward a devastating face that has become far too familiar. My eyes widen.
“Don’t look so disappointed, Aris,” Raker says.
He’s not in the mud-crusted armor I last saw him in. No, he’s not in armor at all. He’s in formal wear that he must have stolen. And he’s clean. He must have bathed.
My rush of surprise is smothered by anger.
I can hear the whispers. Feel the eyes on us. I can’t let anyone know that anything is wrong, or he will ruin everything. I plaster a smile on my face and let him take my hand as we blend into the movements.
The demon knows his steps. He must have been watching for a while. We circle each other, my eyes sharp as the blade on my back. His glare is cutting.
It’s like a duel. Instead of metal, our hands meet between us.
“How did you get in here?” I demand through my teeth as he spins me around. He dips me back with an ease that makes me breathless, and that’s when I see one of the guards in the corner. His head falls to the floor.
I gasp as he pulls me up, right into his chest. “You are going to ruin my plan,” I spit, worry bleeding through me. I shake my head, a lock of my hair getting in my face with the movement. “Everyone is looking at you.”
“No,” he says, his grip tightening on my waist and hand. His eyes slip down my dress, then meet mine again. “They’re not.”
They’re not.