Chapter 37
thirty-seven
The Winter’s Giving Ball is a Greek Life charity event held at the president’s house before Thanksgiving break every year. I wait for Valen to pick me up at Omega house while Sora helps me dress. The ache for Naomi throbs in my chest. I miss my friend.
“There.” Sora’s thin lips press together. “That’s very nice.”
“Well, if I earned a ‘very nice’ from you, it must be spectacular,” I say, turning toward the mirror. My gown is made of thick mauve organza layers inlaid with faux pink begonias. A diamond tiara rests on my dark hair, styled in an intricate updo. I can’t help smiling at my appearance.
“Very queen-like,” Sora says as she tucks another bobby pin in my hair.
“Thank you. You look amazing.”
She narrows her eyes at her white silk off-the-shoulder gown. “You said that already.”
“I know, but—”
“Are you flirting with me?” Her face remains neutral as her dark eyes hold my gaze.
I blink rapidly. “Um…no.”
Finally, she relaxes. “That was a joke.”
“Oh.” With raised eyebrows, I let loose a tiny laugh. “That was clever…”
“He’s here! Olivia! Valen Von Dovish is here…” Hailey screams from the hallway.
As I brush past her and head toward the curved staircase, my heart skips.
I think every single one of my sisters is hanging around, trying to get a glimpse of just exactly what the mysterious Valen looks like. But they, unlike me, are disappointed. Murmurs of, “Aw, you can’t even see his face!” cling to the air.
Seeing him in a deep green tuxedo, gold ascot, and bronze full-face lion’s masquerade mask has flutters swarming my stomach.
As I approach, he holds out a bouquet of begonias (the official flower of Omega Nu Epsilon) for me, and I melt a little inside. Pressing them to my nose, I reach for his hand to squeeze it.
“No one will mistake you for anything but a Delta member,” I tell him, a hint of his smile visible beneath the mask.
“And you for my queen.” Hearing his voice, I forget masked Valen and feel transported back to the bar with Elliot. Two boyfriends in one…
After handing off the flowers to a sister, I grab my evening bag and check my cleavage for the vial I’ve tucked in there—Aiden’s contribution to the evening’s festivities. Valen’s eyes trail down to my tits, and he gives me a nod.
“Can’t even see it,” he whispers while giving my cheek a quick kiss.
He surrounds my shoulders with a faux fur wrap and takes my hand, leading us to the front door. My steps halt as he reveals his surprise. A genuine carriage awaits us, with two white horses standing in the circular drive.
“Did you do this?”
“The only ride fitting for a Monarch.”
Giddy, I bounce on my toes as he helps me climb up, then covers our laps with a heavy blanket.
It’s a short trip to the president’s house, the driveway lit up with twinkle lights guiding our way.
Grandpa Cardell always hosts extravagant Christmas parties like this, except he brings in the snow machines to make it even more spectacular.
Part of me wonders what Valen and I will do at our manor.
If they let us live.
Hosts lead us from the front door to the party, where the entry is filled with students, board members, and prominent members of the community.
Holding on to Valen’s arm, I glide into the extravagant ballroom, lights glittering against crystal chandeliers, casting fractured rainbows across the polished marble floor. Guests twirl in masks and gowns, laughter bubbling over the quiet hum of orchestral music.
When Valen taps my hand with his finger and nods across the room, my heart pounds faster, each beat echoing loudly in my ears. The president stands among a crowd, including my father.
“I’ll grab the drinks,” I whisper.
He nods subtly, eyes hidden beneath his fierce mask. “Careful…” As he turns away, he murmurs low in my ear. “I love you.”
The bartender seems rushed when I approach. I recognize him from previous university parties. He was the same one complaining about rich people the day I met Elliot. And he doesn’t appear any happier now.
“Yeah?”
Leaning gracefully against the counter, I flash him my best smile. “Hi! Could I please have a champagne?”
As if he’s preventing himself from rolling his eyes, he grabs a flute and pours the bubbly in it, then sets it in front of me expectantly. I reach into my cleavage for the cash rolled around the vial… His supposed tip.
“Oh! And can you pour me a second one, too? I’ll take it to the president.”
His eyes dart across the room, not to the group of high society people that I’d think he would check out. No. When I glance at where he’s looking, it’s toward Valen.
“Certainly,” he says, turning around momentarily to grab a fresh crystal flute and a new bottle. My pulse spikes.
Monitoring my surroundings, I pour the poison into the champagne. The liquid vanishes seamlessly into the glass while I stuff the vial back into my dress and slide the cash onto the bar top.
The bartender faces me, setting the second flute on the golden counter. As I go to pick it up, he points over my shoulder toward a commotion. Aiden’s strolling into the room, looking infuriated by something. But he confidently walks across the floor and shakes the president’s hand.
“He gonna give me more of a tip than this?” the bartender says, holding up the twenty between his fingers.
I take the flutes in my hands and shrug. “No.”
Before I can move away, a sudden eruption of laughter nearby startles me, drawing my attention. I’m on edge. Anxiety is at an all-time high, but I fake the confidence I need. Shoulders back and breathe deep.
Like a queen.
President Harvey stands apart from the crowd as he watches guests behind a sleek black mask. His gaze meets mine, coldly calculating as I step closer.
“Miss Cardell,” he greets me, voice dripping with velvet-coated menace. “You look radiant.”
“Thank you, sir.” My grin strains under tension. I lift the flute toward him. “I brought you this. Thought you might like a drink.”
His lips curl into a subtle smile. “Mr. Cardell, your daughter has been an exceptional devotee to the cause.”
“Yes, she has always been a true zealot for not just Greek Life here, but Northview University itself,” Dad answers, slyly leaving out any mention of the gods and Caliphylla.
President Harvey drops his voice and steps closer to my right shoulder, still holding his poisoned drink. “I trust things are progressing?”
My throat constricts, but I force a swallow. “Of course. It’s, um, likely going to happen tonight.”
“Good,” he murmurs. “Valen Von Dovish has become…problematic. Do your part, Olivia, and swiftly.” He nods to my father, then to me. “For both your sakes.”
Ice floods my veins at his thinly veiled threat, determination solidifying within me. Just as I raise my glass to clink it against his, someone abruptly bumps into me, sending both my drink and the president’s crashing onto the polished floor.
Furious, I whirl around, ready to snap, and freeze instantly as I stare into a masked face.
“Valen!” I gasp, panic rising. The president’s eyes widen, shock quickly replaced by barely concealed anger.
Valen seizes my elbow gently but firmly. “Apologies, Mr. President. My clumsiness, I’m afraid.”
The president stiffens, nodding curtly, eyes blazing with suspicion. “Careful, Mr. Von Dovish. Accidents are costly.”
One of the enforcers near the rear door steps forward as Valen swiftly guides me from the room, tension coiling in his body. My father’s worried gaze follows us as we head toward the exit.
Confusion and frustration roil inside me. “What the hell happened?”
He doesn’t answer immediately, pulling me away from the noise and music and into a quiet alcove by the grand staircase. His voice is tight, urgent when he has me alone. “That bartender switched the drinks. I watched him. You were seconds away from poisoning yourself.”
Shock ricochets through me, and my knees nearly buckle. I clutch his arms, suddenly weak. “But why would he—”
Valen steadies me, his voice dangerously low. “Someone else knows our plans. Tonight just got a hell of a lot more complicated.”