Chapter Twelve
ARES
K yra walks out of the sorority house, across the small porch, down the brick steps and looks around. I wait until she’s walking toward the sidewalk before I step out of the shadow. She freezes for a moment, taking me in, then resumes walking toward me.
She looks stunning in her dress, just like I knew she would. There’s a theme for the night, there always is at these things. She doesn’t know it yet. I knew she was nervous, so I helped her along. When I heard they were going to invite her, I thought it was a joke. I genuinely thought they were pulling a joke on me because they know she’s my stepsister.
When she showed me the message she’d received, I realized the truth. I was always meant to be her connection, her mentor. My plan had originally been one of revenge. I thought I could get payback for her being such a spoiled brat growing up—at least, that’s who I thought she was.
It never occurred to me how much of it was in my own damn head, gnawing at me. For years, I’d held onto this picture of her. Spoiled princess with everything handed to her. The girl who floated through life with an effortless smile. But the truth… she wasn’t a brat. Not in the way I wanted to believe.
The experiences and memories I resented her for, the ones that made my gut twist when I thought of her… it was all a tangled lie in my head. It’s what I thought happened. I thought she was the kind of girl who couldn’t keep a secret, the type who could let things slip just to see me get in trouble.
I was so fucking wrong.
I was supposed to get my revenge; she was my villain—my nemesis. Or so I thought. I’d spent all this time building up this version of her in my head. Now, as I see her approaching me, it’s not revenge I seek.
All I see is her. I want her. When she showed up this morning, I knew it was meant to happen. This thing between us. Nothing and nobody is going to stay in my way. Kyra is mine.
“What’s with the mask?” She stops in front of me.
I lean in close to whisper. “There’s always a theme.” I pull out the green and gold lace mask from my pocket and hold it out for her.
Her mask is a similar style to my plain black one. I wanted something that fit well with mine, but also went with the dress I picked out for her.
“What would I do if you weren’t here to help me?” She takes the mask and puts it up to her eyes before turning around. “Will you tie it?”
I step closer and reach out to carefully tie it in place. I take my time and breathe her in. “I was always going to be the one.” I clear my throat.
Kyra spins around and looks up at me. “What do you mean?’
I hold my arm out for her to take. “It’s time to go.”
We walk in silence down Greek Row, across the courtyard, and toward the forest. There’s an old historic building out here that is mostly used for storage. Mostly.
There are a handful of others waiting near the door as we approach. A man in a mask is at the door letting people in, two at a time. Everyone is paired up in a way I’m sure Kyra notices. If not, she’ll realize as soon as we’re below ground with the others.
When it’s our turn to approach, the man in the red mask and red suit looks us over. “My lyre must always play,” he mutters.
“For without music—” I start.
“We are nothing,” Kyra interrupts softly. I can tell she’s nervous, unsure if she should’ve stayed silent.
She tucks herself more into my side as he smiles and steps aside for us to enter. Once we enter the dark room, I lead us down a hall and toward an elevator. We step in and travel down alone.
“I was watching some clips on Greek mythology recently, this show from the nineties.” She swallows.
“You did good.” I lean closer to her, knowing we only have a few more seconds alone. “You could’ve stayed silent or attempted to answer. There wasn’t a wrong answer at the door. Be yourself, but remember I’ve got you.” I dip my head down and wait for her to acknowledge I’ve said anything.
She nods.
I take a step back beside her as the elevator doors open to an underground level. Music is playing across hidden speakers as we step out of the elevator. I lead her into the room where dozens of people gather. A few dance, some linger on a balcony above, and some laugh along the wall as they chat freely.
Everyone is in formal wear with elaborate masks. The tables are decorated in dark green cloth with gold flickering tea lights and fairy lights. The council members are mostly on the balcony, They wear the most elaborate masks and some have additional horns and headpieces on their heads. It’s easy to spot out the potential members, nervous and clinging to their mentors.
It puts a smile on my face knowing Kyra will be by my side the entire night. The purpose of this first event is to weed out those they deem worthy out of the potentials. Every existing member has a say so, but it is ultimately up to the council. I’m not worried about Kyra, though. Getting to know her more over the last two weeks has shown me exactly the kind of person she is.
Figures in hooded cloaks walk through the crowd with trays of drinks. A tray presents itself in front of every potential member with a selection of drinks. The first test.
“Pick your poison of the underworld.” It comes out slightly muffled because of the hooded cloak and mask.
I look at Kyra; I expect her to pick the pink one. It’s her favorite color after all. But she picks the orange.
Every color of the rainbow and she picks orange. I swallow. It’s not wrong. There’s honestly not a wrong answer. It’s all about seeing what they would choose.
“Did I do okay?” she whispers next to me.
“We’ll see.”
I move my hand to her lower back, my fingers brushing across her bare skin as I lead her to another area. She occasionally looks at her drink, as if debating if she should drink it or not. It’s like she knows everything is a test.
Everything from if you choose to come, what you wear, who you arrive with, to who you interact with and the choices you make while you’re at the party to the time you choose to leave.
The council, the eleven members up at the balcony often decide who of the potentials will become members before the party is even over. Some are escorted out, some are given too much to drink and safely deposited into their rooms.
Kyra decides not to drink the orange liquid, and sits the glass down on a table. “Should we dance?” She turns to face me.
“If you want to,” I answer. Honestly, I’d love any excuse to have her in my arms.
She hesitates for a moment before taking my hand. We walk up to the dance floor just as the music switches. A waltz plays over the speaker. I see her sigh in relief.
I pull her into my arms, and we begin. “Did you ever wonder why all our parents made us take dance lessons as teens? A weird mix of ballroom dances that aren’t common anymore.”
“Truth be told, I thought it was a society thing. There were always events to go to. I assumed it was so we would know different dances if the opportunity came up.” She smiles up at me. “This is an opportunity.”
A commotion starts up nearby, but we keep dancing. Her eyes flicker over to the group getting into an argument. I can tell she’s wondering what will happen if it escalates; they often do.
“What’s with the elaborate masks? Secrecy?” Her eyes search mine, looking for a distraction.
I nod. “You might recognize some, especially if you knew them well enough before tonight. Those that don’t make it will be left wondering the rest of their lives. The true question is how old is it and how many members have there been.”
Her eyes narrow. I can see the moment something clicks into place in her beautiful head. Those gray blue eyes widen. We dance two more songs before she mentions being thirsty.
We walk over to the water. She eyes the clear liquid before smelling it and then taking a sip. I hold back my laugh as she finally drinks more of it. I’ve never been a mentor for the Orphic Order. Most only mentor once. My mentor was an older family friend who rarely comes to these parties anymore.
I drink some water myself, then we continue to walk around. Kyra is more reserved than normal, taking it all in. A couple of card games have started at tables, the dancing is ongoing, food is coming out to help everyone prepare for the midnight hour.
Then the fun begins.
“Attention everyone.” One of the men on the balcony shouts. The music softens, allowing him to continue. “Thank you, everyone for attending. You may let yourselves out.”
There are whispers around us. The potentials are questioning if it’s really over, some saying they’re bored and ready to leave. Some start to leave while others hesitate.
I turn to face Kyra. “Where to now?”
Her eyes dart across the room, flickering about and taking in different interactions. I can see her questioning why some people are leaving when others don’t look like they’ll be leaving anytime soon. “We stay.” It comes out more like a question as her eyes move to search mine.
I lean in close to her ear. “Are you up for an adventure?”
She turns to look at me. “Yes,” she responds without hesitation.
I smirk and hold out my hand.