Chapter 18 #2
“Thank you all for accepting our invitation tonight. On behalf of the Virel family and Caervast Academy, it’s an honor to welcome so many distinguished guests from across the Reach.
Representatives of the Imperial Court, the Marrow Consortium, our legacy houses, and Sero’s oldest families have joined us this evening, and we’re grateful for your continued support. ”
Applause ripples softly through the Hall of Resonance as Damaris and I step through the towering black doors into the crowd.
Security is impossible to miss. Guards in dark suits stand at every entrance and along the upper balconies, their attention sweeping constantly across the hall while guests drift between the tables beneath the gold light.
“Who’s that?” Damaris murmurs beside me.
I nearly choke when I recognize the middle-aged man standing beneath the lights.
“That’s the Imperial of Sero.”
“Excuse me?” Damaris clears his throat, sounding like he wants to turn on his heels and get the hell out of here.
He’s not wrong. On Düren, we’re terrified of our Imperial family. And judging by the way this man commands the room, he’s no different.
The sight of the Noctis waiting beneath the lights anchors me.
“Now we do what we came here for.” I force my eyes away from the Imperial and toward the stage. “I play my concert, and then we leave.”
The words come out firmer than I feel.
Beside me, Damaris studies my face, something soft and knowing flickering across his expression before he nods.
“Right.” He nudges my shoulder with his. “Concert. And if it gets too much, you give me the sign and we leave.”
At the front of the hall, the Imperial continues speaking beneath the gold-lit arches while men in dark suits drift between the tables with champagne glasses balanced elegantly between their fingers.
“Good Light,” Damaris mutters under his breath, eyes flicking around the hall. “These people look like they bury bodies for fun.”
He’s not wrong. I’ve never seen this amount of jewelry and tattoos combined, and part of me already wants to crawl beneath the nearest table rather than perform for these people.
What unsettles me most isn’t the money. It’s how comfortable they all look together, like every person in this room belongs here except us.
These are the kind of people who own entire planets like Sero and Düren while the rest of us struggle just to afford food.
“You still haven’t told me how you got invited to this thing,” I mutter.
Damaris grins beside me. “What, you think they’d host the star musician of the evening without his emotional support roommate?”
“Dama…”
He lifts both hands. “Relax. I have connections now.”
Of course he does. Half the academy seems determined to adopt him.
Damaris’s expression softens. “I think people are starting to realize we come as a package deal.”
“Well,” I mutter, “they’re probably right about that.”
Although tonight, I look like I’m one of them. Glancing down at the suit, I’m still not sure I made the right decision. The suit Ciaran gave me is cut like it was designed just for me, but it feels like a defeat that I actually chose to wear it for him.
Not for him, I correct, dragging my gaze away from the dark green fabric. For myself.
That’s right. The Noctis that stands in the middle of the stage, shiny and beautiful and waiting to be touched by me, is the only reason I came here tonight.
“Speaking of the devil,” Damaris mutters.
I turn just as Halvern starts crossing the hall toward us with a champagne glass in one hand and that polished half-smile stretched across his face.
“Rowan, good evening.” His gaze flicks toward Damaris. “You again. And you are…”
“Invited,” Damaris deadpans. “By Lucan Virel.”
Halvern’s smile flickers before his attention settles fully back on me, eyes traveling slowly over the suit. “Well.” He lifts his glass. “You certainly made an effort to dress appropriately for tonight, Rowan.”
Grinding my jaw, I give him a polite smile. “I feel honored you thought I was good enough to play.”
Beside me, Damaris snorts. “Good enough. Dude, you’re like, the best player.”
“That title has already been given to Angela Virel, I’m afraid,” Halvern retorts, gaze drifting Damaris’s way. “Stay close. I’ll let you know when it’s time to begin.”
When he turns toward the heart of the room, Damaris rolls his eyes dramatically. “Such an asshole.”
I can’t help but grin, but the grin freezes on my face the moment I catch sight of Ciaran.
He stands near the entrance to the hall dressed entirely in black, one hand tucked lazily into his pocket while the other hangs low at his side around a champagne glass. Dark ink slips out from under the sharp line of his cuff, and on a whim I imagine what it would be like to lick it off.
The memory of last night hits me so hard it’s almost embarrassing.
Safe. Safe, with his hand on my head and my chin burrowed against him.
“You coming?” Damaris asks from where he’s advanced closer to the stage. He frowns when he sees my gaze, then follows my eyes with an exaggerated, “Oh.”
Oh, indeed. The man looks like a wet dream, all dark and smooth and forbidden.
I need to move. Come on, walk.
But then one of his cousins barks out a comment and the whole group bursts out laughing and I can’t tear my gaze away. They all look like they belong here. Beside him stand an older man and woman, and I can’t help but wonder if they’re his parents.
Then Ciaran’s gaze lifts my way, and for a moment we just stare at each other. His mouth curls slowly into a smirk, and all I can think about is those lips wrapped around my cock last night.
The memory nearly makes me drop my glass.
If he’s angry that I slipped out of his bed before sunrise, he doesn’t show it. His gaze drags slowly over the suit he sent me before the smirk deepens, like he already knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“Here. Drink. You can thank me later.” Damaris slaps a glass of water into my hand and drags me to where he’s managed to find two seats by the stage. “You were staring. Like, badly.”
“Oh.” I plop into the chair, light-headed and nervous as hell, giddy because Ciaran is so close while some reckless part of me still wants him even closer.
I wonder if he’s still looking at me. If he also thinks of what he did last night.
“Imperial Nicol.” Halvern joins the Imperial at the center of the stage just as the applause finally begins to settle, inclining his head with practiced respect.
“Thank you again for honoring the Virel family and Caervast with your presence tonight. We’re deeply grateful for your continued support of both the academy and the arts here on Sero. ”
The Imperial gives a slow nod while guests and servers continue drifting through the hall with trays of champagne and food held carefully aloft.
Halvern taps against the microphone, smiling out across the crowd.
“Now then. While everyone enjoys the evening, it’s my pleasure to introduce one of Caervast’s most promising musicians.
Rowan Ashford will perform for us later this evening following our hostess, Mrs. Angela Virel, whose performance was specifically requested by Imperial Milanov Zephyranth. ”
A ripple moves through the crowd.
Near the front, a tall man with platinum hair lifts his champagne glass with an easy smile, amethyst eyes catching the light. Beside him stands a younger man who looks so much like him it’s almost unsettling. Same striking features. Same impossible coloring. Just younger.
At the front of the hall, a woman rises from her seat.
The hall quiets.