Chapter 28 #2
He pushed through the crowd, jostling several people aside and ignoring their indignant protests and sharp gasps of offense.
“Calista,” he called out.
She turned. For just an instant, emotion flashed across her face—was it fear? Relief? Desperation? But then Argoth’s hand tightened on hers, and her expression smoothed into something blank and unreadable.
“Lorien.” Her voice was measured. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Can we talk? Privately?”
She averted her eyes. “I have nothing to talk about with you, I’m afraid.”
Lorien’s magic was starting to glow beneath his skin, his control slipping. “Calista. Just one moment. That’s all I ask.”
Calista glanced at Argoth, almost as if seeking permission. He studied her for a long beat, then released her hand with deliberate slowness.
“Just for a moment, then,” he said pleasantly. “No more. We have guests to attend to.”
She led Lorien to a balcony overlooking the gardens. The moment they were alone, he grabbed her arms and spun her around to face him.
“What are you doing here with that dangerous man?” He reached for her hand, lifting it—and the black diamond ring adorning it—up between them. “And wearing this, no less?”
Her voice was cold as she pulled out of his grasp and clenched her hands into fists at her sides. “I’ve made a choice, Lorien. You need to respect that.”
“I can’t. I won’t.” He moved closer, lowering his voice. “Something’s wrong. You’re not acting like yourself. Are they threatening you? Using magic on you? Just tell me what’s happening.”
“Nothing’s happening except that I’m choosing my own future.” Her voice was fierce, but I could hear the brittleness underneath. The fear edging in.
“What about our plans?”
“The ones you would have abandoned the second you got what you wanted from me, you mean?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know about your dealings with the Order. They’ve told me everything. All the compromises you’ve made, the counsel you took from them, the—”
“They lied. Can’t you see? All of this—” he gestured to the glittering palace “—is a lie.”
She stared at him, her expression hard. Shaking her head with a bitter little laugh, she whispered, “How can you sound so certain, even now?”
“Because I know what to believe in.” He closed some of the distance between them. “You and I are the only truth in this mad world.”
For a moment, her mask cracked. Her eyes burned with emotion, her lips trembling. She opened her mouth as if to say something.
Lorien cupped her face in his hand.
Then Argoth appeared in the doorway.
“Time’s up, I’m afraid,” he said, speaking just as pleasantly as before. But there was unmistakable steel beneath the courtesy. He moved to Calista’s side, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Lady Calista has other guests to greet.”
Calista’s face went blank again, the moment of vulnerability vanishing. She let Argoth guide her back toward the ballroom, glancing over her shoulder only long enough to mouth two final words.
Goodbye, Lorien.
I felt something shatter in Lorien’s chest—felt the pain of it echoing through the sudden darkness that settled over the vision, a torment that clenched my own heart and lungs and made it hard to breathe.
Magic surged violently through him, light exploding outward in waves.
There was a call for guards. The balcony shook beneath the force of his power.
The storm of his grief and rage tore through the gathered nobility like a physical wind—and it seemed to destabilize the vision itself, too, causing the images to shatter and scatter.
I blinked back to the present and nearly let out a scream.
A ghostly apparition of Lorien stood in front of my balcony doors, silently watching me.
He said nothing, only pointed down at the shard lying on the floor beside Grimnor. The fractures that had appeared on its surface were gone; somehow, it was still in one piece.
I picked it up.
It was cold again. Lifeless. But the vision it had shown me still burned behind my eyes.
Heart racing, I tried to reconcile this latest vision with all the ones before it. With all the different versions of Lorien I now had swirling through my mind—the idealistic young man, the trapped demigod, the betrayed lover, the bitter architect of his own destruction…
A knock at the door jerked my gaze toward it.
When I looked back, Lorien was gone.
I still found myself quietly asking my questions out loud, as if he were actually there to puzzle them out with me. “Do you think it was true?” I asked. “Whatever was written in the letter? Do you think she truly chose Argoth? Or was she manipulated into it?”
Another knock. “Lady Nova?”
Aveline.
The sound of her kind yet firm voice helped settle my nerves and ground me more fully back in the present.
“Come in,” I called, hoarsely.
She swept inside with two servants in tow.
They carried a dress of rippling midnight silk, along with what looked like the rest of my coronation regalia—a cloak of deep charcoal grey lined with silver, intricate pieces of jewelry, and countless other accessories I couldn’t quite focus on, given what had just happened in this room.
“Time for your final fitting before the ceremony,” Aveline announced with gentle authority.
I wasn’t exactly in the mood to stand still and be fussed over, but I didn’t complain as they carefully removed my clothing and began draping the gown over me.
The dress itself was breathtaking—fashioned from layers of silk that appeared black until I moved, at which point shades of slate grey and deep purple peeked through, like shadows dancing within shadows.
The bodice was fitted, embroidered with dark silver thread that revealed branch-like patterns when the light hit it just so.
More delicate embroidery decorated the floor-length hem, forming silvered images of moths and nightshade flowers.
The shoulder line was finished with a subtle ombré effect, making the fabric seemingly dissolve into wisps of translucent black organza, like smoke curling off my shoulders.
Or shadows; it would blend well with any I happened to summon.
“Arms up, please,” one of the servants mumbled around a mouth full of pins.
I obeyed, standing numbly upon the stool while they worked to make minor adjustments to the hem and the way the layers fell. They pinned and tucked, debated the length of a certain panel, tested how the fabric moved when I turned.
I tried to pay attention to their whispered consultations and suggestions, to keep my eyes on my reflection in the trifold mirror set up before me. But my gaze kept sliding toward Grimnor, to the shard, and to the place where Lorien had been standing only minutes ago…
Had I imagined him?
No.
I was certain I hadn’t. Somehow, he’d momentarily broken through—pulled himself partially into this room using.
..what? Were we truly so connected? Had I made a mistake, asking for his help?
Dread coiled in my stomach. It somehow felt like I’d officially reached a point of no return with him, with all of this.
“My lady?”
I was suddenly aware of a hand on my arm. I gave my head a little shake, forcing myself to refocus. Aveline’s eyes were shining with emotion when I finally met her gaze.
I managed a small smile. “Well? How do I look?”
She stepped back, gesturing for the servants to do the same so I could see the full effect in the mirror.
The dress had transformed me into something otherworldly—something I didn’t quite recognize at first. The dark silk made my pale skin seem to glow.
My raven hair, which one of the servants had quickly pinned up to check the neckline, framed my face in a way that emphasized my features—the sharp line of my jaw, the intensity of my eyes, the set of my shoulders that spoke of a strength that I hadn’t possessed just months ago.
“You look like a queen,” Aveline said softly.
I looked at my reflection again, closer this time.
Everything else faded into the background as I inhaled deeply, watching the way the movement made the dress shimmer.
With my exhale came faint shadows, curling across my collarbones and down my bare arms. As expected, they looked like they could have been an extension of the dress itself—exactly as I’d hoped for when Aveline and I had planned this design.
A dress fit for a queen who walked comfortably alongside darkness and death.
Staring into my reflection’s eyes, unflinching, I realized I truly didn’t fear those things any longer. Because I’d learned to carry my shadows—to wear them like armor and wield them as weapons rather than hiding them away.
And now, I would use them to survive whatever came next.