Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
T he Celestial Cascade Ball was Elithian’s most hallowed winter tradition honoring Umbra, god of the night and stars. For novices, it was one final night of celebration before their concluding trials. For Alaire, it had always been a distant display of power and glamour.
Until tonight.
Kaia had warned her that each house would show off their prized fliers to the Consortium. But Alaire knew that, as the last of her line, her every move would be scrutinized, watched, and judged.
Flying in a dress was next to impossible. Whoever claimed otherwise was lying. She wrapped her skirts tight around her legs, but the wind still tore at her cloak as she clung to Solflara’s braid.
Cold air bit at her cheeks. Above, the last blaze of sunset bled into the horizon, a smear of fire. The only sound for miles was the rhythmic cadence of celestials flying in tight formation, Headmaster Carth at the lead on a grey-and-white speckled griffin.
Her grip on Solflara’s braid tightened, knuckles pale. Nerves slithered through her as her mind turned over the same puzzle pieces again and again: the bloodravagers, the symbols in the garden, Kaia’s attack, the files. None fit, no matter how hard she tried to force them.
What if I missed something crucial?
The weight of every decision she’d made since arriving pressed down on her. Doubt crept in, insidious and relentless. She couldn’t shake the fear she’d fail to assemble those pieces in time. The only certainty was that a larger game was at play.
Headmaster Carth raised a fist, pulling her back to the present, signaling the descent. The celestials shifted in a fluid arc toward the world below.
The sight beneath made her stomach drop: luminescent flowers, enchanted lanterns floating in midair, strings of twinkling lights winking in the night, and a sea of people weaving across the balcony outside the manor in a living tapestry of color.
Solflara’s descent was graceful, sparks trailing from her tail—never one to tone down the dramatics. The more who adored her, the better.
“ Do not do any loops . The last thing we need is me flashing Elithian’s nobility .”
“ Wouldn’t dream of it ,” Solflara quipped, though Alaire could hear the laughter she was holding back.
“ Sure , you wouldn’t .”
Not to be outdone, Hadrian split the sky with a bolt of lightning. Oohs and ahs erupted from the crowd.
Alaire dismounted in a fluid motion.
Kaia threw off her cloak, revealing a striking stormy-blue dress threaded with silver that sparkled like lightning.
It hugged every curve before cascading into a train that fluttered as if caught by a breath of wind.
Her curls were slicked back into a bun, highlighting her flawless, heart-shaped face.
Alaire tightened her cloak around herself, scanning the crowd.
“ Looking for someone ?” Solflara crooned.
“ Not at all .”
“ Still firmly in the delusional phase of denial , I see .”
Kaia’s almond eyes narrowed at Alaire’s still-covered form, one brow arched in challenge. They’d dismounted on a field outside the gardens, just below the grand balcony.
Her hand hovered over the clasp—until a familiar beak snapped it open. The rich fabric slid from her shoulders, revealing her gown. Solflara nudged her forward with the rounded edge of a talon.
The gown was a masterpiece Kaia had commissioned: deep, fiery red silk clung to her form like a second skin, shimmering with each movement as though she radiated firelight from within. A plunging neckline emphasized her lithe figure.
“You’re a queen now,” Kaia had said, hands on her hips. “Time to look like it.”
Queen . The word still didn’t feel real.
Her fingers brushed the high slit, checking the twin daggers hidden beneath the gold lining. Dawson had insisted she always keep them with her: Promise me, Alaire, turquoise eyes burning into hers.
Where was he tonight?
Feathered earrings swayed as she moved, rubies catching the lamplight. Kaia had woven her hair into an intricate braid cascading down her back, flame-shaped pins threaded throughout. Loosened strands framed her face.
But what had arrived at her door hours earlier was what truly transformed her.
A sharp knock had interrupted her thoughts.
On the threshold was a midnight plush box. She’d peered down both ends of the hallway—empty.
Her pulse stuttered. Was this a trap?
The same familiar pull in her chest—the one that had drawn her to Solflara—flared.
But when Kaia and Archer tested it with magic, the object seemed ordinary. There was no way to be sure. Alaire assumed it was a gift from the Consortium, an offering to cement their “deal.”
Inside, nestled in dark velvet, was a gold diadem that stole her breath.
Golden flames erupted from the band in razor-sharp spikes, feather fronds braided at the base.
At its center, the tallest spike towered above the rest, woven with rubies and topaz that sparkled like embers.
A statement of who she was and where she came from.
But it was the matching ring beside it that made her world tilt.
A plain gold band set with a solitaire oval ruby.
Identical to her mother’s. The one from her memories. It had to be.
But how? Hadn’t it been lost during Starfall? Her mind spun, but she pushed the questions aside, clutching this piece of her mother she’d never thought she’d hold again.
Her hands trembled as she slid on the ring—a perfect fit. For a split second, something in her gut vibrated. She could’ve sworn a spark flickered at the stone’s center.
The pull in her chest eased.
She lifted the diadem and set it on her head, just as she had as a child, and it settled as though it had always belonged there.
From ashes to flames.
Now she touched the crown, feeling its weight. The ruby ring gleamed on her middle finger, a symbol of her lineage. She couldn’t resist that familiar gut pull to keep both items close.
Tonight, she would evoke the living, breathing power of her phoenix. Tonight, she would play their game—though what they didn’t know was the entire chessboard belonged to her.
Kaia hooked her arm through Alaire’s as they headed toward the ball. Archer, impeccable in a velour evergreen suit, fell into step beside them.
“Bold choice,” he said, eyeing her gown.
“All Kaia’s vision. I was the rag doll stabbed several times with pins,” she replied. “But even I can admit I’ve never worn anything so beautiful.”
“You’re welcome.” Kaia preened. “You needed an outfit fit for the queen you are. I couldn’t possibly allow you to wear any ordinary dress to a ball .”
“Something ordinary would’ve been just fine.”
“Fine doesn’t befit a queen,” Archer agreed.
“Stars above,” Kaia whispered as they approached. “They’ve outdone themselves.”
The air was crisp, filled with pine and the sweet perfume of night-blooming flowers. Grass transformed into a flagstone path leading to the manor’s main entrance.
Fae shimmered in outfits that embodied the night sky—some sparkling like stars, others refracting darkness. It was beyond anything Alaire had ever seen.
She smirked. “Outdone themselves or outspent themselves? All this finery—while beautiful—feels like excess.”
Opulence dripped from them in jewels of sapphire, emerald, ruby, topaz, amethyst—and those were only the stones she recognized. Their laughter and conversation blended with the soft strains of music drifting through the night.
Archer’s sleeve brushed her bare arm. “Leave it to you to find cynicism on a night like this.”
“It’s a gift.”
“A gift you’d be wise to tuck away,” Archer warned. “Lest you’d prefer this to be the final ball you attend.”
“Yes, sir.” Alaire unwound her arm from Kaia’s to give him a mocking salute.
Inside, the ballroom was encased entirely in glass, offering an unbroken view of the stars. The mosaic of constellations needed no other décor—Umbra’s true masterpiece.
A cascading ebony staircase led to the revelry below.
Alaire drew a breath. Tonight had a purpose, and none of it could be accomplished if her entrance went unnoticed.
“Here goes nothing.” She rolled back her shoulders, spine straightening.
Kaia and Archer flanked her. “We’re coming with you,” Kaia said.
Alaire opened her mouth to argue, but Kaia’s scowl silenced her.
“Together,” Kaia insisted.
“Together,” Archer and Alaire echoed.
Bracketed by her friends, Alaire descended with regal grace, each step deliberate.
The earlier hum of celebration seemed to wane at her entrance.
She felt the eyes that followed her, noted the pauses. Some lingered on her rounded ears. Word had no doubt spread: the heir to the Vallorian throne was not wholly fae.
Kaia and Archer guided her through introductions, nodding and exchanging pleasantries. Most regarded her with curiosity; some with disdain. Integrating into Elithian’s elite was paramount, and this was her debut.
Eventually, murmurs resumed.
Her dress swished across the floor as she greeted guests, committing names and titles to memory, mind whirring with assessments.
In the background, glass clinked, laughter flared, and the tightness in her shoulders began to ease.
Across the room, Professor Ross stood near the wall, champagne flute in hand, eyes fixed on her. When their gazes met, he raised his glass. Watching.
She turned her back. Alaire had no time for his games. Tonight, she needed information—and Dexter Vale was first on her list.
She spotted him across the room, holding court, conversation animated.
Archer’s grip found her arm. Following her line of sight, he whispered, “Vale’s speaking with nobles of House Aetheris. That cluster controls most of Cielore’s power.”
Of course. Dexter leeching status from anyone he could.
Archer drew Kaia into small talk while Alaire’s gaze stayed locked on her target.
It still baffled her how so few commanded so much. Dexter stood tall in a black satin suit, eyes gleaming with cunning. His posture was relaxed, but every gesture radiated calculated control.
In his dreams .