C H A P T E R F O R T Y – E I G H T
I want to see her light again.
C H A P T E R F O R T Y – E I G H T
Olwyn
D inner is a quiet affair.
Too quiet. The grand dining hall feels cavernous, the flickering candlelight unable to chase away the tension that lingers between us. I sit at the long table, flanked by Iolas and Altair. They watch me carefully, their eyes filled with something between concern and caution, as though I might break at any moment.
I get it.
I’m a wild card right now.
I had destroyed a classroom full of children before. What’s to stop my emotions from making me lose control again?
But I won’t. Not tonight.
I push the food around on my plate, the roast lamb and steamed vegetables tasteless on my tongue. My thoughts churn, still reeling from the revelations from the day before. Altair and Iolas haven’t said much, leaving me to sort through my shattered assumptions alone.
Altair clears his throat, breaking the silence. “How are you feeling?”
I glance up at him, his piercing gaze softening just slightly. “Overwhelmed,” I admit. “But I’ll live.”
“Good,” Iolas says, his voice lighter than the mood calls for. “You’ve been distant the last few days,” he adds, leaning back in his chair. “You’re lucky I’m such an understanding man. Anyone else would’ve taken it personally.” He winks, but there’s an undercurrent of sincerity in his gaze.
I manage a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
My heart hurts, the truth threatening to pull me under again. It’s all been too much—too much truth, too much revelation, too much betrayal. “I just need time,” I say quietly, feeling the tightness in my throat. “To process everything.”
Altair nods, his hands resting on the table, his fingers interlocking as though to steady himself. “I promise I was planning on telling you. I just wanted to get through the ball and the peace talks first before burdening you.”
“Altair, it’s fine. It’s just… a lot to take in.”
His brow furrows, his jaw tightening like he wants to say more, but he stops himself.
Instead, Iolas reaches across the table, his hand brushing against my arm, offering comfort. “Take all the time you need,” he says softly. “But don’t forget you’re not alone in this, little witch. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”
The sincerity in his voice almost undoes me. I feel my resolve start to crumble, but I can’t break down now. Not here.
Altair clears his throat again, sitting straighter. “The ball is tomorrow,” he says, shifting the subject to safer ground. His tone is measured, but there’s a note of weariness in it. “We’ll present a united front. Together.”
“Together,” I echo, the word foreign on my tongue but oddly comforting, even after everything from the past few days.
“We’ll greet the lords and ladies of Noctura first,” Altair continues, his gaze steady on me. “Then the dignitaries. And… King Casius.”
“And what exactly do you expect me to do? Smile and curtsy?”
Altair’s lips twitch, almost a smile. “No. Just hold your head high. Let them see that you’re my queen. Our queen.”
“Easier said than done,” I mutter under my breath, earning a frown from Altair and a chuckle from Iolas.
“She’ll be fine,” Iolas says, leaning back in his chair with a lazy grin. “Though I’ll be vetting every single person entering that ballroom. No exceptions. Which means, my dear queen, you’ll have my two most trusted guards escorting you to the party. Try not to give them too much trouble, hmm?”
“I don’t give trouble,” I say, scowling at him.
“Oh, I know,” he quips, smirking. “You are trouble.”
Altair rolls his eyes but doesn’t comment, instead focusing back on me. “Once you’re in the ballroom, we’ll handle the rest. I need you to trust me on this, Olwyn.”
“Trust you,” I repeat, the words tasting somewhat bitter. But I nod nonetheless.
“You’ll be fine,” Iolas interjects, his tone lighter again, though his eyes are watchful. “If you can survive me in a bad mood, you can survive anything.”
I laugh, though it’s more of a scoff, and Altair shakes his head, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. I know Iolas is just being his usual charming self to try and cheer me up, but it feels difficult to be cheery when you’ve only recently found out you murdered a room full of your classmates at a very young age. If my power was that bad then, what could it do now?
The conversation fades for a moment, replaced by the distant sound of the crackling fire and the clinking of cutlery. I glance between them, these two vampires who have somehow become the closest thing to allies I have.
Altair clears his throat, drawing my attention back to him. “There’s something else you should be prepared for.”
I arch an eyebrow, already wary. “What now?”
“Casius might ask you to dance,” he says, his tone neutral but his eyes giving nothing away.
My stomach twists, a mix of unease and indignation swirling inside me. “Dance? With him?”
“It would be polite to accept,” Altair continues, his voice calm, though I notice the slightest tension in his jaw.
“Polite?” I repeat, my tone incredulous. “You expect me to dance with the man who you’ve been fighting for over a decade—” I cut myself off, exhaling sharply. “Fine. Then maybe you should ask his partner to dance. Even the score a little.”
Altair exhales quietly. “Casius doesn’t have a partner.”
I blink, caught off guard. “Of course he doesn’t,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. “How convenient.”
Altair leans forward slightly, his voice low but steady. “This isn’t a game, Olwyn. Casius will be watching. The lords and ladies will be watching. Every move you make will be dissected and whispered about. If you refuse him, they’ll see it as a slight—a crack in our alliance.”
“I know that,” I snap, my voice sharper than I intended. I inhale deeply, trying to push down the frustration clawing at my chest. “I know how important appearances are, Altair. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“You don’t have to like it,” he replies, his gaze unwavering. “You just have to endure it.”
Iolas smirks, clearly amused by the tension crackling between us. “Look at it this way, little witch: You’ve been through worse. What’s one dance with a brooding king?”
I glare at him, but the humour in his expression disarms me just enough to loosen the knot of tension in my chest.
Altair sits back, watching me carefully, his features softening just a fraction. “You’ll handle this, Olwyn. I know you will.”
I look between them, my frustration simmering but my resolve strengthening. “Fine,” I say, crossing my arms. “But if he tries anything—anything at all—don’t blame me for what happens next.”
Altair looks at me then, his eyes softer than they were a moment ago. “You’ll be brilliant,” he says quietly. “I know it.”
“Let’s hope you’re right,” I say, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.
Iolas raises his glass, smirking. “To surviving the ball. And if not, at least it’ll be entertaining.”
Altair groans, and I can’t help but smile.
“You’re more prepared for this than you think,” Altair says. “The ball isn’t about magic or grand gestures. It’s about showing them who you are and what you stand for. That’s all.”
I swallow hard, his words weighing heavy. “And if I fail?”
“You won’t,” he says simply, his confidence unsettling.
Iolas’s grin widens. “And if you do, well, Altair’s terrible at dancing. We’ll distract everyone with that.”
Altair shoots him a glare, but I catch the faintest flicker of a smile.
The tension eases, if only slightly, and I find myself sitting a little straighter. Tomorrow will likely be terrifying, but at least I they’d be facing it with me.