Chapter 10 The Invitation
The Invitation
King Altair of the Seraphs confirms he is willing to consider altering the arrangements of the betrothal between Princess Reva and Prince Draven, in exchange for the safe return of my daughter, Rune Ryker.
The Council of Archseraphs is hopeful this will present our nations with a path toward peace at long last.
—Riordan Ryker, Hand of the King
THE NEXT WEEKS PASS in a blur. Between the constant training of my mental wards, classes, and sparring, I barely notice fall creep its way into Sedah.
The volcano cools, no longer streaming an ever-flowing tide of lava, and the rivers begin to slow.
The air clears from smoke and debris, and chill breezes snake through the mountainside on autumn winds.
The days fill with colors as if doused in paint, the grassy Oval turns gold, and the trees curl in crimson, amber, and brightest orange, their bases surrounded by beds of brilliant leaves.
I wish I was less exhausted to fully appreciate it.
I sit with Ember, Kasper, and Wynter. Amaya, Morgan, and Felix are grouped into the table right beside ours, both groups chatting in the Atrium where we all eat and study.
The two-story space has a domed glass ceiling, a running fountain that wends like a river through the lower floor, and various living trees dotted down its center.
My favorite spot is upstairs where I can see the fountain in the open space below and look out on the birds who’ve nested in the trees to keep from the coming cold.
Most of the first- and second-years sit in the dining hall for meals, but we find it too stuffy.
I cram a blueberry muffin into my mouth, trying to draw on my last dregs of energy for the day as I practice summoning the World card.
It’s coming easier now, usually stalling only briefly before it rises.
I’m not sure if I’ll be able to bring my tarot deck with me into Nevaeh.
Draven confessed he doesn’t know either—if I would remain a changeling forever or become a seraph one day instead.
But I push myself to learn as much as I can just in case, especially the High Priestess, which might shield my thoughts from being an open book.
And there’s also a part of me that just hates the idea of falling behind.
So, I continue to draw, to give in to learning about my very special Arcana, one that I hate to admit I’ll be sorry to abandon should I have to leave it behind.
But despite the World’s massive potential, it needs to siphon magic from the other Arcana to truly do anything, and I still struggle to draw up a second card.
Everyone else only needs their Major Arcana card and maybe a Minor Arcana card to enhance their magic, but I need two Major Arcana cards to do anything.
Master of none, but at least I’m not limited to only one.
My attention snags on Mira in a group of other druids across the Atrium.
Her arms shake as she helps hang a large golden paper banner announcing the Autumn Equinox Ball.
The day after she murdered the changeling boy, she was taken to a post outside the refectory and whipped for all to see.
The changeling who’d attacked Draven, Ward, was flogged beside her, though given surprisingly fewer lashings.
His jaw was mended by a healer, the rest left to heal naturally.
It’s been weeks, but Mira still struggles to do basic physical tasks.
I’ve also seen Ward limping during sparring, slower than his partners now.
Amaya leans forward. “The Autumn Equinox will be your first introduction to the Sedah Court, and thus your first chances to make a good impression. Most druids have already been introduced, as families pay a tithe for such a privilege when we come of age at sixteen. Though some coming from less distinguished families may be making first impressions, too.”
“Me, for example,” Wynter says, his Judgment Arcana spinning magically on the tip of his finger. Now he’s just showing off.
“Ah, so this is the time the Court gets to make dibs, right?” Kasper barely looks up.
He’s managed to progress to not only drawing his Arcana but using it, and I note that he glances up at Ember, who looks suddenly away, cheeks rosy.
My gaze snaps back and forth between them, before I check my own mental shields.
He leans in and whispers something in her ear and she covers her mouth with her hand, giggling about something.
“These two,” Morgan mutters to the rest of us, copying Amaya’s notes.
I look around, and a curious feeling seizes my chest as I suddenly realize how much I would miss them when I go to Nevaeh.
Even sitting in this place, studying this magic.
Draven’s taunting face flashes across my vision for a moment.
I certainly will not miss all of Sedah. I keep my voice low, choosing just one of them to share the news with.
“Hey, Em. I just wanted to say …” I clear my throat.
Why is this so hard? My hands fidget in my lap.
When was the last time I had a friend? Kiana started out that way …
but we quickly became much more than that.
Two young women forced to survive horrors untold, finding light only in each other.
But with Ember, she’s like a sister. Or maybe she could’ve been if I stayed.
“At the Equinox Ball, I’m hopefully going to be sent to the seraphs. With my father.”
Ember’s emerald gaze widens. “That’s who that seraph was?
I saw him put his hand on your shoulder but …
I figured if you wanted to tell me … you would in time.
” I see her dart a quick look at Kasper and realize the group must have been speculating, but her voice stays blessedly low.
Her eyes flit between mine, as if she’s reading the vulnerability I’m trying to tamp down. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Yeah, I just … wanted someone to know. In case I didn’t return.” I can barely swallow for the optimism lining my throat like razors. Hope is more dangerous than fear. Her warm hand squeezes mine, warmth spreading through me, chasing the darkness.
“I’ll let the others know after you’re gone. But … I’ll miss you, trouble.” Her grin is dazzling enough for me to smile right back. Her eyes shine, making my own threaten to water. But the moment breaks.
“What’re you two whispering about?” Morgan demands, leaning over from the other table, his smile faltering when neither of us answers him.
“Maybe Rune’s finally confessing her little secret.” Kasper runs a hand through his platinum hair.
Wariness courses through me—what does he know?
His brow raises to prompt me, and I check my mental wards, confirming they’re still in place. When I don’t reply, he scoffs. “About your little bounty posters? You all know she was a Wraith in her home territory, right? Collecting secrets for a living.”
The rest of the table stares at me. An awkward silence descends upon our group, broken only by the reverberating sounds of others in the Atrium enjoying a meal, studying together, or walking around us.
Do immortals have Wraiths in their courts?
Do they know what it means? Draven did, but he seems well-versed in mortal affairs.
Amaya and Wynter look lost, but Felix, Morgan, and Ember all look at me more critically.
Shame unexpectedly slinks through me. My life as a Wraith forced me into choices I wish I’d never had to make.
I think of the sweet young man who fled across borders because of the blackmail I gathered, the affair that shattered a family, and the time I was caught spying on a man twice my size, leaving me with so many broken bones I couldn’t move for months.
All of it done under the Lord of Westfall’s orders.
But I’m the one who has to live with it.
And there were people I helped in secret …
but Wraiths aren’t known for the ones they spare, like that mother and her children running from an abusive lord.
She would not have made it into hiding if not for me, but a few good deeds don’t balance my scales.
Still, my jaw clenches, ready to defend myself.
Felix blurts, “That’s really cool. I worked at a bookshop, reading about adventures, but you were having them.” His grin is a fascinated, intrigued thing. “Do you have a copy of your bounty poster? I’d frame one if I had one.”
“Outlaw Felix?” Ember prompts, half laughing, and relief hits me.
Kasper sneers—this is clearly not the reaction he wanted. His arms fold so tightly they become pretzel-like.
“Oh, we can come up with a cooler name than that,” Amaya says with a grin.
“Fugitive Felix?” I suggest, and he smiles broadly, the light in those brown eyes sparkling as he opens his mouth to reply, but then Morgan loudly clears his throat. His brows crease along with his forehead, and his accusatory stare is hot as a brand.
“When were you going to mention this to any of us?”
I cringe at his tone. It wasn’t exactly anyone’s business.
“Our lives from over the Wall don’t matter, right?” I say quietly. That was the selling point anyway. “I don’t know much about any of you either.”
He frowns, his eyes searching my face as if he sees me in a new light. “We should change that.”
“You’re right, we all should.” I give the table a tight-lipped smile, some part of me wishing I could be held to it. Only Ember sees through my empty offer.
“So, Rune, I hear we’re allowed to bring a date to the ball. Are you going with anyone?” Wynter’s smile is soft as snow and melts me like sun glancing upon it.
I’m so surprised at the question I nearly tip my coffee all over my notes. I manage to get my grip back on it, only a few splashes hitting the pages, which I dab up with a napkin.
I can’t pretend I hadn’t noticed how he sometimes makes excuses to walk me to my Hearth even though it’s out of his way. Or that he always saves me a seat beside him. Morgan’s eyes flicker between me and Wynter, narrowing, before holding to me.
I reply, “No, I’m not.” Not much point when I’ll be leaving. Wynter’s lips quirk as I switch the subject. “So … are we expected to perform anything at the ball? I know we will be meeting people from Court and the different Hearths.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Felix pulls a face.
A druid girl with flawless, deep brown skin and long sweeping black braids walks past our table and Amaya leans out to her, waving. “Cleona, do you know if we need to be able to perform anything at the Equinox?”
Cleona looks around our mismatched group, her enchanting hazel eyes lingering on me a moment before she turns back to Amaya. “I really hope not, I’ve barely managed to draw the Sun once a day let alone in front of an audience.”
A speedy messenger approaches the table, likely a second-year Chariot Arcana judging by his unnatural speed and the double wand pendants pinned onto his high collar.
He lays a bouquet of black roses on the table in front of me, each petal limned with crimson.
He smiles at my confusion, then races away.
Morgan reaches forward and hands me an ebony card tied around their stems with my name on it.
I open the envelope, and my eyes immediately flick to the bottom where it’s signed Princeling. My blood heating, the expansive room turns hot and cramped as I snap the card closed. I would rather not read this in front of everyone.
Cleona nods to the roses over my shoulder. “You should ask Prince Draven—he would know.”
“I will.” I cringe to suppress my smile. Everyone looks between me and the flowers.
“What’s it say?” Ember leans over, looking at the jet-dyed paper, the golden ink gleaming.
Resignation wins, so I open it to read:
Wraith,
With the Autumn Equinox in only a week’s time I am in desperate need of a date. Luckily for me … you owe me one. I think you can guess the favor?
—Princeling
Ember leans over my shoulder, mouth agape. She grasps the card and shows it to Amaya and Kasper, the latter of whom looks supremely uninterested.
“What’s the favor he’s talking about?” Wynter asks curiously.
“Nothing. I ate his sandwich, he wasn’t impressed.
” I tuck the card away in my pocket. Draven’s invitation to the ball must be his cover for introducing me to the seraph king, nothing more.
Of course, he’s also been teaching me to block mental attacks each night, but that feels like a favor for both of us.
Mortified by the stares, I add flippantly, “He just likes to mess with me.”
I half expect to see him around some corner laughing at my flushed face.
But I don’t, of course. In fact, I’ve never seen him here.
My brows draw together as I realize I’ve not seen him outside our Hearth and the sparring gym.
Where does he go all day? I’ve seen other years, and it’s not like I haven’t caught myself looking for him.
Ember grins. “Imagine the dress you’ll get to wear going to the ball with the prince.”
“Don’t remind me.” My shoulders slump. I’m sure it’ll be something embarrassing or ridiculous. The thought of all that attention makes me want to curl inside myself like a turtle.
“Well, we may not get much say in how things run here,” Morgan growls quietly, leaning in close enough that I take in his salted caramel scent.
His gaze locks on my lips and I’m suddenly aware of my body, the way his knee leans heavily against mine, the distance of our chests as they rise and fall.
“But it doesn’t mean you have to dance with him. ”
“Yeah … you could dance with me.” Wynter’s gaze snaps up and I suppress a grin, squashing my smile, but traitorously my lips inch upward in the corners anyway. I manage a jilting little shrug and can’t help but notice a hint of darkness crossing Morgan’s face, like a shadow flitting between rooms.
But he doesn’t own me.
I tell Wynter, “I don’t see why not.”