42
Orion’s Ball takes place the night before the Ascension Rite, and I have not been prepared for a second of it. I’ve been to parties before—most of them taking place inside small, ramshackle homes or on the beach—but this… this is nothing like any of those.
I follow massive crowds as they weave around the back of the castle, to the sliver of enchanted forest that only exists in the Realm of Superiority.
Everyone is here. Nobility from other countries, from every continent on this Earth, gathers beneath the stars on the longest night of the year.
Stardust and magic dazzle in midnight blues and purples above great pines and gnarled oaks, the evening painting the arresting greenery in dusky shades of black.
Lanterns with flickering cerulean flames hang from the boughs of the ancient trees, bioluminescent mushrooms growing up their trunks and illuminating the pathway to a carpet of moss and strewn petals where werewolves have already begun to dance.
“There you are, girl,” Oona exclaims as I trail after an older woman who is at least seven feet tall.
Oona snags my arm and pulls me from the path and toward one of the dilapidated statues circling the clearing, a weathered stone depiction of a sinuous woman with wings carrying a bundle of wheat in her hands— Virgo , I realize.
I glance to our left and spot a fearsome lion, its cracked head thrown back in a frozen roar.
Leo. There are twelve of them, forgotten and hidden between the trees, and they seem primordial.
Ageless. But Oona leans against the woman without so much as a care, wiping her hands on her forest-green dress.
“I did your hair an eternity ago. What took you so long to come out here?”
I raise a brow as Oona fans a hand in front of her face.
A tray of bubbly wine floats by us, and she snatches one of the drinks, downing it with a loud gulp.
“I wasn’t exactly excited to come. After Evie…
” I lower my voice, trying to shake the haze of lingering confusion from my mind.
Life has returned to normal at the castle.
Evie remains popular. Sin doesn’t speak to me.
And I am once more a pariah. “People aren’t really enthused by my presence.
And—what is going on with you ?” I ask, surprised when she snags a second drink.
“You look like you’re about to keel over. ”
“I am enjoying the party ,” she says through clenched teeth.
If she were a wolf right now, her hackles would be sticking straight up.
As it is, her chest flushes, the low cut of her leafy gown exposing patches of uneven red across her pale skin.
And though the air in this realm smells sugar sweet, a breeze of licorice unease wafts from Oona.
She looks like a wild nature nymph—a wild nature nymph who is seconds from fainting.
Bubbles burst out of the glass in her hand and pop in the air, causing Oona and me both to giggle. She curses. Drinks it quickly. “Silly wine,” she mutters. “Queen Jae must’ve brought it as a gift.”
I follow her gaze to the dance floor, where a lithe Korean woman in an ebony gown dances with a man in an ivory suit.
Their ornate crowns glint beneath the lanterns, gold with amethyst stars that sparkle like the real things.
They must be Evie’s parents. I glance away quickly, and Oona continues muttering to herself.
“Alchemists. I wouldn’t eat the food either. The last time this court held a party, the lemon squares made you speak dark truths, and the sticky buns made you levitate. Shep damn near flew straight out of the forest.”
I blink at her, and Oona blows an errant curl from her face. Her eyes flick to the left and right as if she’s worried that she’s being watched. And now I know exactly by who.
“Shep?” I ask, a grin suddenly twisting my lips. I sidle closer to her, the train of my soft pink gown so at odds with the rest of the dark decor. Oona delivered it to me this morning, with a note from Sin attached.
You deserve better than red
S. S.
I blush softly now, recalling the perfect calligraphy, the golden box, and the bodice woven of sheer spider silk, cascading cherry blossom petals, and sparkling rose quartz teardrops.
He must have had an Alchemist make it in conjunction with a Weaver.
It must have been expensive. I run a hand along the feather-soft fabric, forcing myself back into the present. With Oona.
Oona who nearly crouches behind the statue now. “Oh, never you mind,” she says with a scoff. I laugh, and I don’t know whether it’s from those magical bubbles in the air, or because she looks like a toad.
“You can’t be hiding from Instructor Shepherd,” I say.
“Don’t say his name ,” she hisses. Her gaze darts toward the line of trees. “Absolutely ridiculous. I am… I am merely enjoying myself on my one free night.”
The maids have all been invited, since magic alone seems to conduct the ball, including a quartet of instruments in the corner—a pianoforte, a harpsichord, and two others I’ve never seen that appear to be enchanted variations of flutes.
“Oh, good. Then you won’t mind that he’s coming over here.”
Oona leaps to her feet, and her curls whip me in the face. “What?”
“Kidding.” I wave a hand to the dance floor filled with my classmates, their parents, the nobility of other territories. Instructor Shepherd is nowhere in sight. Sin, however… He currently dances with Portia. He spins her in a graceful circle, and her pastel-blue skirts flutter around them.
He’s beautiful tonight.
Strong, tall, handsome as ever, with a crown of black resting on his golden hair, he looks more like a prince than he ever has before. My heart aches watching him. He catches my eye then, and he frowns. Only for a moment. Only for enough time that I know he feels the same as me.
I love him. I can’t have him.
And everything we were working toward together—it’s imploded. I ruined it the second I stormed into the throne room and accused the queen of murdering a girl who strolled back into the castle the very next day, healthier than ever. I ruined everything.
My stomach churns. I turn back to Oona, and she watches me with narrowed eyes. “Very funny.” She crosses her arms and huffs, avoiding a bone-white plate of cherry tartlets as they pass. I follow her instructions and don’t pick one up, even though they smell absolutely divine.
“They’re an aphrodisiac,” she says simply.
“Oh.”
We both scowl.
The merriment around us swells when Queen Sybil takes to the mossy dance floor with Lord Allard.
The other revelers give her space. Aside from Evie’s parents—Queen Jae and King Zhiyu—who almost seem to dance closer to her.
They exchange whispered words no one else can hear.
Queen Sybil appears unsettled by them, though she raises her chin regardless and continues to waltz.
“You should go,” I say softly, watching it unfold. “You have a night off; you should dance.”
“I don’t dance.”
“Oona, your feet are moving to the rhythm.”
She glances down, and sure enough, she can’t stop swaying. Her scowl deepens. “If you must know, Shep—Instructor Shepherd —asked me, but…”
I finally notice him, standing on the other side of the dance floor and leaning against a rather whimsical statue of a mer-goat.
His yellow eyes darken, his hand cupping a goblet so firmly, the handle snaps off.
He jolts in surprise when it falls to the floor, then quickly kicks it behind him.
I smile again. He is a gargantuan man, seven feet of adamantine muscles, with an expression that could turn anyone to stone—and he is clearly incredibly besotted with Oona.
“But you’d rather be miserable?” I ask her. “You’d rather stand here with the outcast and make small talk about magical desserts?”
She glares at me. “You know very well that you are my friend, and I care nothing for the gossip of this court.”
“And Shep?” I ask.
“Shep…” She huffs and quiets her voice so that he won’t be able to hear it. “He’s the son of the Duchess of the United States and an instructor to future werewolf royalty. I am a former criminal working in the Wolf Queen’s Court. It would never work between us.”
I glance at Sin. He’s moved on from twirling Portia round and round to twirling Myles. They laugh together, and it sounds sparkling. I miss him. So much it hurts.
“What if it could?” I whisper.
Sin looks at me again, and desire blazes in his eyes. I turn back to Oona. She shrugs sadly. “He shouldn’t like me. It’s rather reprehensible of him, don’t you think? A stain on his character.”
“Oona, you are my favorite person in this court. He should be so lucky to dance with you.”
She gazes at me with watering eyes, and the emotion is so swift—so palpable—that I stumble. Her hand brushes mine. “You deserve the world, Vanessa. Everything… everything will be better soon. I promise.”
“Thanks, Oona.” I nudge her with my foot, a severe sort of adoration caught in my throat.
I wouldn’t have survived here without her.
Not even for a day. I hope she knows that.
I hope she knows how much she means to me.
But I can’t say all that at this ball, in front of a hundred werewolves.
So, instead, I say, “You deserve to be happy. If Shep wants you, and you want him—”
“We kissed,” she blurts out, and then squeals when she looks back across the dance floor and notices that Instructor Shepherd is gone.
“Oona,” a deep voice says behind us. I stick my tongue out at her before we turn, although I probably should’ve taken her arm. It appears she might actually faint.
Instructor Shepherd stands between the trees, extending a hand toward her. His usual stern tone is replaced by a softer one. A loving one. “Can you… Could I possibly… That is, would you do me the honor —”