Chapter 26
Awave of floral sweetness envelops me when I open the door to my rooms. I gasp as I step into what was once my receiving room, but now looks like something out of a dream.
Rows of ruby-red roses cascade over every surface, their velvety petals glowing under the flicker of golden candlelight. The walls are lined with racks of dresses, shimmering fabrics catching the light like a sea of stars.
And in the center of it all stands a table with a towering black-and-red cake, its layers dripping with glossy icing, surrounded by trays of pastries too perfect to eat.
I blink, overwhelmed, unsure if any of this is real.
Eva’s high-pitched squeal shatters the silence. “Ryker must have known you’d accept his invitation to the ball!” she exclaims, already elbow-deep in the dresses, her excitement infectious. Of course, the king has never missed an opportunity to make a grand gesture.
“Not Ryker,” comes a low, resonant voice from the side.
I spin around, my heart leaping. Kaelzar stands in the doorway to my meeting room, his broad shoulders resting against the frame, his face shadowed but unmistakably solemn.
It’s him. Not Ryker. Him.
“Happy birthday, Trouble,” he says.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. All day, I’ve quietly nursed resentment that he hadn’t acknowledged my birthday. And now… this.
A flood of emotions crashes through me. Guilt, warmth, and a sharp, aching pull of longing. He not only remembered, he planned all of this. For me.
My cheeks burn, and I drop my gaze, unable to face the weight of it. The cold, cruel man I thought I’d figured out just revealed a depth I never gave him credit for.
“When did you… How?” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.
Kaelzar pushes off the doorframe and straightens, a sharp breath escaping him like he’s releasing something heavy.
“There’s a bath ready for you,” he says, tone careful. “The oils are from Maraneethos. They’ll soothe your skin and give it a shimmer for tonight. A masseuse will arrive in two hours, followed by a hairdresser. He’s bringing nail paint too if you still want it red.”
I stare at him, utterly floored. He remembered a throwaway comment about coloring my nails, of all things. I laughed it off at the time, dismissing the idea as impossible. But he didn’t.
Is anything impossible for this man?
My gaze drifts across the room again, at the roses, the imported oils, the dresses fit for a queen. It's all so extravagant.
“How did you even get all this?” I ask slowly, my voice quieter than I intend. “Did you steal it?” Hurt someone for it? I don’t ask the last part, but I know he still hears it.
He lowers his head slightly, and I catch a flicker of disappointment that briefly crosses his face, hitting me in the gut unexpectedly. But then he lifts his eyes to mine, his expression calm and neutral.
“There’s a rock in the Shadow World called Noctenite. It forms in deep rifts where nothing lives. The core of it is hollow, and if you place something inside, it goes into stasis. No decay, no aging, no movement. Like freezing it outside of time.”
He watches my reaction before continuing.
“I can transfer shards that are big enough to preserve food, rare plants, or relics, things that need to stay untouched for a long time. Some healers use it to hold rare medicines. Archivists seal ancient scrolls in it. You could even protect a dying ember in there, and it’d never go out.
People pay good money for it in this realm. ” He exhales through his nose, quietly.
I blink, stunned by the casualness of his words as a thought creeps in, unwelcome. If a shard can hold something as fragile as a flower or as volatile as fire… what else could it hold?
Large enough, and someone could use Noctenite to preserve more than just relics. They could trap something. Or someone. Forever.
I shake off these thoughts, and return my gaze toward my beautiful room. “Thank you,” I whisper.
His brow lifts slightly, but he doesn’t say anything.
“I shouldn’t have accused you,” I add. “Asking if you stole from someone… that wasn’t fair.”
“You had a right to wonder,” he says softly. “Most people wouldn’t ask. They’d just assume.”
A beat passes. Then he turns, his gaze skimming over the rows of dresses like nothing heavy had just passed between us.
“I trust your friend will help you choose?” he says, more composed now. “You’ll look stunning in any of them. The king will be impressed.”
The king. Of course. That is who I will be spending this evening with. It’s like the invisible thread between us pulls tight, catching around my ribs, making it hard to breathe.
Suddenly, I forget about the consul, about Mael and the possible conspiracy, about all the reasons I agreed to that.
“Were you…” I hesitate, the words snagging like thorns in my throat. “Were you planning to take me to the ball yourself?”
Kaelzar stills. His shoulders square, his chin lifts. “My plan,” he says, voice low and rough, “was to make this day special for you. If spending it with him makes it such, then what I wanted doesn’t matter.”
There’s a pause, and in it, something too bitter to be selfless flickers behind his eyes.
His words wrap around my heart. He thought of every detail. Each rose, each candle, even the paint for my nails, and still, it’s Ryker who will take me.
Before I can respond, Eva suddenly launches herself at me, throwing her arms around my shoulders with an exaggerated squeal.
“Great surprise, Godbeast,” she teases, waving dramatically at the room. But her eyes flick to me, softer now. “He really went all out, huh?” She nudges me gently, then adds, “You okay?”
I nod, but it’s not convincing.
“Alright, time for the brooding boys to make themselves scarce,” Eva says with a playful flick of her fingers toward the door, shooting Kaelzar a look that’s half teasing, half appreciative.
Kaelzar nods and strides out without resistance. The door clicks softly shut behind him.
“Sheesh,” Eva mutters, planting her hands on her hips. “How long has that been going on?”
“Going on?” I echo, doing a terrible job of feigning ignorance. My cheeks give me away immediately.
Eva rolls her eyes. “Sure, play innocent.” But there’s no bite in it, just curiosity and concern tangled together.
I turn toward the racks of dresses, desperate to escape her knowing stare.
My eyes catch on one— red and black. It’s not just beautiful, it’s daring. The bodice plunges low, the swirling black patterns shimmer like smoldering embers. Its sleeves, and the skirt flows like molten lava, split high on both sides. A choker with matching details completes the look.
Somehow, I know Kaelzar chose this dress for me and placed it among the others with quiet precision, trusting that I would see it and feel exactly what he hoped I would.
Its intricate designs spiral across the fabric in patterns that mirror the shape of my whip, the weapon that has become something of a personal emblem.
And the colors, bright fiery red and black, are no coincidence. They are what I am now—blood and decay. He never treated that pairing as something shameful or tragic, only as something to claim.
So even if I will not stand beside Kaelzar during the Ball of the Bleeding Moon, wearing this dress will let me carry something of him with me, as if his understanding of me is stitched into every thread.
“This one,” I say, lifting it from the rack. Butterflies erupt in my stomach just imagining what it’ll feel like to wear it.
Eva gapes. “That doesn’t scream ‘atoning for your sins.’”
I smirk, a spark of rebellion lighting me up from the inside. “Good.”
A few hours later, I stare at my reflection, barely recognizing who looks back at me in the mirror.
The bath oils have left my skin luminous, smooth as polished marble. My hair, swept into an elegant half-updo, tumbles in cascading waves that drink in the candlelight. But it’s my hands that hold my gaze, anchoring me in this moment of quiet wonder and the flicker of dread curling beneath it.
I’ve never seen nails like these. In Calcatra, painted nails are unheard of. When the man from overseas arrived, just as Kaelzar had promised, with his satchel brimming with glass vials and strange tools, I’d been skeptical.
“This is a new invention from Maraneethos,” he said, laying out his wares like a surgeon. “Though it’s been finding its way here through… less reliable sources, as of late.”
The Kingdom of Alchemy, some call it. They test the limits of nature, creating compounds that challenge what’s possible. I’d heard the rumors of powders that burn with blue flame, inks that glow under moonlight, explosives that reduce stone to dust.
As I rummaged through his vials and trinkets, I caught a familiar faint metal scent wafting from the box, the same one I’d smelled on the old Archpriest and Mael. But when I asked the man what might smell like that, he gave me a strange look and said he wasn’t sure what I meant.
Eva watched the exchange through narrowed eyes, then gave a slow nod. She’d also caught the careless ease he forced into his gesture as he waved me off.
Later, she assured me she’d find a way to get him talking. After all, he’d all but admitted to being one of those vendors who operate in the black market beneath the bridges of Bluerush River.
According to her, she’s a loyal customer of several prominent traders there, and they’d gladly do her a favor if she asked them to help track this man down and press him for answers. It seemed a better path to the information than asking my Godbeast to use his own methods to make the man talk.
“And what is this?” I asked him of the crimson liquid he swirled in a tiny bottle, glinting like rubies.
“This hardens once applied to the nails,” he said. “Won’t chip. You could wield a sword, and it would stay flawless.” His eyes flicked to mine. “Shall we try something bold?” The spark that Kaelzar keeps fanning answered for me.
Now, as I stare at my hands, I hardly recognize them.