Chapter 86 Taera
Taera
One hour later, Sasha arrives at the door.
He’s clad in black leather, from combat boots up to his black hair, which is brushed back to reveal a cutting jawline.
I grin at him, and then smile even wider when Omi sees him and their cheeks color.
Sasha smiles at me and my dress, which is as much of a greeting as he’s ever given me, before he offers Omi his arm.
When Omi accepts, the result is startling.
Their robes fall away into a sharp suit of midnight blue that fits like it was made for them.
It was made for them. A matching mask curls up into a pair of horns around their eyes.
I stare, wondering for a moment whether I might be attracted to the now masculine cut of Omi myself.
Not that their expression toward Sasha leaves any room for doubt as to where their interests lie.
“Can we go now?” Annie flicks her hands and blue feathers ripple down her arms, overtaking her robes and falling down her body—as well as rippling up her neck—until her arms themselves have become sleek, delicate wings.
Her feathered mask extends a hand-span out on both sides of her face, emphasizing her fierce, avian attire.
I grin. If Jezebel’s a cat, then Annie’s the hawk about to swoop out of the sky and pluck up my least-favorite source.
The four of us look ready to dine with gods.
It occurs to me that Annie’s alone, like I am. “You don’t have a date?”
“I could never settle for just one.” She winks at me. “You’ll be my first.”
I flush despite myself.
Annie leads the way with a regal strut. The Halls respond, guiding us in the right direction with a trail of twinkling lights down otherwise darkened corridors, until I can hear the swells of a rich waltz.
I see the orchestra first: glass instruments playing themselves in a floating carousel beneath the tremendous chandelier, throwing light off the moving bows and shimmering strings. The full ballroom comes into view at the bottom of the staircase, and I gasp.
“These doors open once a year,” Annie says, spreading her wings as she steps inside.
Marble stairs curve down in both directions into the kaleidoscope of spinning dancers.
Princes and fairies inhabit the dance floor, with costumes and masks made of everything from water to writhing snakes.
Every costume dares the next to be more impossible.
Everyone is dressed like their life depends on it.
I’m halfway down the stairs when I spot Nikolai.
He stands in the heart of the ballroom—clad in fire, his cloak a blaze that illuminates a circle around him.
His mask flickers white-hot, matching the bright flames licking from the end of his curls.
He’s blinding, a sun blazing too hot—out of control—going to burn itself out.
And he’s dancing with Jezebel.
Her breasts alone appear to be holding up the most exorbitant gown I’ve ever seen. It’s pure gold, glittering with more precious stones than I can name—more gemstone than fabric. Many of them sparkle green, matching Nikolai’s eyes and making my jaw clench.
I yank my gaze away, and it’s immediately pulled in a dozen directions by more colors than I knew existed. The costumes are dizzying, utterly overwhelming—all except for the sleek simplicity of my dress.
Annie is a genius.
I feel when Nikolai’s eyes land on me, but I don’t return his gaze.
A girl made of sand twirls past, the embodiment of a desert storm.
Behind her, a man that would otherwise be handsome roars, revealing that the left half of his face is that of a lion.
Four translucent magicians waltz horizontally, each stepping on the legs of another in a twisted, confusing square. I quickly step out of the way.
“May I have this dance?” A magician I’ve never seen before holds out a gloved hand. He’s exceptionally handsome, in a rose-petal-pink suit, with bright blue hair that matches his smiling eyes.
I make certain Nikolai is still watching before I accept. It would be rude to decline.
He leads me out onto the floor and sweeps me into a spinning waltz a few inches above the ground. I’m laughing before I know it, smiling at the pink petals that rain down around us and the soft fragrance of a flower garden. The Halls are a dream sometimes.
“Your dress is stunning,” he tells me when the dance ends, offering his arm to walk me off the floor.
“Thank you.” I smile, and my silver moths flutter with delight.
I’m whisked away for another dance before I can return to my friends.
And then another. Gloved hands twine with mine, flirtatious but careful never to brush skin to skin.
The hours dance away like I do, until I have to excuse myself to get a drink.
This time, I ensure the punch isn’t enchanted before quenching my thirst.
“You look devastating.” His velvet voice brushes my ear.
My laughter dies. I turn around to find the magician behind me, his eyes flickering with as much heat as his mask as he shamelessly takes in every detail of my shadowed dress and paper-thin silver wings.
His fiery ensemble warms me, even from several steps away; it’s as brilliant—and as beyond possibility and beyond comprehension—as he is.
“So do you.” I smile, but it’s a sad smile, a smile for what we might have had.
“Would you like to dance?” he asks.
“You have a date,” I reply.
“I do.”
“So why are you asking me?”
“You’re the only one I want to dance with.” His bold eyes, the perfect contrast to his red-hot suit, take my breath away like they always do. It’s easy to imagine how I lost myself in this magician, again and again.
“You can’t have us both,” I say. “Not after everything she’s done to me.”
“It’s just for tonight. Jezebel has another clue.”
“There will always be another clue. At some point you have to decide what’s most important.”
“Taera—”
“Am I wrong?”
His face goes unreadable behind the flicker of his mask. “No.”
“What are you up to, love?” Jezebel appears, coiling an arm around Nikolai and kissing his cheek before she makes a show of noticing me. “Oh, it’s you.”
I flinch, and her smile grows wide.
“Don’t, Belle,” he says, but he doesn’t pull away from her.
“But it would be so fun to tell her everything.” She grins at me. He tries to pull her back toward the dance floor, but she stays in place, her stare unwavering. I agree with Jezebel for once. I want to hash out our differences and be done with it.
Laughter bubbles up in Jezebel’s throat. “There’s so much he hasn’t told you, sugar.”
I rise to the bait. “He’s told me more than he’s told you.”
“Really?” Her brows shoot up, her expression delighted. “Like what?”
Nikolai shoots me a pleading look, but he still hasn’t left her side. His flames fuel my own, and my eyes narrow.
“Cat got your tongue?” Jezebel laughs. “Meow.”
“Belle—”
“Why do you call her that?” I snap. “In front of me?”
“Not now, Taera.” He glares at me, the harshness in his tone making me take a step back.
“Good boy,” Jezebel says, turning to me. “He knows he won’t get a treat unless he pleases me.”
I search those emerald eyes for the magician I used to know. “A minute ago you wanted to dance with me more than anyone.”
Jezebel’s smile disintegrates, but Nikolai doesn’t react.
“Was that a lie?” I ask.
“Please…” he says.
I step closer to him, the flames growing sweltering. “You told me that in the end, you would be mine.”
Jezebel’s expression turns ugly. “That won’t do.”
“Taera. Stop.” Nikolai’s eyes flash with fear, and I hesitate. But I won’t back down. I’m done stepping aside.
“I wasn’t going to, but you’ve forced me.” Jezebel lifts a hand into the air and flicks her wrist.
“Taera!” Annie’s shout pierces the ballroom. I whip around in time to see her across the room, feathers flying everywhere as four students wrestle her up the stairs and out the door. Why would Jezebel hurt Annie?
“What are you—” The blood drains from my face.
When Annie is gone… her illusions—
I swivel, but there’s nowhere to run. With all the commotion, a crowd has gathered around us.
This can’t be happening, is all I can think before my dress vanishes.