Chapter 26 #3
Titaia laughs as she approaches me, though there’s a sharpness to it, like the edge of a blade hidden beneath silk.
The blood-red pleats of her gown cling to her figure in all the right places, the fabric spilling down her arms like liquid.
Her dark auburn hair is swept back from her face with two ruby-encrusted combs, and a strip of sheer red fabric veils her eyes, tiny garnets shimmering in its threads.
She loops her arm through mine, her touch light but firm.
I clench my hands together to still their faint trembling as she leads me from the dance floor.
Others greet us with smiles as we weave past them, but Titaia barely acknowledges them until she pulls us to a stop in a shadowy corner of the room.
“Perhaps. But it’s not the jewels that fascinate him, Aella. Be careful. Keres rarely shows interest without a motive.”
I glance at her, catching the faintest flicker of something brittle in her expression before her features soften, wrapping themselves in warmth like a thin cloak.
“Are you worried about me, Titaia?” I ask, letting a playful lilt creep into my tone.
“Shouldn’t I be?” Her voice is smooth but her faint smile looks more like a crack than a curve.
“Though, selfishly, I wouldn’t mind having an ally at court.
” Titaia’s fingers brush against my arm, and her gaze flickers to the crowd before returning to mine, something unspoken lingering beneath her polished exterior.
“You play the game well, but this court is teeming with predators. Keres, in particular, has a knack for caging things, to release them only when it suits his whims. Don’t lose sight of that. ”
“I have no intention of being anyone’s prey,” I say lightly, though there’s a touch of steel beneath my words. “Even less so of being caged.”
Titaia’s smile hangs on, delicate and strained, as though it might shatter at any moment. “Freedom is always within reach,” she says softly. “Especially when there’s someone willing to unlock the door.”
I study her, her careful words, the veiled layers beneath them. My eyes dip to her hand, noticing the subtle tightening of her grip on the sheer red fabric covering her arm. Her fingers tremble, just enough for me to wonder if the cage she speaks of is her own.
“Speaking of caged playthings,” she adds abruptly, her voice sharper now. “How is our mutual acquaintance?”
“She’s not one to be held for long.” I force a casual smile. “I imagine she’ll be far from here before the last dance.”
“Good,” Titaia says, her shoulders lowering as her smile turns more sincere. “I’d better not hover in the shadows. They’ll think I’m planning a coup and have me thrown in the dungeons.”
She gives my arm a parting squeeze before heading toward a group of courtiers. I watch her as she goes, a faint smile tugging at my lips as her words linger, tinged with amusement at how close to the truth they are.
With a sigh, I head back into the fray. By the time I leave the dance floor again, my feet and lower back are aching from the ceaseless dancing. The masked faces of my partners eventually blurred together, time passing slowly.
I still have received no signal from Raven.
Worry is eating away at my mind, nausea swirling in my gut.
I glance around for Nyssa, but the crowd is too thick.
An impossible number of bodies are crammed into the immense hall.
I bite the inside of my cheek, my shoulders rigid beneath the weight of the mask that suddenly feels stifling. Too close. Too much.
The ballroom is alive, glittering, and I’m drowning.
I can’t stop moving, though every practiced smile, every measured step, is like dragging myself through a mire no one else seems to see. I glance around, searching for Nyssa, for her face, for anything to pull me above the surface.
Then the burn starts.
A slow, searing heat spreads beneath my skin, right over my heart. I glance down, pulse stuttering. Faint but unmistakable, the outline of Sphinx’s mark is surfacing.
Panic blooms.
I press my hand to my chest as if I can smother it, hide it, will it away. But the warmth pulses stronger beneath my palm.
Air. I need air.
I need to breathe.
I push my way through the gathered tycheroi, almost gasping with relief as I step through the glass door and out into the cold embrace of the night.
The balcony is deserted, all the revelers choosing to stay in the warmth of the ballroom.
The wind wraps itself around me, a soothing lullaby whispered in its current.
Despite the slight relief, anxiety claws at me from the inside, sharp talons making my breath ragged. It’s almost midnight and there still has been no signal.
Worry poisons my mind, conjuring visions of the Flight being captured by the Royal Guard and thrown into cells.
Or worse.
That thought bites, sharp enough to hurt.
But the mark on my chest flares again, more violent this time.
It sears through my chest like wildfire, blooming beneath my ribs.
I stumble, pressing my hand more firmly into my skin.
Pure golden light flares under my palm, bleeding through my fingers like the sun breaking through storm clouds.
No—not now.
My breath hitches. My back hits the cold stone railing as I try to hold it in, to contain it, but it pulses like a heartbeat out of rhythm.
And then—
Snap.
It vanishes.
The light, the heat, the pressure—gone in an instant. Like a cord has been cut. My knees nearly buckle with the sudden absence. I stare down at my hand, trembling, the phantom memory of the mark still etched into my skin.
Is it over? Is my bargain with Sphinx fulfilled?
I pace, torn between the need to go in search of the Flight, to make sure they’re okay, and the orders that bind me to this ridiculous charade.
“Some might think you have very little faith in me.”
I spin, my gown fanning out in a cascade of glittering fabric, and find Raven leaning against the marble railing, his dark mask hiding everything except the faint curve of his smirk and the intensity of his eyes.
I find myself conflicted once again. Only this time between the desire to either rip his clothes off or rip into him.
I choose the latter.
“What took you so gods-damned long?” I hiss. My voice trembles as I march toward him, each step as much about grounding myself as it is anger.
“Why, Starling…” he says with a slow curl of his lips. “Were you worried about me?”
I slap him in the chest with the back of my hand. “Can you be serious?”
Raven grabs my wrist mid-swing, stopping me before I can land a second blow. His grip is firm but gentle, his thumb brushing over my pulse in a way that makes me hate just how deeply it calms me.
“We have the weapon. The others are transporting it through the tunnel now.”
“And Sphinx?”
“She all but disappeared the moment the collar was nullified.” He glances down at my chest, where golden light had flared moments ago, relief etched into his features. “Your bargain is complete.”
“Then why are you here? You need to leave—”
He pulls me farther into the shadows and kisses me. It’s messy and desperate—like kissing me is the only thing that will keep his heart beating. When he pulls away, all I want is for him to come back.
“I needed to see you.” His whisper caresses my ear, sending a shiver of pleasure down my spine. “I needed to feel you tremble beneath my fingers. I needed to taste you on my tongue. But most of all, I needed a reminder of why I’m doing all this.”
The words cut through me. My throat tightens, but I refuse to cry, refuse to give in to the trembling ache in my chest.
“You’re a fool,” I say. But if he’s a fool, then so am I.
I tear off my mask, letting it clatter to the marble floor before reaching up and removing his. I drag his face back to mine again and kiss him softly. Slow and sweet, like we have all the time in the world, like this moment isn’t the last time we’ll see each other.
Like my heart isn’t crumbling to dust.
“I can’t do this.” My voice is barely more than a whisper, caught in the wind. The rawness of it startles me, the admission tumbling out before I can stop it.
Raven’s eyes soften, but there’s a tightness in his jaw I can’t ignore. “You can.”
Before I can reply, Raven pulls free a small pendant from his pocket, the gleaming, heart-shaped charm catching the faint moonlight. Tiny, curled engravings shimmer along its surface. When I stare, uncomprehending, he offers a hesitant smile. “May I?”
I can only nod and turn, lifting my hair as he loops the chain around my neck, his fingertips brushing against my skin as he fastens it.
The weight of it settles against my chest, an anchor to a moment I wish I could hold on to forever.
I tuck it underneath my dress, keeping it concealed.
When I turn back, I frown at his grim expression.
“It’s not just a token.” His voice lowers, making my pulse stutter. “As much as I would like this to be a romantic gesture, the pendant contains a deadly dose of nightshade.”
I go still at his words, my stomach twisting with the memory of my last encounter with the poison.
“Raven—”
“Promise me,” he whispers, “you’ll only use it as a last resort. If it ever comes to that.”
My throat is thick with words I can’t speak, but my head dips in a stiff, reluctant nod.
When my eyes lift to his again, I see it—the crack in his mask.
A flicker of fear lingers in his expression, not for himself but for me.
It twists something sharp inside me, and for the first time, I hate the strength I see in him.
Because it makes it easier for him to leave.
He leans in and presses his lips to my forehead, the kiss heavy and deliberate, like the weight of goodbye itself. But the word never comes, and something fragile stirs in my chest—hope, reckless and uninvited.
“Stay safe for me, princess,” he murmurs against my skin.
Then he’s gone, slipping into the shadows that swallow the starlight.
And I’m left on the balcony, holding my breath as though keeping it in might stop me from falling apart entirely. I clutch the pendant through my gown, the cold metal burning against my skin. My tears sting, but I don’t have the luxury of letting them fall.
Nyssa needs me. That should be enough—I keep repeating the words, over and over, like a mantra I can force into truth. But tonight, that mantra feels slippery, like it wants to fall through my fingers.
The court is full of predators, true, but it feels like more than that. Each smile, each mask, each calculating stare circling around me pulls at something buried. It reminds me of things I don’t want to remember, of all the pieces of myself that need to remain hidden.
I bend to retrieve my mask from the floor, securing it back in place. A sigh escapes me as the cool quartz settles against my skin, a wave of relief washing over me with my shield restored. Drawing in one last steadying breath, I turn toward the ballroom, prepared to face whatever awaits.