Chapter 35
“Tell me how beautiful I am.”
Jordan’s voice scrapes against my last nerve.
She has been demanding compliments for the past thirty minutes, ever since we left Validus Vale. Sure, on paper she looks great—if a little Morticia Addams—in a clinging black dress, smoky eyes, and six-inch heels—but not one part of me finds her remotely attractive.
“Truly gorgeous,” I say, maintaining a neutral, distant smile. “The black suits you.”
Suits the black void where your soul should be, that is.
She sighs dramatically, preening under the faint praise. “I know. It’s a level of sophistication that is not often seen around here.”
Our driver pulls up outside the State Capitol building complex. A red carpet lays over the steps, and stanchions and ropes hold back paparazzi. Added to that are at least a dozen armed guards, wearing tactical gear and holding weapons.
I get out of the car first, then give Jordan my hand so she can make her grand, over-the-top entrance; then we pose for photos for at least fifteen minutes.
Something as trivial as a mass of protestors is not going to stop her from hogging the limelight.
All the scene-stealing causes a backlog with the other guests, but there is no hurrying Ms. Singleton-Smith. Gritting my teeth so hard my jaw aches, I cast my gaze over the crowds.
My eyes clash with one of the protestors.
He’s completely dressed in black, and the side of his face is bisected with a scar.
Huh. I’ve seen him before; he was at the building site with Singleton-Smith. Why is he rallying against the Elite at a social event in Havengard?
I make a mental note to put Striker on the question.
Finally, we climb the steps and head to the reception room. It’s already filled with the top social strata in Havengard.
My eyes immediately do a sweep; they first lock onto Feniks in his obviously rented tux. The bored, trapped expression on his face is not stopping all the middle-aged mothers from falling all over him. I smirk at his predicament.
It's a small comfort, knowing my misery is momentarily shared, though his is elective and mine is mandatory.
Francois de Vaux nods at me from where he’s standing beside his asshole father, Thomas Crankshawe. Crankshawe’s wearing his signature black velvet. Manu Hale’s mother is the third in their little group.
Huh, I never did find out where Manu disappeared to.
I adjust my cufflinks and steer Jordan toward the open bar. At least I can count on some excellent champagne. Jordan’s fingers circle my arm, gripping tightly. “Have someone fetch up drinks, I don’t do ‘counter service’.”
“Of course, dear.” I look around and see some of Jordan’s cronies waving at us. “Why don’t you wait with Kayla and Klein while I get that sorted?”
Jordan is content with the suggestion, so I quickly make an escape.
Pushing myself through the throng, I bat away a floating globe of amber light. I’m not interested in the decorations, I just want to get through the night. The crowd parts a little, and that’s when I spot Donovan, Maximus, and Theodora. Dono is gazing at the girl like she’s a goddess.
I have to admit, among the sea of black tuxedos and sophisticated gowns, Theodora stands out like a rainbow in a stormy gray sky. Her hair is its usual untamed riot of dark curls, and the dress she’s wearing? A mix of colors that sparkle under the light, making her seem…ethereal.
Donovan hooks his arm around her waist, while Max stands on her other side, looking just as infatuated.
I feel a pang of something. Envy?
They look so carefree. Fuckers. None of them has a future arranged marriage to contend with. No, they get to hang out together, a unit, looking out for one another.
One is one, and all alone, and ever more shall be so.
I’ll never be part of that group.
Theodora thinks I’m the biggest asshole she’s ever met, which is fair considering the way I’ve behaved.
It doesn’t matter what I do; I’ll never be able to make things right with her. That’s just something I’ll need to live with.
The consequences of my actions.
Turning my back on them, I head towards the nearest server. I’d love to drown myself in alcohol tonight, but that would not be advisable. With my father and who knows how many Conclave members here, a clear head is necessary.
“One champagne and one club soda.” I take my two glasses and start to move, but someone puts a hand on my jacket. I flinch at the thought of sticky fingers on my silk tuxedo; this fabric is designed to both reflect the light and drape beautifully—fingerprints are an absolute no.
“Enjoying yourself?” a voice asks.
I turn to see Francois.
Why does this Freshman feel the need to always greet me? Is he trying to become my friend? That’s not going to happen, especially as he is touching. My. Suit.
I shift out of his grasp, and he grins, completely unconcerned.
“Have a fun night.”
“Unlikely,” I mutter as I set off to return to my fiancée.
“Finally,” Jordan sighs, snatching the champagne glass the second I arrive. “I thought I was going to die of thirst. Let’s go find Papa.”
Great, some quality Alistair Singleton-Smith time. “Good idea,” I reply, forcing the corners of my mouth up. We make it a total of ten feet before a critical thought snaps into my mind. I pivot instantly.
“Sorry, dear. I have to use the restroom, back in a few minutes.”
I don’t give her time to protest—or even process the lie—and I don’t care that she will complain later. This thought requires immediate action. I melt into the density of the crowd, navigating the social clutter toward Theodora’s table like a guided missile.
They are all looking at me with a mix of surprise and suspicion as I approach.
“You managed to escape the black widow?” Donovan asks, looking over my shoulder.
“Not really,” I reply, keeping my voice low.
“This has to be quick, but…” I direct my attention to Theodora, “...can you use your telepathy tonight on Francois de Vaux? Any information could be helpful. I don't trust him.”
I know she doesn’t owe me any favors, but this isn't about personal alliances; it is about strategic survival.
Theo’s eyes narrow, then she gives a decisive nod. “I’ll need help recognizing him though. And don’t forget, you can send me mental messages, Cosmo. We don’t need a face-to-face meeting.”
Fuck, of course. “I have to go.”
—Wait—
I pause and look at Theodora.
—The twins’ parents are here— she broadcasts into my mind —And their mom has the dark essence, I could see it—
Shit.
—Keep note of anyone who has that evil crap in them—
—I will—
When I rejoin Jordan, not only is she with her parents, but my father as well. He moves slightly, and to my horror, I see Aurora lurking behind his shoulder. She’s taller than the last time I saw her.
Rory’s full mouth is sulky, and a frown creases her brow. She looks up at me with her huge eyes. They’re wide-set, making her look like a pixie, fairy, something enchanted. Those eyes roll behind my father’s back.
Careless, sis. He won’t stand for impertinence.
Why has he brought my sister here? She’s only sixteen, too young, and utterly unprepared for this den of vipers.
Alistair Singleton-Smith holds out a hand, and we shake. “There you are, Cosmo. I couldn’t understand why my daughter was unattended.”
“Apologies,” I grind out, then press a cold, obligatory kiss onto the cheek of Jordan’s mother. “You look exquisite as always, Mrs. Singleton-Smith.”
Janine Singleton-Smith gives a fake, high-pitched giggle. “Come now, Cosmo, we’re old friends, please call me Janine. After all, we’re virtually family, are we not?”
“An honor,” I murmur. Fuck my life. I nod to my own parent. “Father,” then turn to my sister. “Hey, kiddo.”
She bites her lip nervously. “Hey.”
Janine squeezes my arm. “We are delighted by you and Jordan becoming a match, Cosmo. You’re just the kind of man my girl needs; strong and viral.”
I presume she means virile. Janine hasn’t two brain cells to rub together. She’s speaking fast, like she’s a little nervous. Tense. In fact, they all seem tense, apart from Father.
He narrows his eyes at me. “Cosmo, how are you this evening?” I can count on one hand, with all the fingers amputated, how many times Tyrus Drakeward has asked me that question.
“Quite well, sir,” I answer, wishing I could see the dark essence the same as Theodora. Is it inside my father? I can’t believe it’s not.
“In fact, I feel better than ever before,” I add.
Father and Singleton-Smith share a look and a smirk, sharing a private joke. Any tension they were carrying evaporates.
“We are glad to hear that,” Jordan’s dad says. As he speaks, my father's phone makes a noise. Frowning, he brings it to his ear. “Speak.” Our small group is silent while Father takes his call. “That’s interesting,” he says. “And as you say, an opportunity.”
I dread to think what he’s plotting now.
My father gives an unpleasant smile. “Give it an hour, then go ahead however you see fit.” The phone goes back in his pocket, then Father pins me in his glare. “So, Cosmo, it seems you are finally ready to take up your position.”
“Er, yes, sir. If you say so.” My position?
“You will have the honor,” Father continues, “to serve me and to serve The Conclave in our new tomorrow.” As he speaks, I feel the invisible sigil on my neck burn. Fuck, I need Theodora to free me from his bond. “You will bend the knee in every way required, do you understand?”
Now the force coming from my father shifts. It’s more than a simple binding; a dark magic fills my veins. It feels like drowning.
I cannot panic, but I don’t know if I can fight it.
Gods.
Suddenly, a warm rush fizzes through every atom of my body. I can almost see the golden sparkles destroying the dark smoke inside me. Thank the Gods.
Or Amirene.
Or Theodora.
I stand blankly, hoping this is what my father expects to see. “I will serve, Father,” I monotone.
“You will put the dawn of the Magical age above all else,” he demands. “As we guide the people to a new, powerful, pure future.”
“Yes, Father, I will.”