Chapter 34
Thirty-Four
Rose
The Winter Ball transforms the Great Hall into something out of a fairy tale, with obscene amounts of twinkling lights, cascading arrangements of white roses, frosted branches, pale star lilies and silver berries, and glowing blue ice sculptures in every corner.
I fidget with the emerald green dress, still not quite believing I’m here with an actual date.
First time for everything, I guess. Drake’s hand takes mine as we pause at the entrance, and I have to remind myself that yes, this is real. He’s real.
“Are you alright?” Drake asks, squeezing my fingers gently.
“Better than okay.” I turn to look at him, and he takes my breath away.
He’s wearing a perfectly fitted black suit that makes his blue eyes look even more striking.
Mrs. Bright conjured it for him, though I’m pretty sure that’s not in her job description.
But technically, you could say Drake is still a student? “You clean up nicely, Winstead.”
“You’re not so bad yourself.” His smile makes my heart do a stupid little flip. “That dress is incredible on you.”
“Thank Lucien. He’s apparently an expert in formal wear.” I smooth my hands down the silky fabric. “Still getting used to it.”
“Well, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.” Drake’s gaze is so intense I have to look away, but I think he sees my smile before I hide it.
We step fully into the Great Hall, and immediately I feel eyes on us. Not just because I’m the resident outcast witch, but because, of course, nobody recognizes Drake. The whispering starts almost instantly, heads turning our way, conversations pausing mid-sentence.
Harry and his usual posse are hanging by the punch bowl, and the double-take he does when he sees Drake is too much. His mouth actually drops open, and he elbows his friend so hard the guy spills punch down his white shirt.
“They’re staring,” I mutter.
“Fine by me.” Drake’s voice is carefree in a way I’ve never heard before. “I’ve spent a century being invisible. Having people actually see me is nice. More than nice, really.”
His perspective shifts something in me, and I stand a little taller, taking his hand more confidently. “You’re right. Let’s give them something to stare at.”
We make our way through the crowd, moving between clusters of students in luxurious formal wear. There is music from an actual orchestra, and it is playing something classical that sounds vaguely familiar from movies.
The entire academy is here tonight, except for Jasmine, and I silently thank the universe for small blessings. Thorne’s nowhere to be seen, though her little entourage is huddled in a corner looking uncomfortable without their leader.
We’re about to hit the refreshment table when Harry breaks away from his friends and approaches us. I brace myself for whatever snide comment he’s about to deliver, but to my shock, he’s smiling.
“You look, um, really great.” He gestures at my dress, looking awkwardly earnest. “Green’s a good color on you.”
I blink at him, waiting for the punchline.
“Harry thinks you look hot,” says one of his friends from behind him, and Harry’s ears turn pink.
“Shut up, man,” Harry says without turning around. He extends his hand to Drake. “I don’t think we’ve met. Harry.”
“Drake.” They shake hands, with Harry wincing a little as Drake grips his hand a little harder than he should. I watch in fascination as Harry processes that he’s never seen Drake before.
“Are you new?”
Drake’s mouth lifts up at one corner. “Something like that.”
Harry nods like this makes perfect sense. “Cool, cool. Well, enjoy the ball. Save me a dance later, Rose?”
“Uh… “ I’m still trying to process this bizarrely nice version of Harry as he heads back to his friends. “What just happened?”
“I think you have an admirer,” Drake says, looking amused.
“Harry? Please. He’s just being weird.”
“If you say so.”
I’m about to protest further when I feel a presence behind me, familiar and commanding.
Lucien appears at my side in a black tux. He’s unfairly gorgeous, with his dark hair groomed perfectly, and his aristocratic features made even more striking by the formal setting. I can almost picture him as lord of the manor.
A smile spreads across my face. “Like what you see?”
His eyes move over me slowly, lingering in ways that make me blush. “Very much so.”
Drake clears his throat. “Lucien.”
“Drake.” There’s a nod of acknowledgment between them. “You’re looking very… present.”
There’s a moment of tension, then both men seem to relax slightly. Whatever silent communication just happened, they’ve reached some kind of understanding.
Lucien extends his hand. “May I see the dress?”
I place my hand in his and let him twirl me, the gown flaring around my legs in a satisfying swish. When I come to a stop, facing him again, his eyes have darkened with appreciation.
“Perfect,” he murmurs. “Just as I imagined.”
He leans closer and says, “Though I confess I’m looking forward to removing it later tonight.”
My cheeks get hot. “Is that so?”
“Indeed.” His fingertips brush against my bare shoulder, the gesture so quick and light that anyone watching wouldn’t notice, but it leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “You’ve worn the dress beautifully. But I find myself already anticipating what comes after.”
I’m about to respond when a tall woman approaches. “Mr. de Lacroix, Professor Moriaen needs your assistance with a situation. It appears one of the students has gotten themselves into a predicament with an ice sculpture.”
I don’t even want to know what that means.
“Of course. I’ll be right there.” Lucien turns back to me. “Save a dance for me, Rose.”
“Always,” I reply, watching as he walks away.
Drake’s hand settles at the small of my back. “Dance with me?”
The orchestra has shifted to something slower, more intimate. All around us, couples are moving onto the dance floor. “I should warn you, I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Follow my lead.” Drake guides me to the center of the floor, one hand at my waist, the other holding mine. “I was quite a dancer in my day.”
“Your day being...?”
“The 1920s.” He smiles. “The Charleston was my specialty, but I think we’ll keep it simple tonight.”
He begins to move, and I follow, surprised at how easy it feels. We glide across the floor, and for a few moments, everything else fades away, all the stares, the whispers, the worry about Jasmine. It’s just Drake and me, moving together.
“I never thought I’d do this again,” he says softly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Dance with someone. Hold someone. Be seen.”
“How does it feel?”
“Like a miracle. Like you are a miracle.”
We stay that way for two more songs.
“Mind if I cut in?” I turn to see Soren looking sinfully sexy. “It’s considered polite to share at these things.”
Drake looks reluctant, but he steps back with a small bow. “Don’t keep her too long.”
“No promises,” Soren says with a wink, taking my hand and pulling me against him with a swiftness that leaves me slightly breathless.
Soren dances with a reckless sensuality that borders on inappropriate for a school function. His hand slides lower on my back than is strictly necessary, and he holds me close enough that I can feel things I shouldn’t be able to feel.
“Professor.”
“Miss Smith,” he replies, spinning me out and pulling me back with a flourish. “Enjoying yourself?”
“I was.”
He laughs. “Liar. You love dancing with me.”
“You’re terrible.”
“And you’re beautiful.” His tone shifts, becoming unexpectedly sincere. “Green suits you.”
“Thank you.”
Soren’s hand moves to my hip, guiding me through a turn. “Though I maintain that you look even better in absolutely nothing at all.”
I feel heat rising to my cheeks. “We’re in public, Soren.”
He leans closer, his lips brushing my ear. “After this, why don’t we slip away? I have a bottle of champagne chilling in my quarters. Bring your ghost boy. Lucien, too.”
Before I can respond, I feel a tingle at the back of my neck, a sensation that has nothing to do with Soren’s suggestion. My blood mark singes, and I know before I turn around that Ash is here.
I spot him across the room. He’s dressed in an impeccable black suit, hair slightly tousled as if he couldn’t be bothered to tame it completely. His green eyes find mine immediately.
“Oh,” Soren says, following my gaze. He grins wickedly. “Shall we make this evening even more interesting?”
Before I can stop him, he’s steering me through the crowd toward Ash. We come to a stop directly in front of him, and Soren offers a bow.
“Ash. What a surprise. Care to dance with our little witch?”
Ash’s eyes narrow slightly, moving from Soren to me. “I didn’t come here to dance.”
“Didn’t you?” Soren’s smile is knowing. “Then why are you here dressed to the nines, watching Rose so intently?”
I should say something, but words seem to have abandoned me completely. Ash looks impossibly handsome in his suit, and the memory of what happened between us in the woods floods back with vivid clarity, making my skin flush.
“The lady needs a new partner, and I’ve had my turn. For now.” With that, Soren takes my hand and places it in Ash’s, then steps back with a smirk. “Play nice, children.”
And just like that, I’m standing with Ash’s hand holding mine. Both of us look horrified.
“You don’t have to dance with me,” I say at last.
“I know.” His other hand settles on my waist, firm and possessive.
The orchestra begins a new piece, something with a darker, more sensual undertone. Ash pulls me closer, and we begin to move together. He’s an excellent dancer, which shouldn’t surprise me but somehow does. Each step is sure and strong.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” I say.
“Neither did I.” His thumb brushes against my lower back, a small gesture that sends shivers up my spine. “But I felt you through the mark. Your excitement. Your happiness. It was... compelling.”
I don’t know what to say to that. The idea that Ash came here because he felt my emotions, because he wanted to be part of my joy, is both unsettling and deeply touching.
“The dress is stunning,” he says after a moment.
“Lucien picked it out.”
His eyes flash with jealousy. “Of course he did.”
We move in silence for a few beats, and I’m painfully aware of how many people are watching us. Drake and Lucien are nowhere to be seen, which is probably for the best. This moment feels fragile, like a bubble that could burst at any second.
“I’ve been thinking about the other night,” Ash says, his voice low enough that only I can hear. “In the woods.”
Heat rushes to my face. “Oh?”
“I don’t regret it.”
I look up at him, caught off guard by his directness. “Neither do I.”
His hand tightens at my waist. “Good.”
The music swells, and Ash guides me through a more complex series of steps. I follow without thinking, our bodies in perfect sync, as if we’ve danced together a thousand times before. It feels dangerous and right, all at once.
Then I turn to see Harry pushing through the crowd toward us.
Ash’s arm remains around my waist, not letting me step away. “What is it?”
Harry looks between us, confusion briefly crossing his face before he refocuses. “It’s Thorne. She’s missing.”
“What do you mean, missing?” I ask, though I already know, dread settling in my stomach like a stone.
“She said she’d meet Harry here. But that was hours ago, and no one’s seen her since. She wouldn’t miss the ball.” Harry seems genuinely distressed. “You guys aren’t exactly friends, but Harry thought maybe you’d seen her. Harry asked everyone else.”
I exchange a glance with Ash, who is perplexedly staring at Harry as he speaks. “I haven’t,” I say carefully. “But Harry, when did you last see her?”
“Harry saw her earlier today, we tried to get her to come to lunch, but she said she wasn’t going to eat until after tonight because of her dress.”
It is strange that Thorne isn’t here. I heard her myself, blabbering on and on about how her dress was going to be the best one at the ball. I may not like her, but the thought of her ending up like Ella is awful.
“We’ll help find her. Just try to keep this quiet for now, okay?”
Harry nods, looking relieved, then scurries away.
Ash’s grip on me tightens. “We need to talk,” he says. “All of us. Now.”
The bubble has burst. The magical evening is over, reality crashing back in like an unwelcome drunk uncle. Thorne is missing, and there’s a chance she might be the next victim of Jasmine’s bizarre appetites.
I take one last look around the transformed Great Hall, at the twinkling lights and the dancing couples, at the brief moment of normalcy we were given.
“Let’s go.”