Chapter 13
Thirteen
T he sky outside Alaire’s arched window was a canvas of stormy grey. It had been like this for days—clouds lurking on the horizon, threatening to break but never quite doing so, much like the thoughts swirling in her mind. She stood stiffly at the window, arms crossed.
“You’re scowling again.” Kaia’s voice pulled her back to the present.
Alaire blinked, turning to find Kaia perched on the edge of her bed, auburn hair spilling over her shoulder. She grinned, amused.
“I wasn’t scowling.”
Kaia’s brows rose. “Oh, you were. Let me guess—you’re brooding about Dawson. Again .” Her almond eyes sparkled with mischief. “Tell me, is it about how he’s been avoiding you?”
Alaire’s nails bit crescents into her palms. “I don’t care what he’s doing.”
“Oh, please. You’re practically vibrating with repressed feelings. It’s been days. Can’t you admit that someone caring about you might not be the end of the world?”
“I don’t need anyone to care about me,” Alaire bit out, the words tasting bitter on her tongue.
Kaia’s teasing expression softened. “You’re right. You don’t. You’re strong as hell. But that doesn’t mean it’s bad to let someone in.”
Alaire’s throat tightened. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to think about Dawson’s hands steadying her, firm and sure, or the low urgency in his voice as he said, I’ve got you —as if it mattered. As if she mattered.
“He only stepped in because he needs me alive,” Alaire said flatly. “We’re partners.”
Kaia tilted her head, gaze unreadable. “Maybe.”
Alaire turned back to the window, her reflection faint against the darkening sky. Her fingers brushed the cool stone as she exhaled, fogging the glass. No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, the memory refused to fade.
You’re not what I expected, Alaire Aerendyl.
The stars blinked, offering no answers.
“… and we deserve to blow off some steam,” Kaia said, clapping sharply, snapping Alaire back to reality.
“Right,” she mumbled.
“Yoohoo, Alaire. Are you even paying attention?”
“Yes.” But all she saw when she closed her eyes was that aquamarine gaze burning into her soul.
“So, you’re in?”
“Huh? Sure.”
“Perfect. Let’s see what I have that’ll fit you. You can’t wear your training leathers to a party.”
“Wait, what?”
“So you weren’t listening?” Kaia planted her hands on her hips.
“I can neither confirm nor deny.”
Kaia rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky we’re friends.”
“I am.” The declaration wasn’t planned, but Alaire knew it was true. Somehow, Kaia had dismantled her well-fortified defenses. Letting someone in was terrifying, but Kaia made it feel safe.
Kaia’s eyes widened at her admission. “Are you being mushy?”
Alaire scoffed. “Don’t get used to it. But I can admit I’m lucky to have found you in this place.”
Kaia hopped onto the bed and squeezed her shoulders. “Say you’ll come with me.”
“Come with you where?”
“To a party.”
“A party?” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Parties aren’t my thing. What if we sneak some food and stay under the blankets instead?”
“You aren’t some tragic poet. You’re young and attractive, and we deserve a break. Don’t make me go alone. It’s your duty as my friend to come to these things.” Kaia’s eyes drilled into her.
Alaire glanced out the window one last time, then back to Kaia—who was pouting now, her lower lip jutting out.
“Fine,” she groaned. “But I get to veto any ridiculous outfits.”
“Deal!” Kaia squealed. “This is going to be so much fun.”
Alaire gave one last longing look at the bed—so long, friend.
Alaire stared at herself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the person peering back.
Kaia had convinced her to wear something she would’ve never chosen on her own: an ombre tank top with a silver sweetheart neckline fading into black, layered with a sheer, long-sleeved top that shimmered like the night sky.
The high-waisted skirt was a deep navy, and Kaia had paired it with a small, elegant clutch covered in stars.
Around her neck, silver necklaces of varying lengths layered down her chest, the longest ending in a star pendant.
Somehow, Kaia had tamed Alaire’s mass of wavy hair into a sleek, high ponytail, its base wrapped with a strand of her hair. Dark kohl enhanced her green eyes, while the rest of her face remained natural.
Alaire had drawn the line at the shoes. Kaia’s original choice—a pair of heels as high as Eclat Castle’s spires—was quickly vetoed in favor of stylish yet comfortable metallic slippers with delicate bows at each heel. Alaire was far from delicate, but tonight she could pretend.
Kaia poked her between the shoulder blades, forcing her posture straighter. “Girl, if you got it, flaunt it.”
“It’s the flaunting part that’s the problem,” Alaire muttered. Give her blades, and she’d feel much more at ease.
“Pfft. Dawson won’t know what he’s missing,” Kaia said, disappearing into the bathroom.
“We don’t care what Dawson thinks, remember?”
“I never knew humans were so stubborn.”
“Not just a human trait. Though I’ll admit, the people of Lyra know a thing or two about fashion.” Alaire had never worn anything so extravagant.
“You haven’t even seen half of my wardrobe.” Kaia reemerged.
“Hot damn…” Alaire whistled. “Archer’s jaw is going to drop to the floor.”
Kaia twirled in front of the mirror. She had opted for a looser, flowing emerald silk blouse with bell sleeves, paired with high-waisted black trousers embroidered with delicate flowers. Her layered gold necklaces matched Alaire’s set, merging with the simple silver one she always wore.
“So, you finally saw reason?”
Kaia stuck out a foot, showing off her own slippers. “You’re right. There’s no reason you can’t be stylish and comfortable. Though those boots are so beautiful.” Her auburn curls were pinned half up, half down, with tiny tendrils framing her face. “Ready?”
Alaire gave a begrudging nod.
Kaia linked their arms. “Tonight, everyone will be staring at you for an entirely different reason than trying to plot your demise.”
“Can’t wait,” Alaire mumbled. “Where exactly is this party?”
“Not too far,” Kaia said lightly. “You’ve been there before, but I bet you haven’t seen it like this.”
“How did you hear about it anyway?”
“Someone mentioned it at breakfast while you were salivating over the jam selection—and then zoning out, staring at your bread.”
Her cheeks heated. She hadn’t realized she zoned out that often. Everything at Aeris Academy had grown so complicated so quickly. She thrived on having a plan. Here, all the variables orbited far beyond her reach.
She’d made no progress since discovering those files in Professor Ross’s office. Countless hours in the library yielded nothing, and she hadn’t dared risk revisiting his office.
“Anyhow, after endless hours of studying and training, I decided we deserved a break.”
“How thoughtful of you,” Alaire said.
“I knew you’d see the magnanimous generosity of my ways.”
The flagstone path was smooth beneath her slippers until it rose in a slight incline, and the flimsy soles gave her no traction. Alaire muttered a curse. “This better be the best damn party in the entire realm for making me walk uphill in these shoes.”
“Quit complaining. If you can knock out a huge fae, you can get your bony ass up this hill in flats.”
Alaire responded with incoherent grumbling.
By the time they crested the hill, a light film of sweat clung to her back.
The Obscurum Atrium housed her least favorite class: Illusions and Mind Magic, where elemental wielders of House Cerebral honed their skills in weaving illusions and mind work.
The building, though still crowned with pointed arches and spires, was lighter than the rest of campus, its whitewashed stone softened by lush green ivy and strings of white blooms draped artfully over the balustrades.
Like everything else the fae designed, it was breathtaking.
“Let’s go.” Kaia tugged her forward. A heavy set of black doors contrasted with the airy decor. Inside, conversation buzzed around them. Students from all over the academy mingled and laughed, the air rich with the fresh scent of flowers.
No one stopped to look in their direction.
Alaire stepped farther inside, letting the atmosphere seep into her bones. The weight of her thoughts melted away, replaced by a lightness she hadn’t realized she needed. Kaia grabbed her hand, laughing as she pulled her toward the heart of the atrium.
“Come on, let’s see if the human can let loose as well as she fights,” Kaia teased, her voice bright with excitement.
Alaire couldn’t help but smile back, catching the infectious joy and wild freedom. “I do nothing halfway.”
Many of the fae were dressed extravagantly—scraps of lace and silk, brocade jackets without shirts, and jewel tones that made the room feel alive. Everyone seemed delighted to wear something other than the academy’s black uniforms.
Whoever had organized the party had gone all out.
A dance floor stretched over the stone, and endless flowers cascaded across the arches—courtesy of earth wielders from House Arborstone.
Pergolas were draped with walls of falling vines, creating an illusion of privacy, while low moans of pleasure drifted from shadowy corners, proof that some guests were indulging in more than just dancing.
No sign of Dawson. Her breath loosened.
Across the room, a bar served drinks in blown-glass cups shaped like stars and flowers.
“Do they throw parties like this in Lyra?” Alaire asked, trying not to gape.
“Oh, they do,” Kaia replied, slowing as they neared the bar. “Ones that make this look like a child threw it together. It’s just… been a while since I’ve been to one.”
Alaire chewed her lip, noting the sudden tightness in Kaia’s posture. “We don’t have to stay. We can head back. I have a book calling my name.” She offered a small smile.