Chapter 35 #2
Power was his drug of choice. The way he leaned in slightly to punctuate a point said everything: he had no intention of loosening his grip on that addiction.
“Al, Archer wants a drink. You coming?”
She shook her head. “I have something to do first. I’ll meet you at the bar.”
Kaia’s puzzled look shifted as Alaire tipped her head toward Dexter.
While Archer greeted an acquaintance, Kaia leaned closer. “Be careful.”
“Aren’t I always?”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she muttered before tugging Archer toward the bar.
Lifting her skirts, Alaire crossed the floor toward the man who embodied everything she despised about the fae.
“Chief Advisor Dexter,” she greeted smoothly. “How lovely to see you again.”
Dexter’s eyes narrowed, then shifted into accomplished charm for his audience. “Alaire Vallorian.” His gaze trailed down the skin revealed by her gown. “You look radiant tonight.”
Immediately, she wanted to scrub off the filthy film his gaze left. Disgusting .
She canted her head, smile polished. Alaire had no taste for petty court games, but Archer had drilled into her that if she wanted access to the nobility, she’d need a mask she could wear with ease. For hours, she’d practiced a smile that met his standards.
“Thank you. I’ve heard about the Celestial Cascade Ball for years. Truly, it’s a sight to behold.”
“Indeed,” Dexter said, tone polite but guarded. Smart man. “The organizers outdid themselves. It would be my pleasure to point out some of the unique details.”
“I’d be honored.” Her expression softened into feigned innocence, though her stomach twisted at the role she was forced to play. “From what I’ve heard, House Aetheris had a significant hand in preparations. Your leadership is evident.”
He extended an arm.
Don’t flinch .
She rested her fingers lightly against his sleeve.
Flattery, it seemed, would get her everywhere.
“We did our part.” Pride curved his self-satisfied smile. “Always a pleasure to serve the Consortium.”
He guided them toward a less crowded corner of the ballroom. Instantly, she pulled away, turning to face him.
“Speaking of contributions,” she said, subtly raising her voice, “I’ve heard rumors of growing conflict within the Consortium. If you’ve promised me protection, it’s only natural such whispers would spark hesitation on my end.”
“Rumors spread easily, often without basis.” Dexter’s eyes flicked across the room.
“True,” Alaire admitted. “But sometimes they hold kernels of truth. One can’t help but wonder whether such allegations might weaken our alliance—or if it would be honored at all under such derision.”
In truth, there were no rumors. But Alaire knew fae like Dexter: his loyalty shifted like the wind, always chasing the current that promised him the most gain. Let’s see who he scuttles off to .
“Alliances are forged for the prosperity of House Aetheris, to ensure our place as the epitome of Elithian society.” Two lines puckered between his brows.
“Of course,” Alaire said in a placating tone. “Navigating such complexities must be a burden.”
“One must do what’s necessary for stability and progress.” He inclined his head, expression inscrutable.
“And for power?” she asked lightly.
“Power is a means to an end, Alaire.” His eyes hardened.
“And what end do you seek, Dexter?” She leaned in slightly.
His gaze dipped down the V of her gown. Ew .
“Ensuring the continued success of House Aetheris.” His lips curved upward.
She noted his careful wording—tying everything back to the well-being of his house rather than the truth: he cared only for his own advancement.
“Everyone in society has their role to play.”
They both knew it was a dig at humans. To the Consortium and their mouthpieces, people like her were beasts meant to serve, sweat, and bleed for the fae.
Rage clawed at her chest.
Keep it together. Don’t punch him in the face .
“An end that sees you in a position of power, I imagine.” Her smile was sweet, words barbed.
“Ambition drives us all. Surely you understand that.” For an instant, his eyes flashed with naked hunger before he masked it again.
“I do,” Alaire said, stepping back to put space between them. “But how one pursues ambition makes all the difference. It’s a delicate balance.”
“A delicate balance indeed.” His expression frosted over. “Those who upset that balance often find themselves in precarious situations—especially with few alliances of their own.”
She recognized the veiled threat. “Don’t worry. I’ve always been quite good at staying on my feet.” She crossed her arms.
Dexter narrowed his eyes. “For an heir who rules no kingdom and has no intention of doing so, you always manage to stand in the eye of the storm. As if you’re drawn to power, even while claiming to eschew it.”
She dug her nails into her arms. “I have no desire for a crown, Dexter.” She used his name as Archer had instructed—to unsettle him. “But I understand the weight of responsibility and the price of ambition.” Her eyes flashed with irritation.
Dexter studied her for a long moment, hostility thick between them. “Enjoy the evening, Alaire . Best of luck on your last trial. You’ll need it.”
Her smile didn’t falter. “I’ll keep that in mind. Though I suspect it’s not luck you should be counting on. Enjoy your evening.”
As he turned to schmooze other courtiers, Alaire dropped her smile, resisting the urge to shake off his presence. At least she’d gleaned one thing: not everything was as the Consortium presented.
Dexter was under pressure. It was minute, a crack—but one she could widen with time. The question was how far he’d go to secure power. And who could guarantee it to him? At what cost?
From the corner of her eye, she caught Professor Ross near the orchestra, still watching. A couple passed between them, breaking her line of sight.
What’s his deal?
She pushed the thought aside. Right now, she needed to find Kaia and Archer.
Navigating through the crowd, she slipped out one of the double doors to the balconies. Cool evening air kissed her skin. Floating lanterns mingled with the stars above. Ivy wound along the railing, climbing the stone walls and weaving through clusters of colorful blossoms.
She craned her neck, searching. At the far side of the courtyard, groups of fae giggled, murmuring as they turned over cards in their palms.
Turning to rest against the railing, she collided with someone, nearly losing her balance. Strong hands steadied her.
Archer’s face loomed close, concern etched in his features. “Alaire, do you need a moment to collect yourself?”
Kaia stood at his side, brow furrowed. “You look pale. Everything okay?”
Alaire nodded.
“Shall we head back inside? The evening is still quite youthful,” Archer said.
Inside, they returned to the bar. Archer handed her a drink. “It’s strong. You require it.”
She took a tentative sip. Bitterness hit her tongue first—sharp, biting—before undertones of oak lingered and twisted, burning a fiery path down her throat.
She turned to Kaia. “Want to try it?”
Kaia gave the glass a long, sideways glance. Her fists clenched in the fabric of her dress. “No, thanks. I’m good.”
Alaire set the drink aside and hooked her arms through theirs, pulling them into a secluded alcove.
Her gaze softened as she looked at her friends. Kaia’s optimism and warmth countered Alaire’s mercurial—and occasionally violent—tendencies, while Archer’s unwavering decorum provided a steady foundation for their trio.
That night in Kaia’s room, when they’d first plotted, she’d shared everything with them: Professor Ross’s mysterious files and refusal to explain, the burned sigils in the grass, the Consortium’s lies about the bloodravagers.
“We need to talk about Dexter,” Alaire said.
“What happened?” Kaia asked.
Alaire recounted their exchange, his thinly veiled threats, his desperation to secure power. Archer pinched the bridge of his nose, while Kaia’s brow furrowed.
“Dexter’s desperate,” Alaire concluded. “His interest in Dawson can’t be entirely genuine.
I’d wager he’d like to see himself seated as Premiere Lord of House Aetheris.
The Chief Advisor wields considerable power in Cielore, but he isn’t royalty.
New players on the board are opportunities to advance.
He’ll sacrifice anyone—anything—to get there. Except his son.”
When she’d first arrived, all she’d wanted was to know why Professor Ross had plucked her from Grimstone and offered her a place at Aeris Academy. The files validated her instincts. Learning she was Vallorian proved she’d been right. Solflara confirmed her magic had been bound, her memories erased.
But the answers had only led to more questions—and possibilities she’d never considered.
Yet Kaia’s words from after her meeting in Headmaster Carth’s office echoed in her mind: You could be a bridge between two world s.
She’d never wanted to rule, but while uncovering her own truths, she would help bring change however she could.
And her friends, who knew the risks, had vowed to stand with her.
Kaia’s eyes widened. “What are you going to do?”
Alaire leaned back against the wall, gaze drifting to the couples sweeping across the dance floor. “I’m not trying to upend the Consortium. But Elithian is rotted from the inside out. Things need to change. They cannot stay the same. Dexter’s as good a place to start as any.”
“Perhaps we can use his ambition against him,” Kaia mused.
“Exactly,” Alaire said with a smile. “And Archer, your knowledge of court politics will be invaluable in tracking his next moves now that we’ve baited him with talk of cracks in Consortium leadership.”
His expression was resolute. “I’ll assist in whatever way I can. You know that.”
Kaia laid a reassuring hand on Alaire’s shoulder. “We’ll figure this out somehow. You aren’t alone in this, Al.”
Archer smiled warmly. “Indeed. With such esteemed company, what challenges could elude us?”