Chapter 35 #3
They decided to split up to cover more ground. Alaire drifted through the crowd, striking up light conversation with members of House Arborstone. Each polite smile yielded scraps of gossip, fragments she hoped would help expose what lay beneath the Consortium’s polished veneer.
On her way to the bar for water, a smooth, melodic voice called her name. “Your Majesty, Alaire. May I request the honor of a dance?”
She turned. A towering fae stood before her, hand extended. Blonde curls brushed his collar, blue eyes shining.
Caelan Rive of House Aqualis. His full lips curled into a smile.
He wasn’t part of tonight’s plan. But as a high-ranking flier and member of House Aqualis, as Archer had said, it would be foolish to refuse. A dance was a small price to pay for a potential ally.
“Caelan,” she greeted, placing her hand in his. His grip was warm, steady. “An honor.”
“The honor is mine.” His voice dropped for her ears alone. “I’ve been eager to meet you.”
“And let me guess… my phoenix?” She arched a brow, testing his intentions.
He chuckled, a deep, rich sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “I’d be remiss to begin with a lie. A resurfaced Celestial Familiar is undeniably intriguing. But it’s you who holds my interest.” His gaze met hers.
He was charming—she’d give him that—with an undeniable magnetism about him.
Caelan led her onto the dance floor, guiding her with quiet confidence, hand firm at her waist as he steered her through turns that made her skirts flare. She could feel the contained strength in his movements.
The world blurred in colors and melody. His breath brushed her temple as the music swelled and he drew closer.
Her body hummed at his proximity. She couldn’t deny the pull. Few could.
Yet the weight of his hand failed to elicit the same heat as Dawson’s.
And she hated herself for letting her thoughts drift back to him.
He was gods knew where when Caelan was right here.
Dawson would always bend to the whims of the Consortium, to what was expected of him. That much was clear. And that was something she could not—would not—do.
Secrets and lies. That was what Dawson chose to protect.
She would never play by their rules. If the Consortium was conspiring to hide the bloodravagers, there was no telling what else they kept buried. Tonight was about beginning to find out.
If Dawson wanted to keep playing the prodigal son, that was his choice. He’d promised they’d work together to uncover how the bloodravagers breached campus. Yet every time she brought it up, he shut her down.
I’m done doing this his way .
No matter how much he seemed to care.
She swallowed down the memory of him watching over her in the infirmary and focused instead on Elodie’s screams. The piercing cry as Captain Verran dragged her away. Elodie was one of thousands whose fate had been left to the careless whims of the fae.
No. More.
The idea of her and Dawson was nothing more than a fruitless wish on a star. She’d learned the hard way that dreams didn’t come true.
“I couldn’t help but overhear part of your conversation with Dexter earlier.”
“Oh?”
“You’ve made some sort of arrangement with the Consortium?”
“I did,” she said, glancing at the couples spinning around them. Better to let word spread that the Consortium had offered her and Solflara protection—it legitimized their position amongst the nobility.
He tucked a loose strand back into her hair clip. “You should know you have options once you complete your education.”
Her head snapped back. Of all the things he could’ve said, that was not what she expected. “Options? I’m not sure what you mean.”
“House Aqualis believes the Consortium could use a… fresh perspective. We could offer you a formal alliance—resources, connections, protection. Support to help reform the system from within.”
Alaire couldn’t ignore the lure of his words. She longed for a fresh start, to leave Cielore and everything else behind.
She treasured the offer for what it was—an olive branch. Potential allies were rare. Forging a connection with House Aqualis was progress.
As the music ended, he bowed and kissed her knuckles. “Thank you for the dance, Alaire. I hope it’s the first of many.”
She watched him walk away, unable to form a reply. Handsome, kind, warm—Caelan was all of it. But she couldn’t help wondering if she was convincing herself to look elsewhere because the one she truly wanted was already out of reach.
She barely caught her breath before another suitor tapped her shoulder.
“Alaire, might I have the next dance?” a familiar voice asked.
She spun with a smile. Archer stood in a deep bow. “Of course.”
Kaia was nowhere to be found.
Archer led her out confidently, moving with effortless poise. His posture was flawless, steps perfectly timed to the rhythm. Candlelight turned his red hair to a rich auburn. His eyes swept the ballroom even as their steps never faltered.
When the song ended, Kaia appeared with a toothy grin. “My turn.” She nudged Archer aside.
“She’s all yours,” he said, eyes glittering at Kaia’s infectious mood.
The three of them alternated dances throughout the evening, laughter rising in its own off-beat crescendo. Alaire’s scarlet gown blurred as they twirled and spun across the floor.
With each dance, she felt the weight on her chest lift. In that moment, all that mattered was joy with the people she adored most.
After hours, the floor was cleared for the grand event at midnight.
Human staff ushered guests away. A man with a closely shaved head stepped into the center. A spotlight caught his commanding frame. He wore a pinstriped ensemble with shoes polished so bright they reflected the light.
Max Aster, Premiere Lord of House Cerebral. He raised one hand, and the room fell into hushed silence. Max’s rich voice carried throughout the chamber.
“Honored guests, tonight we gather at the Celestial Cascade Ball, when the veil between our world and eternal darkness is thinnest. House Cerebral is privileged to present this tribute to Umbra before the midnight celebration.”
Applause rang out.
Max flicked his hands, and the spotlight soared to the arched ceiling. A breathtaking illusion unfolded, timed to the orchestra’s swells and falls: stars burst into existence, then faded to void, dissolving into the peaceful lull of darkness.
“Umbra is the god of death, darkness, and introspection,” Max intoned.
“Tonight we embrace the darkness to uncover hidden knowledge, to explore the mysteries of existence, and to accept the inevitability of death and transformation. Let this celebration remind us of beauty and power within the shadows. May we always seek the light in the dark—and find wisdom in the unknown.”
As the illusion faded, applause thundered.
Max bowed. “The Stardust Waltz will begin shortly. Please enjoy the rest of your evening.”
From across the room, Alaire caught Dexter standing stiffly by a pillar, lips twisted in a displeased line. Clearly, he wasn’t a fan of Max.
Interesting.
Tonight reminded her Dawson wasn’t the only one playing a game of secrets and lies. She’d been playing all along, the odds stacked against her.
Her fingers brushed her mother’s ring, feeling its weight. Maybe we’re all just players in someone else’s game, thinking we’re the ones moving the pieces.
But as she remembered Caelan’s offer of partnership and watched Dexter’s scowl, she knew one thing for certain: she played to win.