There’s a faint smirk on his face, directed my way as I lead her around the table before he holds out his hand. Reluctantly, I pass it to him, squeezing her fingers gently in reassurance.
The small power play from my brother irritates me more than I can say. But Selene only inclines her head in thanks as he pulls out her high-backed but plain chair.
Lifting the hem of her gown, she settles into the chair like a queen, her shoulders back and spine straight as her wings fold behind her. Immediately, I follow her lead, dropping into a chair on her other side in an attempt to hide her mistake.
Petyr stills. And throughout the hall—others sit too, settling into their own seats without waiting for their king as they normally would, leaving him standing alone. His lips press together before he slowly sits, his smirk replaced by a small, petulant frown.
We must be careful.
Chapter thirty-one
Selene
This is not a Caelumnai dress. It’s a dress from my childhood, the same kind of dress worn by Nyx and Celeste as they had rushed out of the bedroom door for midnight ceremonies at the Sanctum. For years, I buried myself under my covers in an attempt to hide my jealousy, only to fall asleep and wake with their arms wrapped tightly around me.
When Esme helped me into it, I felt strong. When I stepped out into the hall, I felt as though my sisters were with me.
Callan’s murmur is soft, unheard by anyone around us. “I do not believe we can be friends, you know. Not in that dress.”
My mouth twists into a flat line, the biting words hiding my hurt. “If you are so easily turned from your friends, then perhaps I am better off for it.”
Callan’s arm brushes mine, and I suppress a shiver. He is clad in a thinner, almost silken cream tunic. Plain, at least when compared to the finery that surrounds us, but I prefer it. My eyes seek out the way the material shifts against burnished goldbefore his words draw my attention back. “I am not so easily swayed. But friends do not wish to kiss the feet of their friends. At least, I have never wished to kiss Sol’s feet. Hopefully, he feels the same.Yours, however? I would crawl on broken glass to kiss those. I would do many, many things, and that blush in your cheeks would cover you all over long before I was finished.”
My toes curl against the cool stone floor. Thank Ellas, he can’t see them. I have no way to hide my flaming cheeks, though I take a drink from my glass to try anyway. “You should not say such things to me.”
“But I promised I would be honest.” His voice shifts from amusement to something that strokes over my skin like the silk adorning my body. “You have undone me with that dress, you know.”
“I know no such thing.” I take another sip of water, my lips twitching into the start of a smile. “It’s only a dress.”
Callan grins, almost boyishly. “I like you playing with me, Selene.”
I bite down on my growing amusement. “I do not know how to play your games.”
“And yet you seem to be learning at a remarkable pace.”
Thankfully, he sits back, taking his heat with him. I settle back, watching the crowd in front of us chatter and laugh from their seats at four long tables that run down the hall, conversation rising over the continued music that floats around the crowd. They seem happy enough despite their circumstances. Many of them glance up toward us as they talk, and I wonder how many conversations I am a part of. I catch sight of Matthias and Sol amongst the crowd at the furthest table to our left, Matthias murmuring and gesturing wildly with his hands as Sol listens, his brow furrowed.
The female that was seated in the second chair earlier approaches the table, gracefully dipping her head in responseto Petyr’s greeting and murmuring an apology for her lateness. Callan’s brother turns to me. “Selene, this is Wendlyn. My fiancée.”
I nod in response to her smile. Wendlyn studies my dress, but says nothing as she settles on Petyr’s other side. He raises her hand and kisses the back.
I’m distracted by the sight of servers, carrying huge plates of steaming, freshly cooked food. Several are placed in front of us. Petyr assesses them with a critical gaze before nodding. Frowning, I glance at Callan for an explanation.
His words are abrupt, his tone clipped. “Petyr always celebrates on the first night of our return with a feast.”
More platters are carried out, a seemingly endless number. “Surely there’s a platter for each person here.”
“More, even.” He sounds grim. Callan’s voice lowers as he glances past me, to where his brother speaks quietly to Wendlyn. “The court never goes without, but nights like this are little more than an excuse to pretend the issues we face aren’t happening. I make sure whatever is left over is sent to the town.”
There will be plenty. I sit quietly, assessing the crowd in front of me as they scrabble and grab for the trays, piling their plates high. When I blink, the tables waver. Replaced with lines of dark-winged faeytes, standing straight and tall as they face the doors and wait for the inevitable.
Nausea surges. And yet here I sit, amongst those who participated. They stare at me as a rarity, when I am only a rarity because of them.
What role do you wish me to play, Hala?
I had assumed to avenge my sisters, and be reunited with Nyx and Celeste in the attempt. But the punishment administered by the gods is more effective than any I could hope to deliver.
Is it enough? Am I now to save them?
