When he finally uncrossed his arms and started toward me, Cami followed.
“Now you come back, my dear, and I’ll brew my finest roast,” she said, her eyes alight with warmth.
I bit my lip, nodding in thanks. Rhodes brushed past to hold the door open, but I turned back before following him out.
My fingers tangled together restlessly. “Earlier, you said I would be the one to help save your boys. Who does Shayde need saving from?”
Cami’s gaze flicked to Rhodes. He met my eyes silently before stepping outside and shutting the door to give us privacy.
Cami reached for my hands, steadying them in her own. “Shayde wasn’t touched by the Seer or bound by some ancient curse,” she said softly. “But he’s in danger of losing himself all the same. And that’s where you come in. I need your help saving him… from himself.”
Chapter 49
The tempo of the music pulsed in time with the euphoria in my soul.
We did it.
Weactuallydid it.
All that was left was to slip past the party, grab our cloaks, and disappear into the night.
We crossed the overpass above the ballroom when I felt someone’s gaze cut through the haze of celebration. An older woman in a vibrant blue ruffled dress eyed me from head to toe, her lip curling in disdain. With a flick of her wrist, she snapped open her matching paper fan and leaned to whisper something to the woman beside her, judgment practically dripping off her.
Before I could fire off a clever remark, Shayde swept me off my feet—literally.
I yelped as he hoisted me into his arms, one beneath my knees, the other supporting my back.
He shot the ladies a smug grin. “Too much to drink, this one.”
Only then did I realize I was still barefoot—and he was still carrying my shoes.
My arms looped around his neck for support, though I didn’t need it, as he carried me down the grand staircase with surprising care. At the base, he set me gently on a velvet settee tucked into an alcove.
My gaze drifted to the dance floor, where guests in shimmering gowns spun in circles, laughter and music weaving together like a spell. Shayde knelt before me, slipping my heels back on just as he had before.
He followed my line of sight, then glanced up at me, his voice low and tentative.
“Do you want to—?”
But I missed the rest of his question. Over Shayde’s shoulder, descending the grand staircase like a ghost woven from silk and shadow, was the Grim.
Cora Reyes.
She wore a luxurious dark green gown, its layered skirt shimmering with each step—chiffon, velvet, something metallic I couldn’t name. The hem whispered against the marble stairs, hiding her feet as if she floated.
Intricate stitching crawled up the bodice in the shape of tree branches, delicate leaves sprawling across the fabric until they vanished into the halter neckline. The design made her look ancient and alive, as though she belonged to the forest instead of this ballroom.
She wore no mask. But even if she had, I would recognize her anywhere.
My breath caught—not from shock, but from the deep, burning hatred lodged in my chest. My hands clenched into thefolds of my dress as I watched her descend the stairs like she believed herself a goddess.
At the bottom, a tall man in a perfectly tailored suit, also unmasked, waited with his hand outstretched. He helped her down the last steps like they were royalty. Or worse—invincible.
Shayde’s grip clamped around my upper arms as he tried to turn me away. I resisted.
“Damn it,” he muttered.
He turned his back to them, blocking my view, but I could still see their shapes in the periphery. My fury shifted, sharp and unwavering, into his chest.
