Waiting for someone.
Finally, the door opened. A white-haired man entered, his expression carefully neutral. I noted little else about his appearance—the vision seemed to be blurring many details out—save for one other thing: The golden pin he wore, which was shaped like a circle with a sword cutting through it. White gemstones adorned the top half of the circle, while black ones lined the bottom.
“Master Gareth,” Lorien said, straightening. “Did you deliver my message to Calista? When will she arrive?”
Gareth slowly closed the door behind him. “I’m afraid Lady Calista won’t be coming, Lorien.”
“What? Why not? Is she unwell?” Concern flooded Lorien’s face. He moved toward the door. “I should go to her?—”
“She’s perfectly well.” Gareth’s voice stopped him mid-step. “She simply...declined your invitation.”
Lorien frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. We were supposed to meet three days ago, and she never came. I’ve sent four messages since then?—”
“All of which she received.” Gareth pulled a folded letter from his robes, holding it out. “She asked me to deliver this to you. I’m sorry, Lorien. I truly am.”
With slightly trembling hands, Lorien took the letter. I watched his face as he read, saw the color draining from his cheeks.
“No,” he whispered. “No, this can’t be right.”
“I’m afraid it’s her handwriting, is it not?”
“Yes, but…” Lorien stared at the letter, his throat working. “She says she’s chosen to join Argoth at his court in the northern territories. That he’s offered her…” He trailed off, seemingly unable to force the words out. He tried several more times to read it out loud before giving up and crumpling the paper in his hand instead.
“I’m sorry,” Gareth repeated, his tone oozing false sympathy. “I know how much she meant to you.”
“She wouldn’t abandon me for that power-hungry mortal king,” Lorien said, but his voice wavered with uncertainty. “She wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t she?” Gareth paused deliberately. “You told me she’s been spending a lot of time visiting his northern stronghold.”
“For political reasons. She was investigating reports of unrest in the region, monitoring the balance between Light and Shadow?—”
Gareth shrugged. The gesture was far too casual, almost cruel. “It seems there was something more to these visits than her Vaeloran duties.”
Lorien sank into a chair, the letter still clutched in his hand. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then: “I want to see her. Talk to her face to face.”
“I don’t think that’s wise.”
Lorien’s voice hardened. “I don’t care what you think is wise.”
Gareth studied him for a moment, then shrugged again. “Very well. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when it all comes crashing down.” There was a gleam of anticipation in the man’s dark eyes, I thought. As if he would have been all too happy to see it all come crashing down.
Lorien didn’t seem to notice it; he was already gathering his coat and heading for the door.
The scene shifted.
Lorien stood in the shadows of an opulent ballroom, looking entirely out of place in travelers’ garb and dirty boots, like some common wanderer who’d clearly snuck in through a side door. The room before him glittered with candlelight and the jewels of Soltaris’s elite. Music and laughter—much of it fake and high-pitched—filled the air.
And there, at the center of attention, was Calista.
She wore a gown of midnight blue that seemed to shimmer with captured starlight. Her dark hair was swept up, adorned with a delicate silver headpiece. And on her left hand, catching the light with every movement, was a black diamond ring. There were black diamonds along the bottom of several of the banners hanging throughout the hall, too; it must have been a symbol of Argoth’s royal house.
Beside her stood a man who commanded the room without seeming to try. King Argoth himself. He was handsome in a cold, precise way—sharp features, calculating eyes, a smile that never quite reached those eyes. I could see features he shared with Aleks, even though they were several generations removed fromone another, and the resemblance made my chest feel tight. He held Calista’s hand possessively, speaking to a circle of nobles who hung on his every word.
The more I studied the way Calista stood next to him, the more I couldn’t help thinking she seemed…diminished, somehow. Her smile was perfect but empty. Her posture was immaculate but rigid. And her eyes—usually so bright and blazing—seemed distant. Hollow.
“Something’s wrong,” Lorien muttered, taking a step forward.
He pushed through the crowd, jostling several people aside and ignoring their indignant protests and sharp gasps of offense.
