No, I decide. I’m done being manipulated and I'm not going to let some stranger's cryptic warnings get under my skin.
VY ARRIVES AT MY DOOR EARLY the next morning with news of my dance lessons.
Stepping out into the hallway, I pull the door shut behind me, gesturing for Vy to lead the way. Sunlight streams through the tall arched windows, warming the cool white stone, and soon the strange womanand her riddles have begun to fade like a half-remembered dream. Pieces of my soul, missing. I shake my head. The words feel foolish in the daylight.
I trail behind Vy down the winding corridors of the Arc until we arrive at a lounge area I haven't seen before—a spacious room with high ceilings and tall windows that frame views of the gardens.
Vy moves aside, revealing a blond male with shoulder-length wavy hair and striking teal eyes lounging in one of the chairs. I recognize him immediately.
"Laïna, this is Reü." They give Reü a small bow, but Reü doesn’t bother to acknowledge them. Vy’s lips press into a thin line. Turning toward me, they go on. “Reü is one of our very best dancers, and he has happily agreed to teach you in preparation for the ball.” They give me a smile and back away.
“Happily agreed,” Reü repeats in a mock voice. “They make it sound as if I actually had a choice in the matter.” Leaning back in his chair, he cocks his head and gives me a slow, deliberate once-over, disapproval etched on his face. He says no more, but the silence is heavy with unspoken criticism, and it’s a fight not to shrink under his judgmental gaze.
“Very well. Maybe if you learn how to dance, your appearances will be more tolerable.” He pushes himself to his feet. “Though I doubt you’ll ever be anything but a mouse,” he says, flipping my ash-brown braid as he passes me.
I scowl at his back. Is he always such an asshole? It makes me wonder why I ever felt sympathy for him. All I want right now is to palm one of my daggers and flip it at Reü’s back the way Vilder has been teaching me. But I don’t. Instead, I drag my feet after him down the corridor to the grand doors of the ballroom.
“Everything all right, Laïna?”
It’s Vilder, Seniia by his side. The two of them step out from one of the many archways lining the corridor. She wears her robe, staff in hand, but judging by Vilder’s sweat-soaked outfit and the twin swordsstrapped to his back, he just had sparring practice. Again, it hits me that as much as they spend time together, there’s no way he dislikes her as much as he pretends.
I glance at Reü, who narrows his eyes at me, daring me to complain. “Everything’s fine,” I say, though the words come out hollow.
Vilder levels a loaded stare at Reü. “You better treat her with respect, M’Garan.”
“What about you minding your own business, Aken?” Reü leans back against the wall, a bored expression on his face.
With predatory grace, Vilder stalks toward Reü, whose easy stance against the wall stiffens into an alert, upright position. Planting his hands on the wall on either side of Reü, caging him in, he brings his face within an inch of Reü’s, fixing him with a direct stare. “Careful who you pick your fights with.” His voice, though soft, holds a chilling promise of violence.
I hold my breath as they stare each other down. “Vilder, it’s fine. Really.” I don’t want him to get hurt because of me.
Reü finally drops his gaze. “Why do you care, anyway? Reansarebetter. We are descendants of Rea and Wyr. We should be servants of no one, least of all a human.” He shoots me a look of pure disdain.
Seniia rolls her eyes. “Void, Reü. You may not like the humans, but you sure sound just like one. All focus on bloodlines, believing birthright determines ability to rule.” She throws an apologetic glance in my direction. “No offense.” She looks back at Reü. “Just because you are the keeper’s nephew doesn’t make you better than anyone else, you know.”
Vilder nods. “The gods bestow power upon those they deem worthy.” Pushing off the wall, he turns his back on Reü. “There’s no reason to be an ass just because Niia didn’t grantyoumuch.”
Reü stares at Vilder’s back, his jaw tight, a furious expression etched on his face. With a growl, in one swift motion, he pulls his dagger and hurls it at Vilder.
“Vilder!” I scream, squeezing my eyes shut.
When I open them again, Vilder is holding the dagger by its hilt. There’s a menacing glare, like a predator sizing up its prey, on his face. “I warned you who to pick your fights with, M’Garan, didn’t I?”
“Perhaps the gods are mistaken,” Reü hisses, the words forced out between gritted teeth.
Vilder scoffs. “Knowing you, I think not.”
“Power is gifted to us so that we can protect those who cannot protect themselves, Reü,” Seniia says, shaking her head. “It is not gifted to us for personal gain or for us to exploit power.” She gives him an intense stare. “You of all should know better than to treat someone with disrespect just because they are weaker than you.”
Reü clenches his fists, his knuckles bone-white. His face looks as if it’s on its way to bursting, but he says nothing.
Vilder gives him a smirk. “That’s a valid point. You should consider it.”
“You are underestimating me. You both are.”
A wave of unease washes over me at the chilling undertone to his voice.
Vilder all but rolls his eyes. “Somehow, I believe you are impossible to underestimate.”
