Unfamiliar faces occupied most of the chairs, but among them I recognized a few. On the High Lord’s left sat Cercies, three captains, four nobles and their mates, as well as Prisca and Rexius. On his right sat seven crimson-robed males, and at the very end, one open seat remained.
A fire sprite zipped by. I managed to stop her and asked if she could add a chair next to mine. In a matter of seconds, four fire sprites added an additional chair and place setting. The rapid movement of their embers caught the attention of the guests, heads turning as Calpurnia and I gracefully joined the party—arms linked, wearing cheerful faces.
Cercies’ eyes lit up when he saw her, putting the moon to shame. He stood immediately—though I don’t think he meant to. He didn’t seem to have much control of his body in her presence. His impulsive reaction made my friend blush; she turned into me to hide her beaming smile as she giggled. Her sequined gown refracted the retiring sun’s glow, creating a small aura of sparkles that danced with her every movement.
I didn’t miss the burning glare Titus threw me as we found our seats. I didn’t care that I wasn’t seated next to him, but I did find it odd. As his future mate, I had always been positioned close to him. However, after his stunt this afternoon with Cercies, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be near him ever again.
He shouted down the table in his most pompous voice. “Tell me, mortal—Is it customary where you come from for a guest to bring a guest?”
A dull roar of chuckles rolled down the table and stopped at Cercies. The General’s face was stone-still, fixated on his mate. He clearly didn’t find any humor in Titus’s jab.
Mortal? Really?
I don’t know why the word irked me. Maybe because I’d assumed after the lounge, we werepastthat. For whatever reason, he seemed to enjoy putting me down and pushing me away in front of his guests and nobles. Did he regret what happened? Fine by me—I was upset with him anyway for losing his temper and nearly killing my friend’s mate.
What was all of that, anyway? His behavior ever since I tried to escape had been all over the place.
I sensed a spike in Calpurnia’s heart rate and saw the worry in her eyes. I hated that Titus made her feel uncomfortable.
I opened my mouth to tell him off, but before I could, Cercies cut in.
“SHE STAYS!” the General announced, his tone a touch too aggressive, never once breaking his gaze from his mate.
Sparks began to flicker on Titus’s shoulders. His knuckles turned white around his wine goblet. Realizing how disrespectful he’d been to his High Lord in front of noble guests, Cercies immediately rephrased and bowed his head. “I request that she stay, My Lord.”
The two friends locked eyes for several heated moments.
Then Titus’s flames dissipated. His grip loosened.
To my surprise, a muscle ticked in the High Lord’s jaw, and a flicker of remorse flashed across his expression—so briefly I was sure no one else caught it. But I did.
I didn’t think the High Lord was capable of such feelings. I knew what that look was for. He felt guilty about earlier—about almost killing his friend.
Titus nodded to the General in silent approval. The tension dissipated, replaced by trivial conversations among the guests.
The crimson-robed males didn’t smile. They measured. And I wondered if maybe they were the audience Titus was performing for.
Calpurnia and I kept to ourselves as we enjoyed an array of appetizers. I reached for the gold goblet set out for each guest, excited for Faerie wine, and quickly took a sip.
Fucking water.
Calpurnia had wine. Everyone had Faerie wine except for me.
I threw a glare at Titus. He was obviously waiting for my reaction. He raised his glass in a mocking “cheers,” his expression smug. I narrowed my eyes and took another sip. That was the only interaction I had with him. Throughout dinner he mostly ignored me, didn’t look my way once, like I didn’t matter at all.
But I didn’t let that stop me from enjoying Calpurnia’s company. We were in our own little world at the end of the crescent table. She explained who the nobles were, what they did, and who slept with whose mate—on and on. She was the gossip queen and seemed to know everyone’s secrets.
I tried my best to stay engaged, but I started to get swallowed by a sudden emptiness. I hated that Titus could make me feel this way, so insignificant, so worthless.
The show began with a single, piercing trumpet call. Thousands cheered from the city below. From the massive mountain hangars, a legion of dragons, scales the color of polished obsidian and molten lava, surged into the air. The sound of a hundred leathery wings beating the atmosphere into submission was a thunderous roar that every observer could feel in their chest.
In tight V-shaped formations, the dragons and their riders climbed, catching the strong upper currents. Suddenly, the lead dragons—at a silent command from their riders—peeled off, initiating a synchronized display of impossible aerial maneuvers. They wove through the sky in a complex, flowing dance, their movements mirroring a seasoned troupe, yet executed at terrifying speeds.
And from a close formation, a sole dragon and rider gallantly emerged.
Zephyros—the only dragon with blue and green hues, flew straight up, past the clouds, until she was no longer visible. Then theMaster of Dragons and Zephyros burst through the cloud line, free-falling, nose-diving back to earth and sending the crowd into panicked gasps as they plummeted closer and closer to the ground.
My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. Time seemed to stand still. I could hardly watch.
