Chapter 15
Dorian
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“Okay, this is goingto be fine. Dinner, let them make some verbal jabs, and go back home. We can do this,” Cambria rambles nervously, fisting the skirt of her dress.
Despite the fact of why she needs to wear it, she looks stunning. Her entire back is exposed along with her sides. The front is held up by a thin clasp behind her neck and at her waist, it flares out down to the floor. The swirls of blues and purples match her hair perfectly and the twining ivy pattern over it screamsfae.
The rest of us are in charcoal dress pants and light blue, button up, long sleeve shirts. We decided it would be more of an insult to come dressed to the nines as if we belonged to the same station as anyone in attendance, playing into their bigotry for simplicity’s sake. This isn’t the time to try to change an entire society’s structure and fight for equality; not when all it would accomplish is Cambria getting hurt.
A fight for another day, if we live through this one.
“Of course we can.”
I steal her hand and place a quick kiss over the mark on the back that I’ve realized by now is mine. I can’t help the possessive thrill it sends through me, despite the horrific way it came about. But this magical, gorgeous girl is everything I didn’t know I was waiting for, and while I can’t offer her much, I can offer her this small comfort.
We left early since we had to walk the whole way. Despite Lucien offering to pay for the magical equivalent of a cab, Cambria just laughed. ‘No one is going to rent to me and my humans, Luce. They’d sooner roll us off of a cliff,’ she claimed. So fifteen mile trek in formal wear, super fun.
We arrive outside of the wrought iron gates, and I pause. “Okay, so is the fae and iron thing bullshit, or is that a super effective fence at keeping people out?”
She smirks. “Bullshit. Humans just can’t stand thinking they have no protection against something stronger than them. So they make shit up so they can sleep at night, trusting in false securities. Like garlic and vampires, how dumb is that?”
Atlas grabs her arm as she starts to walk away and swings her around to face him. “Hold the fuck up, those are real too?”
A laugh bubbles out of her throat that I commit to memory, knowing I won’t hear that any more once we pass through those gates.
“No, my sweet human.” She pats his cheek condescendingly. “The only monsters that go bump at all hours of the day and night are us. Fae come in more forms than you want to know; some with blood fetishes, and others that can transform their bodies. We’re your werewolves and vampires, your witches and boogeymen.” Her humor dies off as shadows overtake her silver irises. “Monsters in pretty packages.” It’s gone just as quickly as it arrived and she forces extra pep into her step. “So let’s get this over with, yeah?”
I share a look with the others, following her towards the gate as she slips her invitation through the bars towards one of the guards. He looks down at it and snorts.
“As if we wouldn’t recognize you on sight,” he scoffs. “Open the gates,” he calls, sounding bored.
At least he doesn’t sound hostile.
What previously appeared as a stone castle morphs the second we pass some invisible barrier at the gate line. An illusion, but I couldn’t fathom why. If the fae love to flaunt their superiority, wouldn’t they rather show it off than conceal it?
Lucien mirrors my sentiments and asks her as much. All the while she’s looking around at the magical sight in disgust.
“I told you guys, nearly everything you see in this world is fake, nothing but illusions. Glamour and such can only extend so far and the sight you saw outside of the gates is the real thing. the illusion only covers the property because it takes so much power to maintain.”
The stone castle is now solid white instead of grey and flowers of every color wrap around the exterior on vines. Even the air seems to shimmer, like the world itself is breathing life into everything. It’s picture perfect, with a vast courtyard on one side and a lake on the other. A stone path leads from the gate to the front door in multicolored stones, pristine and glinting in the sunlight, as if dirt doesn’t dare sully a single thing here.
Guards fall into formation to escort us to the door and I watch Cambria deflate more with each step. I don’t reach for her hand despite wanting to offer her comfort, knowing it would do more harm than good for her right now. I just hate it.
“Cambria Alina Lark,” a feminine voice states, the sound wrapping around me and begging me to turn to her, to find her.
A tall, slender woman with straight, blonde hair halfway down her back is stepping through the doors at the top of the stairs, flanked by several guards. She’s wrapped in a skin tight, emerald dress that matches her eyes, the straps from her silver sandals lacing up to her thighs.
