"Perfect," I say. "Tell me all of it."
She does. And I listen, and the tea goes cold, and outside the commons windows the academy light shifts toward evening, and somewhere in the rookery a dragon prince is sitting with charred wood in his hands and a history he carries alone, and somewhere down another corridor a vampire lord's heir is arranging for damaged wards to be quietly repaired, and I am here, in this room, with my best friend's voice keeping the afternoon from swallowing me whole.
Chapter 16
"You look like you're already planning your escape route," Sage says, adjusting the pin on my collar with the focused expression she uses when she's trying not to laugh.
"I'm always planning an escape route. It's called survival instinct." I check the mirror above her desk and immediately regret it. The Vampire House has a dress code for their formal balls that I can only describe as aggressively elegant. The gown is deep blue, borrowed from Sage's emergency wardrobe because mine, predictably, was shredded three days ago by something Seraphina's people did to my closet. It fits well enough. That's the best thing I can say about tonight.
"You look good," Sage says firmly.
"I look like someone who was dressed by committee."
"You look like someone who is going to walk into that ballroom and make three powerful men lose their concentration simultaneously." She steps back and surveys her work. "Which is its own kind of survival instinct, honestly."
"That's not reassuring."
"It wasn't meant to be." She squeezes my arm. "I'll be near the east corridor if anything goes sideways. Malik will be with me. Just get through the required dances and come find me."
Required dances. As if this is a normal social obligation and not an elaborate exercise in political maneuvering dressed up in candlelight and string music.
I go in alone.
The Vampire House ballroom is everything their aesthetic promises, which is to say it is stunning and slightly threatening, all black marble and silver fixtures and candelabras burning with pale blue flame. The ceiling is high enough to feel like standing at the bottom of a well, and the gathered students and invited guests fill the space with the kind of careful noise that comes from people who have been trained since childhood to be decorative and dangerous in equal measure.
I get approximately four steps inside before a glass of something dark red and sparkling appears in my peripheral vision, extended by a pale hand.
"It's wine," Caspian says. "Not blood. Though I understand the concern."
He's in black, naturally, because Caspian Thorne has clearly never owned anything in another color. The jacket fits him with the precision of something custom-made, and his red hair is swept back, and he looks like exactly what he is, which is a predator in formal wear at a party designed for his kind.
I take the glass. "Why are you near the door?"
"Waiting for you."
"That's not ominous at all."
"I thought transparency might be a refreshing change." His green eyes track across the room before settling back on me. "We're going to dance."
"Are we."
"House protocol. Vampire heir opens the formal dances with each of the honored guests. You're in the house roster whether you like it or not." He extends his other hand. "Don't make it strange."
"You extending your hand to me is already strange. You're usually trying to make my life worse."
"I'm multifaceted." The corner of his mouth moves. "Come on."
I put my hand in his and he leads me to the floor, and the music shifts to something slow and precise, and he settles one hand at my waist with the practiced ease of someone who has done this several hundred times and finds it unremarkable. I find it deeply markable, but I don't say that.
We move. He's a good dancer, which is somehow the least surprising thing about him.
"You're tense," he says.
"You just told me we were dancing and gave me approximately zero seconds to process that."
"Would more time have helped?"
"No. But the principle stands." I keep my posture straight because the room is full of people watching and I am not going to give them anything to work with. "What did you mean, waiting for me?"
