But there wasn’t enough illusion magic in all of Eurobis to truly make it so.
The masquerade was stunning.If only I could have appreciated it. It was set on a lush rooftop garden I hadn’t even known existed. Plants of every shape and size dotted the space, giving a feeling of intimacy despite the massive scale. Everyone wore masks, be it simple black dominoes or more ornate ones with feathers and beads.
I’d arrived alone, with two soldiers as escorts. The party was underway; Raphael was already here. If I told myself he’d gone to avoid being rude instead of to avoid me, it might have stung less. If I knew anything, he was watching now, closely, but it hurt too much to let myself seek him out.
Clearly, his theory about the fledgling bond was right. I hadn’t felt a twinge of pain even though I’d been at least two thousand paces from him.
Maybe it was finally gone. Once I returned to Damerel, I could take the grimoire and leave.
The thought had me plucking a goblet of blood mead from a server as they passed.
I took a long pull, the taste even worse than usual. It sat heavy in my cheeks, in stark relief against the bliss that came from Raphael’s blood.
I told myself I didn’t care. I took another sip.
There was a time not so long ago I would never have considered indulging like this. But I craved something that would settle the jagged feeling in my chest.
And despite it all, with him here, I was safe. Nothing would happen to me with him watching, even if we were fighting.
I might never get that luxury again once I left.
Quick-paced string pieces projected across the roof, and all around me, people danced. In contrast to my bleak mood, there were smiles. The perimeter seemed like a better place to brood, so that’s where I went. Tall white columns circled the room, bushels of plants set around them, offering a reprieveof darkness. A reprieve some people were taking significant advantage of, I soon learned. My hunt for solitude continued.
Farther down, a woman stood to the side, surveying the crowd while she clawed at her back.
“Can I help you?” I asked, hesitantly setting my half-empty goblet on the railing.
She turned, an elegant white crystalline mask curved over her face, something about it almost feline. It did nothing to hide her identity—not with the blue-green wings at her back. She’d been at the welcome dinner with the small group of nobles and diplomats.
“I’d be grateful. This dress wasnotdesigned for these.” She gestured at her wings. “If I’m still stuck when my husband comes back, he’ll probably just burn it off me. It tends to be his solution to everything, and I’d hate to haveanotherdress ruined.”
I smiled at the affected irritation she put on, meant to cover obvious affection. “Let me help you.”
I eased around her and studied the back of the dress. The problem was clear; the way it was sewn against her didn’t quite accommodate her shoulder blades. I gingerly pulled at the fabric, then wove a pin from my hair through to secure it. “That should work.”
“You have deft fingers,” she said, easing away. Her wings fluttered. “Much better. Thank you.” She took my hand. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced yet. I’m Aella of Isendrell and Vaelithria. Andyou’rethe fledgling everyone is talking about, aren’t you?”
“I hope not, but probably. I’m Samara.” I picked up my goblet, but Aella snatched it from my hands with surprising surety. Too startled to stop her, I watched as she flung the contents into a large vase that had some kind of lilies planted in it.
“You should always get a fresh glass if you’ve set that one down,” she lectured, waving down a server who materialized inshort order. She handed me another glass of mead, taking a glass flute of some sparkling liquid for herself. “Cheers, to a dress my husband didn’t get to burn off. Tell me, what brings you to the edge of the crowd?” Aella asked, tilting her flute over to the throng of people buzzing about. Each glittered like a jewel under the moonlight.
“It’s where I’m most comfortable,” I said honestly. “And you?”
Even the casual shrug of her shoulders was elegant. “After the first hundred years of balls, they tend to blend together. We nearly skipped this year altogether. Though the thirteenth night is always breathtaking, no matter how many times I’ve been.”
The fireworks. I sucked in, remembering exactly how breathtaking last night had been.
We stood in silence for a moment, both studying the crowd. It was almost companionable.
“You’re not what I expected,” she told me after a moment.
I furrowed my brow behind the mask. “I wasn’t aware there were any expectations for me.”
“You must be joking.” She twisted and looked at me. “No . . . you’re serious. You don’t even realize.”
“I know I was Raphael’s Chosen and that him turning me is seen as significant,” I said, just a touch defensive. I’d heard enough of it.
“Our host has had thousands of Chosen in his reign, though he shows no sign of taking any to rule at his side. The northern queen turned her consort two hundred years ago, and it was only then they became her companion at events. But you’ve been sired by the western king, and despite no other tie, he takes you to a foreign kingdom. You’re left unattached, arriving alone. He’s positioning you not as one of his possessions but as an equal, someone who can act in her own right.”
