Page 1

Chapter One

The Academy of Varethia does not believe in subtlety. Six enormous chandeliers float beneath the glass ceiling without chains or visible magic holding them there, each one burning in the color of one of the Great Families. Music spills from a quartet positioned somewhere beyond the marble staircase, half-hidden beneath cascading vines covered in silver flowers.

Hundreds of candles hover above tables crowded with crystal glasses, and through the transparent ceiling, the night sky stretches endlessly overhead. Stars. Mountains. Moonlight. And enough wealth to feed several villages for a year. I tilt my head back.

"Compensating for something?" The boy standing beside me chokes on his champagne. I turn. He can't be older than 20. Fae, judging by the faint shimmer along the pointed tips of his ears. He stares at me.

"I'm sorry?" His eyes widen. For one terrible second, I think I've offended him. Then he laughs. Actually laughs.

"You're Eirea Vaelith." There it is. Not a question. It rarely is. I smile anyway.

"Unfortunately." His laugh gets louder. Good. At least one person here has a sense of humor.

My father would probably disapprove of the way I'm holding my champagne. Too casually. My shoulders should be straighter. My chin slightly higher. My smile restrained enough to remain elegant without inviting familiarity.

I know all of this because I have spent nineteen years being taught exactly how a Vaelith should enter a room. Tonight, however, my father is several hundred miles away. Which means my champagne can survive being held incorrectly. I take a sip. Freedom tastes remarkably like bubbles.

"You're not what I expected." The fae boy is still watching me. I lift an eyebrow.

"That's either flattering or deeply insulting."

"I haven't decided."

"Let me know."

He grins and offers his hand "Soren Eilvaris." I recognize the name immediately. Eilvaris. One of the oldest fae lines in Varethia. Close enough to power that our fathers have probably argued across the same Council table at least once. I shake his hand.

"Eirea." I say.

"I gathered."

"Right. The terrifying surname."

"Mostly the face."

I stare at him. Soren takes another drink. "Everyone knows what you look like."

"That isn't unsettling at all."

"You'll get used to it."

"I was hoping everyone else would get bored."

"They won't." He almost sounds sorry.

"Tragic.''

The Welcoming Ball marks the beginning of every Academy year. Officially, it exists to welcome incoming students and celebrate the continued alliance of the Six Great Families.

Unofficially, it exists so powerful parents can dress their children beautifully, place them in one room and begin calculating which friendships, rivalries and marriages might prove politically useful ten years from now.

Fortunately, parents aren't allowed. Which makes the entire thing significantly more tolerable. Around us, vampires mingle with fae beneath glowing chandeliers. Wolves occupy an unreasonable amount of space near the food tables.

Sirens move through the crowd with the effortless elegance of people who know everyone is watching them. Medusae gather near the eastern balcony, their jeweled headpieces catching the candlelight.

"Looking for someone?" Soren asks.

"No.".