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I drag my gaze over the clothes and shake my head. “I’m not going to wear that.”
“Of course you are. It’s gorgeous. Oh, look at that, there’s a note.” He hands me a small black card.
Wear it tonight.
I want to see you in it.
— C.
“Good Light.” Damaris’s jaw drops. “You are catastrophically into this.”
“I am not—”
“Ro.”
“I’m literally not.”
He rolls his eyes and points at the suit. “He sent you clothes for this concert. Through a fucking guard. I mean, what’s cooler than being cool?”
I stare back down at the note. “I’m not wearing that.”
Damaris huffs a short laugh, but it fades. “Yeah, except this stops being funny if Ciaran Virel actually decides he wants you.”
My stomach tightens. “Dama—”
“No, seriously.” He drags a hand through his messy hair. “You know what people say about him. About that family. Rich people don’t flirt like normal people, Rowan. They fixate.”
I look back down at the expensive suit still draped across the couch. “Well,” I mutter, “I refuse to be fixated on.”
“Boo.” Damaris slams the mug into the sink. “I know you do. But I don’t think that’s really an option anymore.”
My mind drifts unwillingly back to Sola, to the scholarship that brought me here in the first place, and to the strange feeling that ever since I arrived in Caervast, invisible threads have been tightening around me, pulling secrets and Ciaran Virel straight into my life whether I want them there or not.
Damaris grabs his bag from the chair and heads for the door. “Come on. We’ll figure it out if it gets weird like we always do, but first we still have class before your terrifying mafia stalker decides to parade you around the Legacy Gala in designer clothing tonight.”
“Thank you all for accepting our invitation tonight. On behalf of the Virel family and Caervast Academy, it’s an honor to welcome so many distinguished guests from across the Reach. Representatives of the Imperial Court, the Marrow Consortium, our legacy houses, and Sero’s oldest families have joined us this evening, and we’re grateful for your continued support.”
Applause ripples softly through the Hall of Resonance as Damaris and I step through the towering black doors into the crowd.
Security is impossible to miss. Guards in dark suits stand at every entrance and along the upper balconies, their attention sweeping constantly across the hall while guests drift between the tables beneath the gold light.
“Who’s that?” Damaris murmurs beside me.
I nearly choke when I recognize the middle-aged man standing beneath the lights.
“That’s the Imperial of Sero.”
“Excuse me?” Damaris clears his throat, sounding like he wants to turn on his heels and get the hell out of here.
He’s not wrong. On Düren, we’re terrified of our Imperial family. And judging by the way this man commands the room, he’s no different.
The sight of the Noctis waiting beneath the lights anchors me.
“Now we do what we came here for.” I force my eyes away from the Imperial and toward the stage. “I play my concert, and then we leave.”
The words come out firmer than I feel.
Beside me, Damaris studies my face, something soft and knowing flickering across his expression before he nods.
