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Ma’s crying somewhere behind me while Pa drags me hard against his chest, one hand gripping the back of my neck as my pulse kicks against my ribs.

They know where we live. They watch from markets and side streets, following us often enough that I’ve learned the sound of their footsteps by heart.

Then it hits me. It hurts almost as much as the panic. They could have taken me.

They could have left us alone.

But they never did.

They just kept coming back.

28

ROWAN

The first note of the Noctis vibrates through the glass pavilion and settles somewhere deep beneath my ribs while candlelight fractures across crystal and polished marble, black iron arching overhead beneath the winter-dark sky.

Beyond the glass walls, Caervast’s gardens stretch toward the dark line of forest bordering the estate. At night, the trees feel close enough to swallow the lights whole.

Everything looks beautiful. Wrong.

Or perhaps that’s just my fragile mind, fracturing with visions of the past that always come back when I’m too scared to face the present.

Sometimes it’s easier to lose yourself in old fears than confront the ones waiting in front of you.

Outside, black hover SUVs continue arriving along the winding drive that cuts through the gardens, their windows dark enough to hide the silhouettes inside while guards move quickly between vehicles and the entrance.

More guests drift through the pavilion every few minutes, expensive coats brushing marble while conversation moves low and controlled beneath the sound of the Noctis.

Too many people are watching me too closely tonight.

The Virels turned the evening into something ceremonial, not just another performance but a presentation, and every time another old family enters the pavilion, I can feel the atmosphere shifting around me all over again.

The glass pavilion feels smaller than it should, the candlelit air pressing against my lungs while another car glides up the drive outside and more strangers step into the light.

Nothing is happening. I know that. And yet my attention keeps drifting toward the entrance, tracking unfamiliar faces and dark windows while something cold settles between my shoulder blades.

The feeling is familiar somehow, a faint unease I can’t seem to shake no matter how hard I focus on the music.

I keep playing anyway. Stopping now would mean looking too closely at the hundreds of eyes watching me beneath all that light.

The notes move automatically beneath my hands after weeks of rehearsals with Halvern, the opening progression smooth enough now that I no longer have to think about where my fingers land. The sound carries through the glass hall in slow waves that seem too large for the instrument itself.

I focus on the music. On the resonance as it hums through the pavilion. It never sounds soft, not really. Even the quieter notes feel weighted somehow, slipping beneath the audience in a way that almost reminds me of cathedral bells carrying through the Ward.

Wake up.

My fingers nearly miss the next transition. For a second, the dream refuses to let go. Footsteps echo through markets and side streets while the feeling of somebody watching from just far enough away to avoid notice tugs at the edge of my memory before disappearing again.

The crowd beyond the stage lights keeps blurring every time I glance toward them for too long, their faces half hidden beneath crystal reflections while people watch me from their tables with the kind of attention that keeps unease dragging slowly beneath my skin.

Ciaran hasn’t answered a single one of my messages since I arrived.

When one of the Virel guards escorted me to the venue instead of Ciaran about an hour ago, I told myself not to read too much into it, but I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. Especially because normally he’d already be leaning over the back of my chair, his hand finding the back of my neck while he whispered something smug enough to make me roll my eyes in front of half the room.

He praises me constantly when I play, sometimes so openly it still leaves me flushed afterward, his voice low against my ear while he tells me I sound beautiful or impossible or made for the Noctis itself.

But tonight he sits several rows away beside his family and hasn’t once come near me.