by May Dawson
Only this time, it’s not just my home I’d miss. It might destroy me to be wrenched away from these men. The ache twines around my heart already. The thought makes me want to kick off my high heels and run barefoot from them, back to the nearest portal. If I’m going to get my heart torn out, I might as well start now. I don’t need to fall even further.
“Do you think there’s going to be champagne at this party?” I ask as we walk the stairs hand-in-hand. I’m so glad the drinking age in Avalon is eighteen.
“Not for you.” His cheekbones swell slightly when he teases me, even though a smile doesn’t touch his lips yet.
“Believe me, I’m better equipped to navigate any social situation slightly inebriated. It really can’t get any worse than it is when I’m sober.”
“I find you very charming,” Airren says.
A step behind me and to my left, Mycroft snorts.
“You’re not helpful,” Cax tells him.
“Mycroft’s definitely an expert on charm,” Airren says drily, glancing over his shoulder at his old friend. “You should really give lessons.”
“I’m happy to give you a lesson anytime you want,” Mycroft promises him.
The four of us walk through the double doors into the evening air. We’re walking to the Legacy House, the big building where students put on shows and where the orchestra plays and special guests speak. I wonder if these monthly balls are really that different from a frat party Earthside. I guess with thousands of young wizards in one place, there has to be a way to break the tension without putting spells on each other.
I’m focused on navigating the stone steps in my heels, my skirt drawn up in one hand, and then I step onto the solid stone at the bottom and look up.
The path that leads away from Rawl House is lit with twinkling lights that hover at ankle-height, illuminating the stone trail. More lights twinkle dimly through the leaves in the trees, wrapped around the branches; in the gaps where the leaves have fallen, those lights bloom into bright white stars.
Airren tucks my hand into the crook of his arm, pulling me closer, and I realize I’ve stopped to gawk at the beauty. As I walk forward with him, I breath in his aftershave. He smells spicy and warm; the scent makes me imagine lying by a fire with him, listening to him read as he holds a novel tented over us both. I’d feel the warm, low grumble of his voice through his chest with my head resting on his shoulder.
“Me put a spell on you?” I say softly, thinking of what he’d said earlier about hoping the True would think I’m so powerful, I’ve brought these Crown loyalists under my spell. “You should tell me what’s in your cologne, Airren Penn.”
His eyebrows rise. “I bought it off the shelf in Wick’s. I think clove? Orange? Sandalwood? I don’t know anything about cologne.”
I should have some kind of quick quip back about his cologne, but all I can think is that I wish I were just a girl in love with this boy who liked me back.
He stops abruptly, turning to me. Couples in gowns and tuxes, and a few threesomes and foursomes, stream past us.
“Whatever is bothering you,” he whispers, “I want to know all about it. Later. But tonight, we focus. All right?”
I look up at him from under my eyelashes, trying to give him the same coquettish look I’ll use tonight at the ball as I try to act like Tera Donovan, potential leader of True.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
He tilts my chin up, studying my face. “Make me a promise, Tera, and I’ll make one to you.”
“What’s the promise?”
“You don’t lie to me, and I won’t lie to you.” He caresses my cheek, one finger still confidently tilting my chin. His blue eyes are deep and sincere.
“I trust you with my life,” I say, because it’s true.
“I want you to trust me with a lot more than that.” He leans down and presses a soft kiss to my lips. It’s quick and chaste. My hands slide down the fine fabric of his jacket, feeling the hardness of his biceps As he pulls away from me, there’s still tenderness in his eyes.
My heart races, but for once, it’s not with panic—either from danger now or remembered miseries.
I promised myself I’d leave my walls up around Airren.
I’m going to need a lot more bricks.
I smile at him over my shoulder as I sashay away. The three men fall in step behind me.
They’re either going to destroy me or save me, and I don’t know if I’d gamble on which.
Chapter 7
As we head down the path, there are more and more lights; by the time we turn the corner and Legacy House stands in front of us at the top of the hill, it feels bright as day under the canopy of flickering white lights hovering above our heads. The night is deep, black and starless beyond the artificial lanterns, but I could lose myself in this magic for a little while. Night-blooming flowers surround the House, filling the air with a luscious scent of honey mixed with heavy, heated florals. The names I learned in elementary school, on late-night walks with our science teacher, unfurl in my mind: the night-blooming roses and the flox and evening primroses.
“Masks on.” Mycroft says.
“This would be my department.” Cax touches the small of my back. “Thank you for humoring my sister’s whims. I made this for you.”
He holds up an elaborate gold mask, with fine silver etching and rubies set in the cheeks. My breath catches in my chest at the thought of having something cover my face, suffocatingly close, and I glance past Cax to Mycroft and Airren, who are slipping on their own masks. Mycroft’s simple gold mask hides his eyes from me, making him look even more the part of the frightening warrior. Airren’s mask is smaller, more like a silver band covering his eyes and nose, but even so, when I can’t see their faces, my chest tightens.
Cax leans close to me. “With the mask, you’ll never really be alone. Don’t be afraid of it.”
“It’s beautiful.” I’m a beat too late. I touch the rubies clustered across the cheeks of the mask; now I know why Stelly insisted on painting my lips the same bright ruby shade.
“The mask is only as lovely as the girl wearing it.” He slides it onto my face. It fits better than I imagined, resting so lightly I could almost forget I was wearing it. He leans even closer to me, his lips brushing my ear. “And you make it extraordinary.”
My lips quirk up ruefully. “You’re contractually obligated to say that.”
“Oh? Were you contractually obligated to kiss Airren?” His lips tilt up to match mine.
“Are you jealous?”
He slides his mask on, but I would know the mischievous cast to his lips anywhere. “Maybe with the mask, I’ll be able to trick you into kissing me.”
“Maybe you don’t need a trick.” I shoot back.
Airren offers me his arm. I loop one arm through his and one arm through Cax’s. Mycroft bounds up the stairs ahead of us. Two valets open the doors for us.
Music spills out of the hall. Mycroft enters first, his posture protective even from here. He’s searching for any potential danger.
Mycroft, Cax and Airren are going to allow those other dangers to try to meet me, to persuade me to their side. But with the three of them surrounding me, the only real danger in the night is to my heart.
The three of us sweep up the stairs.
I haven’t been inside Legacy Hall before. We enter a massive space that transforms into a theater when it isn’t being used as a dance hall. There are boxes to the sides, rising up in rows, with ornately worked wooden decorations. The ceiling of the hall soars many stories above us, a crystal dome open to the sky. A band plays on the stage, and couples in beautiful clothes spin around the room. The place is a blur of beauty.
No, this isn’t like the standard frat party I imagined.
“I definitely need that champagne,” I say.
This time, Airren grins in response, his lips widening under the mask, emphasizing the hard cast to his jaw. When he’s pretending to be under my spell, he even laughs at
my jokes.
“Your wish is my command.” Cax raises my hand to his lips to kiss my palm once again before squeezing my hand as he lets go. He heads toward one of the waiters who circle with trays of canapes and champagne flutes. Tables scattered around the room hold towering displays of canapes, flowers and deserts. Multi-tiered trays hold little cakes, chocolate-dipped strawberries, and elaborately decorated chocolates.
If I didn’t have a mission, I’d kiss my boys goodbye for a while and just hover by the desserts table.
Cax returns with a glass of champagne, but Mycroft steps in front of him, holding his hand out to me. “We should dance,” he says brusquely.
I raise an eyebrow reaching past him to take the glass of champagne Cax offers. “We should work on our manners.”
Cax’s mouth twist in amusement he tries to control. His lips part, but before he can ask, I say, “You’re all handsome and adorable, and I’m not here to meet you.”
I rest my hand on Cax’s chest, feeling his heart beat against my palm—his heart beats quicker than I’d expect—before I gently push him away.
As I sashay along the edge of the dance floor, I stand straight and tall, my shoulders squared. I don’t want to leave them, and I don’t want to be approached by the True, but I need to be.
I’m Tera fucking Donovan. I don’t need to stay close to the men I came with, because they’ll be waiting for me where I left them. I’m in complete control.
Or at least, I need to hold myself like I am.
I stop at the edge of the dance floor, my gold-rimmed champagne flute in my hand, and take a long, slow sip as I stare out at the dancers. People glance at me and then glance away, whispering. But now at least I know I’ve given them reason to whisper; these whispers aren’t just for my father. These whispers are for the girl who stormed out of Radner’s class, for the girl with the dragon’s egg, for the girl who leaped out of an eighth story window.
My lips arch up, and I can’t resist their pull. No one knows if I’m a hero or a villain yet, and I don’t know either. But the music is a long, slow draw, making me want to sway and raise my arms and dance, and the night is beautiful, and I’m alive. Neither Avalon nor Earth has beaten me down yet.
A man stops in front of me. His mask covers almost all his face; it’s an oval except for rectangular slits for his mouth and eyes. The mask is pitted with gems that look like an expensive pox.
“May I have this dance?” he asks me, holding his hand out.
A shiver runs down my arms.
But I’m looking for a bad man. I rest my fingertips in his and let him guide me wordlessly onto the dance floor.
A waiter hovers at the edge of the floor. “Pause, please,” I say sweetly to my new friend. I down the rest of the champagne in one gulp, then set the glass on the waiter’s tray.
“Are you enjoying the party?” the man asks me as he draws me into his arms. His fingers knit around mine, his hand settling intimately close at the small of my back. My spine straightens stiffly, holding a gap between us.
I follow his steps, but I should have asked for a refresher on how the hell to dance in Avalon. My Physical Education dance classes in private school—where I danced with another girl, taking turns leading—are lost to me now, along with how to diagram sentences, conjugate Latin, and multiply fractions. I’m sure I could learn any of it again. But that doesn’t help me while I try not to step on the toes of a man who might be True.
“Very much,” I say. “The champagne dirtside was awful.”
“I’m sorry you had to spend any time there.” His lips are so close to my ear that his hot breath tickles my ear canal.
Revulsion creeps up my spine. There’s no reason for me to feel this way. I can’t see his face, but he has a perfectly nice body and he smells nice. Something makes my skin crawl, though, and I’m not sure it’s only his potential affiliation with True. Something else bothers me.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from having people try to murder me, it’s to trust my instincts.
“Me too,” I say lightly. “But I’m home now. That’s all that matters.”
“We’re all so very glad you’re home,” he says, which is a lie, of course. Most of Avalon is unimpressed by my return.
“We?” I raise my eyebrows at him, my ruby lips curving up into a smile. “I have a fan club?”
“Very much,” he says.
I stroke my hand up his arm to his shoulder. If he were one of my boys, how would I touch him? I try to pretend it’s Airren’s hard shoulder under my fingertips, but I can’t. I grit my teeth and smile despite the slow flutter of panic in my stomach. “What’s your name?”
“I don’t have a name.” His breath is another hot blast into my ear. I squirm inwardly, but make myself hold still, that blank smile frozen on my lips. “But my heart beats True.”
“What a coincidence.” I say softly, but I say nothing else to give myself away.
“A coincidence how?” he asks, a beat too late.
As I smile at him, I take a step back. For me, the small space between us is filled with a flood of relief.
“Come with me.” His eyes flicker up urgently, toward the boxes. “Let’s speak privately.”
“I have many people to dance with tonight,” I tell him mischievously. “Why should I come with you?”
“Because I need to talk to you.” He takes my elbow in his hand, his grip firm. “Because it’ll be best for you.”
“That sounds like a threat.” My voice comes out low and cool, not giving away how my heart hammers in my chest. That’s a small victory. The terror I feel is an echo from other days, when I was alone in a dangerous world. It doesn’t belong to tonight.
“It’s not a threat.” He sounds genuinely horrified. “We want to speak to you. Because we value you, Tera Donovan. Now please, come with me.”
I stare back at him. Does he take me for an idiot? But I need to know what he has to say. My gaze rises to the boxes above, and I stare up at them, telegraphing to my guys where I’m headed. “Did you say you have a box? I’ll go there, but no further.”
“That’s all I ask.” He bows from the waist.
I follow him across the dance floor, but as I reach the edge of the dance floor, a new man in a mask steps in front of me. His tall, muscular frame in a perfectly fitted tuxedo blocks my nameless True friend from sight.
As I try to look past this newcomer, he offers me a wide smile. “You don’t want to go with him. He’s quite ugly under the mask. The face of a dog.”
His voice is low and warm and sexy.
“I’ve always found dogs to be adorable.” I turn to slip past him.
He reaches out and catches my wrist. “Dance with me instead. A lady like you shouldn’t be alone with a man like that.”
“Probably true.” I lean in close to him, my voice a whisper, and he leans back into me too. “And a gentleman shouldn’t eavesdrop.”
His eyes are very bright, a light silver-blue that seems almost supernatural. Even through the mask, I can see him wink.
“I might be noble, but I’m not a gentleman.”
“Are you noble?” I cock my head to one side. I desperately need to dispatch this handsome buffoon—at least, his jaw is beautifully chiseled, and his lips are narrow but nicely shaped, so I’m assuming he’s handsome—and move on with the True.
“I might be.”
I lean even closer to him, my breath a whisper. “I might be dirtside scum. You should go on, Your Majesty.”
His eyes widen slightly, and he pulls back. “Your Majesty is the king. Not me.”
Is he really going to act like the king of the world, then cry about being called by the title?
“Sorry, I’m rusty on all that.” I wink back at him. “If you’ll excuse me.”
The True crosses his arms impatiently, waiting for me to join him.
I pat the cheek of the noble’s mask with my fingernails. It makes a ting-ting sound. The metal feels warm under my palm, re
minding me of sunshine on a summer day, as if his own warmth has heated the mask. “Very pretty,” I tell him. “But I’m walking away now.”
“You should see beneath the mask.” His voice is teasing, as if we know each other, as I turn away.
Maybe I should find this exchange creepy, but I don’t. I might not have magic anymore, but I do have some finely tuned creep-radar. It’s going off like mad for the True waiting for me, his lips twisted with jealousy and his finely-made shoe tapping. But His Majesty in the mask doesn’t bother me one bit.
Still, I tuck my arm through the arm of the True. “Lead on.”
I don’t look back at His Majesty, but I can feel his gaze on me. I glance to my left, where Mycroft moves deftly through the crowd. As tall as he is, he blends in seamlessly, stopping to take a glass of champagne, looking as if he is in no rush at all. But he matches our pace and then peels off to the side without looking back. He’s headed for a different staircase.
I glance past the True’s back, but I don’t see the others. Then as we’re heading up the marble stairs, I belatedly cinch the tight skirt of my dress up in my hand so I won’t stumble on the shiny material, and I happen to glance at Airren. He stands with his elbows braced on a balcony in one of the boxes. There’s a girl next to him, and she leans over with her hand covering her smiling mouth, laughing as if Airren is hilarious. He smiles faintly, self-satisfied, and jealousy flares in my chest.
Airren meets my eyes levelly and even from this distance, I see him wink. Then he turns his attention back to her, clinking his glass with hers, and I return my attention to the True.
Warmth glows in my chest, easing some of the tightness there. I’m not alone.
The True leads me up endless marble stairs, heading towards the top boxes.
“So the True are in the cheap seats, hmm?” I ask lightly.
“Only for a time,” he says.
We reach one of the top floors, and a narrow wooden hallway is in front of us, with the entries to the boxes in a series of open arches to our left.
