I slipped from the bar without a word, my drink cool in my hand as I crossed through the crush of glitter and light. The shadows near the edge of the hall were quieter, less demanding. A small table draped in ocean-blue silk waited in the corner, candlelight flickering low across the glass. I sat, folding into silence. From here, I could see everything. The music had shifted, darker now, seductive, bass thrumming like a heartbeat under water. Lights spun lazily in deep cobalt hues, rippling across the sea-glass floors. Malvor was still dancing with Yara. Still laughing. Still there. he was enjoying himself.
Yara pressed close, bold as the ocean itself, her hands dragging lower with every pass, hips flush against him, her mouth brushing his ear. And Malvor? He matched her. Step for step. Tease for tease. His smile was sharp, wolfish. His hands wandered, never cruel, never careless, but enough that the air around them burned. Enough that anyone watching would know he wasn't pulling away. I sipped my drink, slow and steady. My face gave nothing. My body stayed composed. But inside? I was sharp glass. Steady. Watching.
Of course he enjoyed it. It was Yara's night, her beauty, her confidence, her chaos. And Malvor had never pretended he didn't enjoy beauty when it demanded to be seen. That was who he was. That was who he would always be. Still. Watching it wasn't easy. So I didn't move. Didn't pout. Didn't make a scene. I crossed my legs, rested my chin on my hand, and watched the performance like I'd already memorized the script. I knew the ending. I always did. The showman would bow, the goddess would bask, and when the lights dimmed, he would return to me. Because he always did.
My drink shimmered in the blue glow. I took another sip and waited. That was when Navir arrived. He moved with the kind of practiced elegance that made people forget to question him, every line of his shimmering jacket cut to perfection, the sheen of it like starlight woven with steel. He adjusted his unnecessary glasses with a smile that was all charm and subtle calculation.
"Mind if I join you, Anastasia?" he asked, voice smooth as silk over circuitry. The use of my full name grated my nerves in annoyance.
Before I could answer, Ravina drifted in beside him, a vision of mist and bark and green silk, her gown shifting like forest fog over water. Her smile was warm. Too warm. "I told him you looked lonely. Though I know better. You've never been the lonely type, have you?"
I arched a brow. "Your company is welcome."
They sat, fluid, flawless, their poise as polished as the floor beneath us. Ravina lifted her glass like a queen humoring courtiers. "Yara outdid herself this time. Did you see the bubble harp room?"
I smirked faintly. "Only from across the hall. I heard someone got stuck inside one of the bubbles."
Navir's grin flashed. "He deserved it. Tried to flirt with the DJ mid-song."
Ravina's lips curved. "She shorted out his hair. You would have loved it."
"I might have," I allowed. The edge of a real smile tugged at me.
Navir leaned closer, elbows on the table, eyes catching every flicker of light. "I was hoping you'd show. It isn't a proper Pantheon party without our new favorite wild card."
"Am I really the favorite?" I asked dryly.
Ravina's mouth twitched. "You partied in Luxor's realm like you owned it. You humiliated Aerion so badly his stable master quit. You've earned the title."
I shrugged, unapologetic. "He had it coming."
"Agreed," Navir said instantly. " I heard that horse was uncanny. The cheekbones, perfect."
Ravina groaned. "If I have to hear about that horse again—"
"—you'll admit it was art," Navir finished, grinning.
Their laughter came easy. Too easy. But for a moment, I let it reach me. I let myself lean into the ease, sip my drink, pretend the edges weren't always sharp. Navir pulled a small metallic orb from his jacket and tapped it. It bloomed midair into a holographic map of Yara's realm, glowing veins of ley-line energy threading through coral spires and shadowed trenches. Tiny stingrays spun through the projection of the dance floor.
"You made that?" I asked, watching one flicker past.
"Of course." He was smug, but it fit. "She won't let me near her ocean, so I made one that listens."
Ravina snorted softly. "She'll be thrilled."
I raised my glass. "To Navir. Innovating new ways to annoy Yara since always."
He clinked back, eyes alight. "To multitasking. Annoying and impressing, equally."
Ravina added hers. "To Annie. Chaos in heels."
"These heels cost more than a mortal house," I replied, smirking. "Toast them properly."
We laughed again, and for a few breaths, I almost let myself believe it. Almost. Ravina tilted her head, studying me. "You seem different tonight."
"Do I?"
"Relaxed. Maybe even happy."
"Maybe I am," I said, voice calm, measured.
Navir smiled like he'd just solved an equation. "Malvor must be good for you. Or at least entertaining."
"He's something," I answered carefully.
They nodded, too smooth, too synchronized. Just like that, the warmth dimmed. Because it was all too polished. Too perfect. A game. I set my glass down, slow and steady. My awareness sharpened. My guard slid back into place. That's when I felt it. The shift. The cold twist. Not sound, not sight. Just presence. Like thunder echoing through deep water. My skin went cold. Aerion.
He slid into the empty seat beside me like he owned it, one strong arm stretching behind me and Ravina in a single smooth arc. The touch wasn't heavy, wasn't obvious, but it pressed too close, lingered a beat too long. His smile was broad and venomous.
"Look at this table," Aerion said, voice soaked in rich, false charm. "The three most beautiful people in the room… and me."
I stiffened. Ravina didn't flinch. Navir chuckled lightly, raising his glass. "You're late. We were just saying how you always manage to make an entrance."
Aerion grinned wider, that grin that never reached his eyes. "I would not miss it. Not every day I get to sit with a legend."
My jaw tightened. My spine locked straight. Without warning his fingers brushed a bit of my hair from my shoulder, slow, deliberate, infuriatingly gentle. "You are holding up well," he murmured. "You always were resilient. That is one of the reasons I admire you."
Admire. The word slid under my skin like a blade. Ravina's laugh was warm, practiced. "She is not just resilient," she said smoothly. "She is sharp. Clever. Always on her feet." Her eyes found mine, steady, unreadable.
Navir leaned forward slightly, his tone casual. "Honestly, I did not expect you to come tonight. Not after last time."
I narrowed my gaze. "You mean the horse?"
Navir laughed outright. "That horse was chaos distilled. Aerion nearly killed us."
"I was not furious," Aerion corrected smoothly, swirling his drink. "I was impressed. It takes guts to mock a god of war to his face."
"You weren't laughing," I said coldly.
"Because I did not want to ruin the moment." His grin sharpened. "But you're ruining this one."
Ravina cut in before the tension could crack."Easy," she crooned, sipping her crystalline cup. "We are all friends tonight. Just drinks and dancing and dangerous charm, mm?"
Her voice was honey, but too warm. Too coaxing.
She lifted a new glass from a passing tray, the liquid inside glowing green-gold, like sunlight caught in leaves. She slid it toward me, her hand brushing mine."Try this one. A blend I made for the party. Sweet. Forest honey and citrus. You'll love it."
Aerion plucked a glass for himself without waiting. Navir accepted one too, raising it with careless elegance. Ravina already had hers. They clinked together, smiling as though this were nothing more than camaraderie. Every eye landed on me.
I hesitated. Every woman knows: don't trust a drink you didn't pour yourself. But refusing would make me look weak. Exposed. So I lifted it. Took a sip. Sweet. Warm. Strange, yes, but nothing more than odd wine.
Aerion's arm stretched lazily behind my chair, not quite touching, but the weight of it kept me penned in. A cage disguised as casual.
Navir leaned back, voice light, still studying me over the rim of his glass. "You've changed. There's a softness to you now. A glow."
"She's adapting," Ravina murmured. Her fingers brushed mine again, adjusting a ring I wasn't wearing. My skin prickled. Tingled… then cooled. I frowned, but she had already drawn her hand back.
Navir tapped his orb, hologram flickering brighter, distracting, pulling feeds out of circulation. Ravina reached once more, brushing a strand of hair from my face with deceptive gentleness. That was it. Weight.
The velvet heaviness didn't come from the drink. I knew it even as my head tilted, vision blurring. It came from her touch. Twice, soft as kindness, sharp as poison. The music warped. The lights flared too bright. My pulse dragged, slow and uneven.
Ravina smiled. "See? I told you it was good."
Aerion raised his glass, the predator in his grin unmistakable. "To new memories."
I tried to lift my hand. My fingers shook. The glass slipped. My heart slammed heavy, like it was being pulled into the sea. Panic surged.
Malvor.
I reached for him through the bond, through the invisible tether that had become as constant as breath. I shoved my fear down it, my need, a flare of raw desperation: help me. Silence. The bond was there, but muted. Faint. Like trying to scream through a storm. My chest tightened. My gaze darted across the room, frantic, over the dance floor, the fountains, the laughing crowd. No trace of him.
Malvor, please.
My scream echoed only in my own mind. My mouth couldn't move. I couldn't get the words out. Navir didn't look at me. Didn't even flinch. He kept talking to Ravina as though nothing was happening, sipping calmly, eyes too bright.
Then, almost under his breath, too quiet for anyone else, he murmured, "Cameras and security are down. We're free to go when you can move."
Ravina leaned closer, brushing my hair back from my face with the same soft touch she'd used to pass me the drink. "You should have stayed home, little pet." Her voice was sweet. Final.
Aerion's smile was terrible calm, inches from my ear. "Do not worry. He will not find you in time."
I tried to stand. My legs betrayed me. Heavy, sluggish, the velvet weight sinking into bone. I managed a gasp, shallow and weak, but the world was already tilting, sliding sideways. I tried screaming down the bond. Nothing from Malvor. No teasing tug. No warmth. No fury. Only silence. Just the three of them. And me. Alone.