We finish getting ready together.
The suit Kaelith wears looks good on him. Nothing extravagant—just as he wanted—but like last time, he cleans up remarkably well.
"You look breathtaking, Nyra," he says.
I feel my face heat as I blush. This might be the first time I've ever truly believed someone when they said I looked lovely.
My hair took ages to curl this way, one side cascading down my face while the other is pinned up with carefully placed pins. Mother even went out of her way to buy makeup, something I protested against at first—it's so rare for me to wear any and expensive—but she only smiled and said, "I want you to take the whole room's breath away."
I'm still trying to get used to the dress. The way it hugs my hips, the bare skin of my back exposed to the cold air—it all makes me hyper-aware of myself. My heels clack softly against the floor as I walk, black like my hair, contrasting the warm orange hue of the dress. Kaelith drapes the matching jacket over my shoulders before helping me into the wagon.
Mother and Father are already inside. The ride is quiet, filled with anticipation, until the "castle" comes into view.
If you can even call it that.
It's more like a glorified mansion—nearly the size of an actual castle—built to host gatherings like this. A place where every important member of the royal government could gather in one spot if needed. A fortress disguised as luxury.
When we arrive, Kaelith helps me down from the wagon. Servants immediately surround us, guiding us toward the sound of music already thundering through the halls.
I enter beside Kaelith, just behind my parents.
"So this is the ball," he murmurs. "Seems to me you're getting quite a few stares."
"I know," I say softly, my cheeks warming. "Maybe I shouldn't have worn this."
He shakes his head. "They're just jealous of your beauty."
Before I can respond, my parents clear their throats.
"Have fun, you two," Mother says. "Your father and I have people to speak with."
They disappear into the crowd, leaving Kaelith and me alone.
"What first?" I ask.
He smiles and leads me toward the dance floor.
The music swells as we join the sea of swirling dresses and polished shoes. I struggle for a moment to keep up with his pace.
"I don't remember you being this good at dancing," I say.
He takes my hand and spins me smoothly. "I was still recovering from poison last time. This time, I'm in full posture."
He's fast—almost impossibly so—but he follows my lead just enough that only someone who truly knows the dances would notice. Music has always been a refuge. Festivals, balls… I love the rhythm, even if the company is less appealing.
At least I have Kaelith. And my parents.
After several waltzes, we make our way to the drink table.
"I'm parched," Kaelith says. "What do you want, Nyra?"
"Just water. I'm not in the mood for wine tonight."
"Then allow me to help you with that."
The booming voice behind me makes me jump.
I turn. "Roland?"
He bows politely, handing me a glass of water. "Welcome to the ball, you two."
"What are you doing here?" I ask.
Kaelith has already stepped closer to my side.
"I was hired to serve tonight," Roland says easily. "The pay's good, and I figured—why not? Finding a suit was the hard part."
To my surprise, it fits him well, hiding his larger frame just enough to pass among the guests.
"I need to escort you," he adds. "Lord Caol would like to speak with you privately."
I glance at Kaelith. His eyes say exactly what I'm thinking.
I don't like that.
Still, refusing isn't an option.
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
"Be careful," he murmurs back.
I nod. "Okay. Let's go." and loop my arm around Roland.
My feet feel unsteady as Roland leads me through the party, away from the music and laughter, into quieter halls. When the noise finally fades, Roland's voice suddenly breaks the silence.
"I'm sorry, Nyra."
I look at him. "For what?"
"For my behavior the last time we met. It wasn't right."
Oh. That.
"Are you still angry with me?" I ask.
"I was jealous," he admits, as if the words weigh on him. "But I care more about your well-being than my feelings."
"…Then I suppose we've forgiven each other."
He nods. "Just remember—if you're ever in trouble, whether you like it or not, I'll be there to get you out."
We stop in front of a door.
"This is the room," he says. "Wait here. He'll arrive soon."
His footsteps echo away, leaving me alone.
The room is enormous. The bed is far too large, the furniture clearly crafted for someone of importance. Everything smells faintly of wealth—polished wood, expensive fabric, quiet power. Even the bathroom could easily fit two people.
Being here makes my skin crawl.
Then—
A whisper.
It comes from the hallway.
I open the door slightly, peering out. No one is there. The sound from before was too faint to understand.
Then I hear it again.
"ᚾᛟ…"
Female.
My breath catches. The sound comes from my left.
Every instinct tells me not to follow. My hair stands on end, my heart pounding—but the sounds made it sound like someone is in trouble…
I step into the hallway and move toward the sound.