Alister
I keep stirring until the powder vanishes, watching the last grain dissolve into the amber swirl. No residue. No trace. Only then do I set the spoon aside.
The kitchen is chaos wrapped in order—steam hissing from pots, knives cracking against boards, and servants darting around like ants on fire. Silver trays line every counter, stacked with dishes I couldn't care less about. The air is thick with roasted meat and candied glaze, heavy enough to choke. Everyone's too busy to notice me, but it won't last. Any second, someone will remember I exist and shove another chore my way.
Zach flicks a glance at me while pretending to fuss with a pastry, his hand a little too casual on the piping bag. I give him the smallest nod.
It's time. His job is simple: deliver these spiked drinks to the security room, knock the guards out, and clear our path. With that easy grin and laid-back charm of his, nobody's going to question why a waiter decided to bring refreshments on his own accord.
"You! With the chain!" a voice snaps, sharp enough to freeze both of us in place.
A woman drenched in sweat and wearing the same staff uniform rushes impatiently towards Zach, balancing a tray stacked with tall-stemmed glasses. "Take these to the main hall! Quick."
Zach laughs a little too nervously, flashing his dimples, and points at the pastry he's pretending to decorate. "Uh, I'm in the middle of this one—"
The woman doesn't even let him finish. She shoves the tray against his chest, sloshing one of the drinks dangerously close to spilling. "Forget it. Leave that and just go. They're running out in the hall."
I suppress the urge to curse under my breath. Of all the rotten timing—
"I'll do it. I'm free right now." The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. I take the round tray from Zach, steadying the wobbling glasses.
The woman exhales sharply, relieved to be rid of the burden. "Good. Just hurry up. Don't keep the guests waiting." With a dismissive wave, she vanishes back into the chaos of the kitchen.
I stand there for a beat, staring down at the sparkling liquid as if it's mocking me. Of all the tasks to get roped into, it had to be this. I'd gone out of my way to avoid the main hall since the beginning. Too many eyes. Too much risk.
And yet here I am, carrying a tray straight toward the one place I swore I wouldn't step into. Behind me, Zach picks up the spiked drinks for the guards and walks away. I ordered Lev to create distractions if anyone interferes so he'll be fine. As for the crow himself, Simon has a similar device with him that can track its movements and listen in on who he interacts with.
The main hall opens before me like a stage set for a play I never auditioned for. Golden lighting scatters prisms across the polished wood, glinting against gilded moldings and marble columns. Laughter and clinking glasses roll over the crowd, rich with silk gowns, polished shoes, and jeweled watches. Every face is a mask, every smile practiced, every gesture rehearsed.
Clara and Steph are standing near the far side of the hall. A small circle of people gathered around them, leaning in with sly grins and drinks in hand. A knot forms in my stomach, and I jerk my head away, forcing my eyes back to serving the guests.
It had been hard, but staying out of the hotel for the majority of the time while everyone took a nap, helped. The sound of her whimpering and moaning uncomfortably in her sleep as her death nightmares took hold of her threatened to shatter the resistance I had to replace Steph, who held on to her and tried to comfort her.
And seeing her dressed up like the cruelest, most exquisite illusion, I knew I had to focus on the mission. The stakes were too high, and the situation too serious for me to be distracted by how breathtaking she looked. I was ready to stab myself to concentrate before my traitorous mind took a step further after counting the zippers on her dress.
She is a distraction. In every sense of the word. But I will not let her be my undoing.
"Boy! Over here!"
I freeze for a heartbeat, then straighten, tray still in hand. Stanley's green eyes are locked on me, glinting with that insufferable mix of arrogance and amusement. He ushers me over before resuming his conversation with the men.
I force a polite smile. Tray balanced in my hands, I force myself to glide forward. Stanley stands at the center of a small circle, laughing with his friends, the glow of the lights catching the gold embroidery on his jacket. His chest is puffed, his eyes bright with the smug satisfaction of a man who knows he has power.
"Isn't this demeaning?" Leora conjures beside me as I walk. "Look at it. All this careful planning, lowering yourself, hiding in plain sight. When you know, without a doubt, that you could kill every person in this room in seconds—and they'd bring you the goblet on their knees."
I know it. That image has haunted me since the moment I first set eyes on this hall: dark red blood spilling over the polished gold and ivory and me standing at the center of it all.
"You know you want to," she continues, voice curling closer, almost a whisper against my ear. "It's funny, really, how you tell yourself you punish only for wrongs done. You push down those perched atop pedestals. But the truth is simpler. You love it. You love the kill, the control, the feeling of power surging through your hands."
I keep my face carefully neutral as I reach Stanley. His laughter spills over me like heat; the scent of his putrid cologne is suffocating.
"…last month, Harris," he begins, "a junior clerk came to me, pleading for an extension on the zoning report. But then Deputy Ellery—Second Division, high-ranking, connected—asked for the same favor. I had to give Ellery the extension. Harris? Tough luck. Some rules are meant to favor those who matter."
I try not to grip the glass too tightly again as I hand it off to him. His eyes catch mine for a fraction too long, curiosity flickering in them.
One of his aides shifts uneasily. "Was that really fair though?"
Stanley's gaze snaps to me, bright, assessing, daring me to speak. "What do you think? Was it unfair?"
Anger curls through me, sharp and hot. I can feel every beat of my heart demanding I lash out and tear him down where he stands, but I force it down.
Leora whispers again. "Kill him. Make him bleed. Make them all see what happens when you stop pretending."
I force an awkward smile, the kind meant to put others at ease and draw no attention while lowering the empty tray in front of me. "I might not know much, sir, but I think you acted exactly as you should have." I say, humbly, almost apologetically, as though I am gently teaching a lesson. "Favoring an individual like Mr. Ellery, who's well connected, was a safer choice. To deny him for Mr. Harris would have been an invitation for trouble."
I feel the tingling sensation in my fists from holding the tray too tightly while I continue. Repeating the words my mentor drilled into me. "In a world where power is unevenly distributed, where influence dictates outcomes more than fairness ever could, one must always act with foresight. That is…how the world works."
Stanley's grin spreads, wide and self-satisfied, like a cat who's just found the cream. "Well said, my boy! Well said."
"Alister. Simon." Zach's sudden voice inside the earpiece almost makes me drop the tray. "The guards are out cold, and the hallway is clear. Hurry up."
I quickly excuse myself from the group and make my way out of the hall. The moment I cross the threshold, the corridor swims before me. My vision flickers.
And then—
"What do you mean they're still bullying you?"
I blink, and the hall is gone. My chest tightens as I find myself back in the teacher's lounge of my old elementary school. The smell of chalk dust and stale coffee clings to the air. My teacher sits across from me, his face stern, lined with disappointment.
"They said they were just roughhousing," he continues in a condescending tone. "You and your father even apologized for the commotion when you insisted on raising the matter and calling their parents."
I feel a surge of anger and frustration, the same emotions I felt all those years ago. I want to speak up, to tell him everything, to make him understand. To not keep quiet again with my head hanging low. To stop treating me like that just because I'm beneath them.
But this is just a memory, a fragment of my past. I take a deep breath, reminding myself that this isn't real. I close my eyes, feeling the familiar sensation of the rubber band on my wrist. I snap it twice, the pain and discomfort helping to ground me in reality.
I'm standing in the corridor again. The tray seems to have fallen from my hands as it lies on the floor.
"Enough with the hallucinations." I tell Leora.
She appears right in front of me. White hair and skin contrasted with the trench coat and bright crimson eyes. "What if I told you of a shortcut to get rid of your curse?"
Liar.
"You could simply kill Clara. I wasn't lying when I said one of you needs to die for it. The gems are connected. Like a brain and a heart. If one dies, the other won't last long, and the gems will fall out." She explains, trying to reason with me once again. I feel the ring I secretly wore around my neck press into me. I wanted to leave it in my bag, but an irrational part of me thought it'd go missing. It now reminds me of Clara's words again that she spoke with a wistful look in her eyes.
"Just kill her. Everything will end once you do, and you can go back to being how you were before." Leora continues.
I glance up at the sight of Lev flying towards me. Here to bring me to the room.
"If only I can make myself deaf so I won't have to listen to you." I tell her as I move forward.