Page 24 of Dark Reign

Both faced forward again, and I couldn’t even begin to explain how grateful I was to have their attention off me. While, yes, that first interaction nearly scared me half to death, I also gained a confidence boost when I realized the couple didn’t even seemslightlysuspicious I didn’t belong there.

I relaxed a bit.

Two hostesses seated behind a small, decorative table smiled politely when it was my turn to approach. I held my composure when handing over the ticket Felix assured me was failsafe. At this point, I had no choice but to trust that was true.

“Admittance voucher and I.D., please?” one nearly sang, her high-pitched bubbly voice catching me by surprise.

I offered the same polite expression, doing all I could to keep from sweating when I handed over both.

She looked them over, front and back.

The sound of a loud hole puncher biting through my ticket nearly made me jump out of my skin. I hid it somehow, accepting my belongings when they were placed back in my gloved hand.

“You’re all set, Ms. Travis. Enjoy the gala.”

I smiled, pretending the fake name she read from the I.D. was my own. From there, I was quickly ushered to the lengthy gallery that ended at the palace ballroom.

“Are we allowed to speak?” Felix’s voice came through my com. We had an agreement, no one could say a word until I was in. My nerves were too frazzled before that.

“Permission granted, but fair warning: I’m getting ready to be surrounded by Ianites, so I might not be able to respond.”

“Spotted anyone of importance yet?” Liv eagerly asked.

“The royal dictators and their brides—minus Empress Westower—are all here, but I haven’t recognized anyone from the science facility yet. I will say, though, it’s interesting to see firsthand where all the blood money has gone.”

With that whispered statement to my team, I lifted my eyes to take in the detail in the pillars I passed, the muraled ceiling. If Lord Wilford’s palace was this lavish, I could only imagine how the Emperors lived.

The thought of it actually sickened me. Especially seeing as how the rest of us barely knew where our next meal was coming from.

“Ok, I’m in,” I informed them, moving my lips as little as possible.

“Cool. We’ll talk, you listen,” Felix instructed.

Scanning the room, I got my bearings in the crowded space. Wait staff weaved about in white so they were easily set apart from the evening’s assigned attire. Arranged on some trays, fancy hors d’oeuvres with imaginative garnishments; on others, small crystalline glasses filled with thick, red liquid.

There was no mistaking what was inside them.

I breathed deeply and glanced up, taking in the sight of broken figurines dancing on the ceiling. At least, that’s how they appeared. Dressed in black leotards, weightless ballerinas moved with such grace and elegance as they defied gravity, their bare feet hardly touching the murals between rafters. These dancers were, no doubt, here by way of the South Quadrant, their unique gift of flight being put to use in the form of art.

It was all so over the top, and yet, somehow still hauntingly beautiful.

My gaze lowered and I took in my surroundings again.

“Is there a bar, Cori?”Liv asked.

“Mmm hmm,” I muttered quietly, so only they could hear.

“Good, head over. The only thing powerful men enjoy more than a beautiful woman, is a strong drink,” she joked.

Following her advice, I moved that way, being careful not to touch anyone as I crossed the room, surveying the area with each step. I preferred to know what I was walking into. My gaze landed on each one—the tense couple who barely said a word to one another, the couple who could barely keep their hands off each other, and then I spotted … them.

There were three seated at the bar beside the terrace, laughing just a hair above the sound of a well-studied cellist strumming a piano-accompanied rendition ofMoonlightSonata. These women were dressed as lavishly as every other in the room, but they were definitely different.

They were human.

Their vibrant green, brown and blue eyes were a dead giveaway.

They stared and I stared back, noticing the presence of odd jewelry—skeleton keys. One dangled around one’s neck from a black, satin ribbon. Another with the same ribbon and key tied around her wrist. And a third with hers cheekily secured around her ankle. My guess was this was a new fashion trend I missed. Literally living underground tended to have that effect.

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