Page 81 of Heir of Illusion

“No promises!” I shout back.

His laughter follows me all the way back to the docks.

Chapter

Twenty-Two

The ballroom is a sea of glittering gowns and sparkling jewels.

Hidden away in one of the alcoves, I observe the revelry from afar. The lords and ladies flit through the room, offering warm compliments before whispering ugly comments behind each other’s backs. Bridgid stands in the center of the merriment, enjoying the fruits of her labor. She glides across the dance floor, wrapped in swathes of sparkly blue fabric that swooshes with each step she takes. Her blonde ringlets are piled high on her head and adorned with a decorative diamond comb that looks awfully similar to a tiara.

The bold choice only fuels the swirling rumors about her impending engagement to the king. Apparently, Darcus and Naomi took it upon themselves to share Bridgid’s suspicions with the entire court. At this point, the guests are clamoring for her attention, behaving as if the announcement is already a foregone conclusion.

I hope they’re right.

Several gentlemen, and even a few ladies, send admiring glances in my direction, but I can’t say I blame them tonight. My lady’s maids outdid themselves. They chose a rich burgundy gown that compliments my fair complexion beautifully. Tiny straps hold up the silk triangles that cup my full breasts, leaving nothing to the imagination. The dress is tight around my waist before flaring out slightly over my hips. A high slit allows for freedom of movement and gives me access to the blade I’ve brought, just in case.

In order to highlight my exposed back, Alva swept my deep copper waves into a messy chignon, with several loose pieces hanging down to frame my face. Meanwhile, Morwen applied her talents to my makeup, painting my lips the exact autumnal shade of my dress. As always, the only jewelry I’m wearing tonight is my collar, but I feel very pretty none the less.

I must admit, Bridgid did a marvelous job with the preparations. From the decorations to the refreshments, every lavish detail has been planned to perfection. Lord Darcus and Lady Naomi trail behind Bridgid, probably hoping some of the admiration being sent her way will trickle back to them. I roll my eyes, questioning why I ever sought their friendship in the first place. It likely had something to do with the fact that Bridgid is beautiful, charming, and adored by all the courtiers. Like her jealous companions, I was hoping some of that shine would rub off on me.

Speaking of courtiers, Kaldar and his brother, Lord Burgess, are currently surrounded by quite a few. By the way he’s holding court, you’d think Bridgid’s father is the one who’s about to become royalty. Condescension radiates off him as lords and ladies clamor for his favor, searching for a connection to the future queen.

Unlike Kaldar, his brother, Lord Simon Burgess, is quite handsome. I can see why he’s rumored to be their mothers favorite. His appearance is similar to his daughter’s, both sharing the same angular features and sour expressions. His fine hair is a shockingly pale shade of blond that hangs down to his waist.

Tired of observing the party guests, I turn my attention to the decor. This room is usually closed off, since Baylor rarely hosts balls. However, I’ve snuck in here a few times over the years, strangely drawn to the haunting mural that adorns the ceiling. The centuries-old artwork depicts an ancient battle between Saint Vera and the Novians. A lone woman battling an army of pure light. Though she didn’t survive that encounter, her bravery was remembered, and the Verran Isles were named in her honor.

There’s a darkness to the painting that has always captivated me. When I squint my eyes, I can make out terrible faces within the brightness of the Novians. It’s always bothered me that I can’t tell if their expressions are twisted with horror or hatred. Humanoid in shape, their bodies were made of the purest light. Their victims were lured in by the creatures’ otherworldly beauty, only to be devoured.

With my head titled back and my focus enraptured in the magnificence of the mural, I’m too distracted to notice the approaching footsteps.

“Having fun?”

My lips part on a gasp at the faint note of familiarity in the masculine voice, one I haven’t heard since that fateful night fifteen years ago. I turn and face him slowly, terrified to see how time has changed the sweet boy I once knew. My heart cracks as my gaze flicks over his features, so similar to my own. Though his hair is darker than mine, I spot a hint of auburn mixed with his brown strands, courtesy of our mother.

“Bellamy?” I whisper.

“It’s me, Ivy.” He steps forward, pulling me into his warm embrace.

Heat prickles behind my eyes as I breathe in his scent, awakening a rush of memories. Seven years my senior, Bel never fussed about being forced to chase me through the woods or attend tea parties with my dolls. He humored all my requests, happy to give me his time no matter the activity. Just like that horrible day I asked him to play hide and seek, only he wasn’t the one to find me.

I pull back, meeting his hazel eyes. There are dozens of questions I want to ask him, but not a single one of them rises to the tip of my tongue. I’m frozen by the years that stand between us.

“How are you?” he asks.

I open my mouth to lie, but somehow the truth pours out instead.

“Terrible.” Embarrassment fills me as his eyes widen, and my mouth feels suddenly dry. “And you?”

“About the same,” he admits.

An inappropriate giggle bubbles out of me. I clasp my hand over my mouth, trying to keep it in. Bel’s lips twitch and suddenly he’s laughing too. I wipe a small tear from my eyes, noting the glassy sheen coating his own.

“Look at you, Ivy,” he whispers, his voice full of something that sounds an awful lot like pride. “My baby sister, now a grown-up lady.”

An involuntary smile lights up my face. “I’m not sure I’m much of a lady, but I did grow up. How long are you staying?”

“Just for the night. Father’s insisting we leave tomorrow.”

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