Page 68 of Whispers of Ruin

That thought alone is enough to strangle the fantasy at the root. I shove it out of my mind, lock the door behind me, and return to the only thing that matters:her.

Before waking my girl up, I take a moment to unfold the sheer bundle of fabric the boy nearly died delivering. Turns out, it is a gown—well, barely. A plunging neckline, a dripping collar of lace, and a train long enough to make Rapunzel consider a haircut.

I have never witnessed a woman’s initiation before. Apparently, there is a dress code—and it is one gust of wind away from indecency. I am not exactly thrilled about the transparency. The idea of anyone else seeing what is mine makes my jaw ache, but I swore I would not make this day about me.

Today ishersonly.

And I promised myself I would try just for once, to keep my guard down to a level slightly below feral.

“Morning, little fox. Go ahead—take a minute to wake up and let it sink in: this is not just a dream today either.”

Her lashes lift. That half-asleep glow in her eyes flickers to life the second she sees me. One hand finds its way into my hair.

“I wouldn’t trade this dream for anything,” she whispers.

I smirk, a little too proud of myself. “You’re cheesy.”

She grins, sleep-drunk and smug. “Obviously.”

I am starting to think I am the one still dreaming—because finding love like this, and worse, getting to keep it within the walls of the Order, feels like something out of a twisted fairytale. I used to believe I was built to be alone forever, cycling through fleeting conquests like empty glasses at the end of a long night. But no. Somehow, against all odds, even Xan Hayes gets a shot at happiness… as dark and bloodstained as it may be.

Iwake up for the second time, startled by how safe I feel despite everything. Xan had woken me earlier, whispering about needing to check on something, and promised he would be back soon. I must have mumbled a response, still tangled in sleep, because the next thing I knew, I was drifting off again, lulled by the soft echo of his voice and the fading scent of him in the room. Now, with the light filtering through the heavy curtains and brushing against my skin, I know it is time.

I sit up; the sheets falling away, and I catch sight of a robe.Therobe. It is draped over the chair like some sort of ceremonial threat, delicate and sheer, with a neckline so low it practically introduces itself before I even put it on and a train long enough to drown a girl if she wasn’t careful. A dress you wear when you are about to be reborn—or sacrificed.

Part of me wants to laugh—nervous, borderline hysterical—but another part feels oddly calm.

Because I know he will be there.

If he can survive this world with his heart still beating, then maybe… so can I.

I notice there is a note—small, folded, sitting on top of the desk.

“Back soon. Don’t be late for your own legend. — X.”

I smile despite the chill in the room. The bastard knows exactly what to say to twist a knot in my stomach. I rise slowly, legs tangled in the sheets, body sore in the best possible way. My fingers graze once again on the gown that was left behind.

It is… stunning. Barely there. Ethereal, something worn by the ghost of a goddess. I lift it in front of me, eyeing the delicate train and neckline that dips low enough to challenge modesty itself.

Was this really for an initiation—or a date?

Either way, I know I am wearing it. I know I am walking out of this room with my head high, even if I do not know what today holds.

I slip into the dress carefully, almost reverently. It feels like stepping into another skin—one I am not sure I have earned yet, but one that somehow fits like fate. My curves are barely concealed, but I do not shy away from my reflection. Not today.

Today, I become someone else. Or maybe… more of who I have always been.

I tame my hair with my fingers, then find a small clasp left on the dresser—a silver pin in the shape of a fox. A gift fromhim,I suppose. I slide it into place, just above my ear. For the first time in days, I smile at myself.

When I open the door, the hallway outside is quiet, but there is energy in the air—a thunder waiting just behind the clouds. I have no idea where I am going, not exactly. But I know who I’m looking for. And when I find Xan again, I will be walking toward my future—with blood in my veins, fire in my chest, and a name the Order will never forget.

Just as I am about to take another step down the hall, a soft knock interrupts the silence behind me. I turn. Standing in the hallway is a boy—barely sixteen. He is all nerves and too-big clothes, clutching a black envelope like it is ticking in his hands.

“Miss Vale…?” he asks, voice cracking halfway through.

I nod slowly.

“I have been sent to escort you… to the Rite.”

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