Page 21 of Storm of Stars
“Luck’s got nothing to do with it, Hollis,” I whispered, my heart pounding in the quiet space between us. “If we succeed. If we finally finish what my Ma started. It’ll be because of you.”
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Bex
The studiowhere we’d done our interview had been completely transformed for the Entertainment Trial. The stage was a towering display of lights and tech, like the rigs they hauled in every year for the vote, only bigger, bolder, more extravagant. It pulsed with energy, the air thick with anticipation and something sharp beneath it.
Nova swept in like a cloud of gold and glitter, her outfit catching the light with every movement. She rounded us all up and ferried us to wardrobe, my men being ushered down the hall, Briar and I sequestered into a separate dressing room where the expected happened. We were shoveled into black outfits, glinting with studs and sequins, tailored to perfection. Predictable, but still striking. Nova spent extra time at the makeup table, her hands surprisingly steady as she painted thick, dark lines across my eyelids, then turned to Briar.
And God, if Briar didn’t already stop hearts, she did now. The heavy, smokey makeup made her look dangerous, otherworldly. I’d be lying if I said my skin didn’t still hum from her 'singing lessons' earlier, and standing there now, watching her reflectedin the mirror, the heat beneath my skin curled tighter, mixing with the steady hum of nerves about what came next.
Nova, for all her irritating qualities, had a gift with a brush.
“No one’s ever done a duet in these trials,” Nova commented, her voice light, but I couldn’t tell if it was admiration or a veiled warning.
“Then we’ll have the element of surprise, if nothing else,” Briar shot back, squeezing my hand so tightly I was sure she could feel my pulse pounding in my palm. Nova’s eyes caught the movement, lingered a second longer than expected, then flicked up to meet ours.
“Your little team,” she began, and I braced for the blow, “has been very entertaining to watch.” She gave the smallest of smiles. “I don’t root for Challengers. Almost never. But if I did… I might root for you.”
Nova was everything Praxis worshipped, wealth, excess, superiority masked as charm. So, if even a sliver of what we were doing had cracked something in her, maybe, just maybe, we weren’t fighting a losing battle.
“Thanks, Nova,” I murmured.
She gave a short nod, her expression slipping back into the familiar mask of calculated detachment. “Briar, I need you to come with me. Brexlyn has a visitor.”
My stomach dropped.
“Who?” I asked, too quickly.
“You’ll see soon enough.” She held out a hand to Briar, who hesitated only long enough to cast me a worried look.
“I’m okay,” I whispered, leaning in to brush a kiss against her lips. “I’ll see you soon.”
She gripped her guitar, her fingers white-knuckled around the neck, then followed Nova out, leaving me alone in the dressing room. The quiet felt heavier without her there. And allI could do was wait, my mind spinning with every possible name of who could be asking for me now.
After an agonizing stretch of silence, the door hissed open, and in stepped Archon Evanora Veritas. The woman was a vision of lethal opulence, draped in a shimmering gold pantsuit with a sharp, fanned peplum that flared like a blade around her hips. The fabric shimmered in the dim light, glinting like cracked glass, as though even brushing against her would leave you bleeding.
I instinctively stood, taking a few careful steps back, granting her a wide berth. The door slid shut behind her, and the suffocating weight of the room multiplied. It felt smaller now. Claustrophobic. Like the walls had shifted closer.
Her gaze moved over me with slow, measured precision, not like someone seeing a person, but like a predator weighing the weakness of its prey.
“Miss Hollis,” she said at last, her voice velvet-smooth and laced with something sharp. Every syllable soft, every undertone venomous. “I’ve been… eager to meet you.”
I swallowed, feeling the coil of sickness twist tight in my stomach. “I’m honored to have earned your attention,” I managed, the words brittle and paper-thin.
Did she know? About the messages we’d been sending. About the song? About the veiled message Briar and I had woven into tonight’s performance, a rally cry buried beneath metaphor and melody?
“I’m sure you are,” Evanora murmured, stepping further into the room. I could feel the air shift as she moved, like the static charge before a lightning strike. “Do you know why I wanted to come see you?”
I shook my head, keeping my voice level. “I can’t imagine it’s to wish me luck.”
She gave a low, humorless chuckle, dark as a grave. “No, darling, I don’t think you need luck.” Her fingers trailed idly across the edge of a counter as she spoke, her nails clicking softly against the metal. “I’ve watched your performances, Miss Hollis. And I think you’re clever enough to recognize the… influence you’ve accumulated during your time in the Reclamation Run.”
Her gaze pinned me in place again, the room closing in. I fought the urge to shrink.
“I guess I’ve earned a few fans,” I said carefully.
