Page 51 of Wings of Ash & Flame
“You haven’t even seen half of my wardrobe.” Kaia reemerged.
“Hot damn…” Alaire whistled. “Archer’s jaw is going to drop to the floor.”
Kaia twirled in front of the mirror. She had opted for a looser, flowing emerald silk blouse with bell sleeves, paired with high-waisted black trousers embroidered with delicate flowers. Her layered gold necklaces matched Alaire’s set, merging with the simple silver one she always wore.
“So, you finally saw reason?”
Kaia stuck out a foot, showing off her own slippers. “You’re right. There’s no reason you can’t be stylishandcomfortable. Though those boots are so beautiful.” Her auburn curls were pinned half up, half down, with tiny tendrils framing her face. “Ready?”
Alaire gave a begrudging nod.
Kaia linked their arms. “Tonight, everyone will be staring at you for an entirely different reason than trying to plot your demise.”
“Can’t wait,” Alaire mumbled. “Where exactly is this party?”
“Not too far,” Kaia said lightly. “You’ve been there before, but I bet you haven’t seen it like this.”
“How did you hear about it anyway?”
“Someone mentioned it at breakfast while you were salivating over the jam selection—and then zoning out, staring at your bread.”
Her cheeks heated. She hadn’t realized she zoned out that often. Everything at Aeris Academy had grown so complicated so quickly. She thrived on having a plan. Here, all the variables orbited far beyond her reach.
She’d made no progress since discovering those files in Professor Ross’s office. Countless hours in the library yielded nothing, and she hadn’t dared risk revisiting his office.
“Anyhow, after endless hours of studying and training, I decided we deserved a break.”
“How thoughtful of you,” Alaire said.
“I knew you’d see the magnanimous generosity of my ways.”
The flagstone path was smooth beneath her slippers until it rose in a slight incline, and the flimsy soles gave her no traction. Alaire muttered a curse. “This better be the best damn party in the entire realm for making me walk uphill in these shoes.”
“Quit complaining. If you can knock out a huge fae, you can get your bony ass up this hill in flats.”
Alaire responded with incoherent grumbling.
By the time they crested the hill, a light film of sweat clung to her back.
The Obscurum Atrium housed her least favorite class: Illusions and Mind Magic, where elemental wielders of House Cerebral honed their skills in weaving illusions and mind work. The building, though still crowned with pointed arches and spires, was lighter than the rest of campus, its whitewashed stone softened by lush green ivy and strings of white blooms draped artfully over the balustrades. Like everything else the fae designed, it was breathtaking.
“Let’s go.” Kaia tugged her forward. A heavy set of black doors contrasted with the airy decor. Inside, conversation buzzed around them. Students from all over the academy mingled and laughed, the air rich with the fresh scent of flowers.
No one stopped to look in their direction.
Alaire stepped farther inside, letting the atmosphere seep into her bones. The weight of her thoughts melted away, replaced by a lightness she hadn’t realized she needed. Kaia grabbed her hand, laughing as she pulled her toward the heart of the atrium.
“Come on, let’s see if the human can let loose as well as she fights,” Kaia teased, her voice bright with excitement.
Alaire couldn’t help but smile back, catching the infectious joy and wild freedom. “I do nothing halfway.”
Many of the fae were dressed extravagantly—scraps of lace and silk, brocade jackets without shirts, and jewel tones that made the room feel alive. Everyone seemed delighted to wear something other than the academy’s black uniforms.
Whoever had organized the party had gone all out. A dance floor stretched over the stone, and endless flowers cascaded across the arches—courtesy of earth wielders from House Arborstone. Pergolas were draped with walls of falling vines,creating an illusion of privacy, while low moans of pleasure drifted from shadowy corners, proof that some guests were indulging in more than just dancing.
No sign of Dawson. Her breath loosened.
Across the room, a bar served drinks in blown-glass cups shaped like stars and flowers.
