Page 151 of Wings of Ash & Flame
“A gift you’d be wise to tuck away,” Archer warned. “Lest you’d prefer this to be the final ball you attend.”
“Yes, sir.” Alaire unwound her arm from Kaia’s to give him a mocking salute.
Inside, the ballroom was encased entirely in glass, offering an unbroken view of the stars. The mosaic of constellations needed no other décor—Umbra’s true masterpiece.
A cascading ebony staircase led to the revelry below.
Alaire drew a breath. Tonight had a purpose, and none of it could be accomplished if her entrance went unnoticed.
“Here goes nothing.” She rolled back her shoulders, spine straightening.
Kaia and Archer flanked her. “We’re coming with you,” Kaia said.
Alaire opened her mouth to argue, but Kaia’s scowl silenced her.
“Together,” Kaia insisted.
“Together,” Archer and Alaire echoed.
Bracketed by her friends, Alaire descended with regal grace, each step deliberate.
The earlier hum of celebration seemed to wane at her entrance.
She felt the eyes that followed her, noted the pauses. Some lingered on her rounded ears. Word had no doubt spread: the heir to the Vallorian throne was not wholly fae.
Kaia and Archer guided her through introductions, nodding and exchanging pleasantries. Most regarded her with curiosity; some with disdain. Integrating into Elithian’s elite was paramount, and this was her debut.
Eventually, murmurs resumed.
Her dress swished across the floor as she greeted guests, committing names and titles to memory, mind whirring with assessments.
In the background, glass clinked, laughter flared, and the tightness in her shoulders began to ease.
Across the room, Professor Ross stood near the wall, champagne flute in hand, eyes fixed on her. When their gazes met, he raised his glass. Watching.
She turned her back. Alaire had no time for his games. Tonight, she needed information—and Dexter Vale was first on her list.
She spotted him across the room, holding court, conversation animated.
Archer’s grip found her arm. Following her line of sight, he whispered, “Vale’s speaking with nobles of House Aetheris. That cluster controls most of Cielore’s power.”
Of course. Dexter leeching status from anyone he could.
Archer drew Kaia into small talk while Alaire’s gaze stayed locked on her target.
It still baffled her how so few commanded so much. Dexter stood tall in a black satin suit, eyes gleaming with cunning. His posture was relaxed, but every gesture radiated calculated control.
In his dreams.
Power was his drug of choice. The way he leaned in slightly to punctuate a point said everything: he had no intention of loosening his grip on that addiction.
“Al, Archer wants a drink. You coming?”
She shook her head. “I have something to do first. I’ll meet you at the bar.”
Kaia’s puzzled look shifted as Alaire tipped her head toward Dexter.
While Archer greeted an acquaintance, Kaia leaned closer. “Be careful.”
