Page 22 of The Curse of Ophelia

“May I?” She held a small gold charm in her hand. A pin, I realized, as she fastened it to the thin fabric of my dress above my left breast. “A family trinket for the important year you are entering. Allow it to guide you.” She squeezed my shoulder, and it felt pointed.

The pin was small, a cluster of tiny rose-colored gems beside a clouded blue one. It was an odd combination, but rather beautiful. A gift I’d treasure forever.

“Thank you.” I kissed her on the cheek.

“It’s as radiant as the woman wearing it,” Tolek said from behind me. He handed me a second glass of sparkling wine.

“You have excellent taste, young man.” My grandmother had always loved Tolek. In his tailored black jacket and fine white silk shirt, it was obvious she was correct.

“I think so, too.” He bowed slightly to her as she left, and I spied a faint blush against his tan skin. “Happy birthday, Ophelia.” He leaned in to kiss my cheek.

“Thank you, Tolek.” I grinned at him, my nose scrunching, and performed an exaggerated curtsy. Tolek had a manner of bringing proper behaviors out of me, yet at the same time encouraging me to act with reckless abandon, embracing my wild heart. The unique balance of etiquette and foolhardiness forged his own gleam in the world.

He extended his glass to clink against mine, and I pivoted to stand on his right side, keeping my Cursed wrist as far as possible. I may have made peace with my fate, but I did not need others concerned with it. Nor did I need to risk contaminating anyone else should I spill a drop of blood.

“Which among your guests do you believe will be the first to fall to the impurities of the evening, Alabath?” Tolek asked, wiggling his eyebrows at me as we surveyed the room. His hair was coiffed upward, more tamed than usual, and the highlights caught the light as he tilted his head toward me. The persistent scruff on his chin had been trimmed, but the shadows lingered, emphasizing the definition of his jaw and cheekbones.

“Ah, Vincienzo. I believe that is most likely to be ourselves,” I said, clinking my glass against his and taking a sip, batting my lashes over the rim as I did so.

Tolek’s eyes darkened, but he shook his head and shrugged, speaking stiffly, “Sometimes the most fun is found at the bottom of a glass, though my money is on Alvaron.” He tilted his head at the Master of Coin of the Mystique Council, who appeared to already be spilling hor d’oeurves down his shirtfront and laughing at himself with a glassy-eyed stare.

I laughed along with him, raking my eyes over the room for another target for our humor. It had been so long since we had had anything to celebrate. Though I felt energized at the thought, my cheer fueled by the secret on my wrist, my heart ached at the thought of who was missing.

How would this day have been spent if Malakai had not disappeared?I supposed it no longer mattered. If he were truly…I refused to think it, but if I were to die soon, perhaps we would be reunited. My heart fluttered wickedly at the idea.

“I have a gift for you,” Tolek began, but when Cyph, Rina, and Jezebel joined us, he whispered, “I’ll give it to you later.”

I frowned at him, but he only laughed.

“Not to upset you, sister, but your speech was rather…dismal.” Jezebel, resplendent in a gown of rose silk with a sheer décolletage and silver threading, crossed her arms.

“I thought it was fitting.” Cyph shrugged. His navy-blue jacket brought out the dark accents in his eyes as they crinkled with his grin.

“Thank you, Cyph. And thank you again for the present.” He had dropped off a matching set of exquisite daggers earlier, unsure how my guests would react to the gift given that I was no longer supposed to train. They were small, lethally sharp, and fit securely to each thigh. I should have known that our personal master of blades would have done as much.

Cypherion smiled at me, promising to show me how best to care for them.

“Useful,” Rina said, an edge of disapproval in her voice, if only for concern of us getting caught.

She had let her hair down from its usual ponytail tonight. It fell in an intimidating curtain around her shoulders and the plum-colored gown that skimmed her figure down to the floor. She raised a brow. To anyone else, the expression in her round eyes might have been sultry, but I read the challenge there.

I lifted my chin. “You’re jealous of my shiny new toys.”

“I had to ensure you’d like my gift as much,” Santorina said, tipping her glass toward mine.

“It’s perfect,” I told her of the perfume she had made specifically for me, laced with jasmine and citrus.

Around us, couples twirled across the floor without direction, not following a formal dance routine, but simply letting the music guide them. Operating on instinct fueled by the earth’s rhythm in our veins. Cypherion led Santorina to join while Jezebel disappeared to the buffet table.

“May I have this dance?” Tol asked, extending one hand to me and tucking the other behind his back.

My heart fluttered as I flashed him my most charming smile and assumed my most dignified tone. “Why, certainly you—”

But the words were stolen by an exigent presence that entered the room.

All eyes flocked to him. He nodded to my father but did not stop to greet him. Somehow, his light-as-air footsteps drowned out the music, echoing hollowly against the wooden floor.

An inexplicable chill seeped through my body as I took in his dark gray coat, so long it traveled well past his knees. He must have just arrived from Damenal if he was wearing such a protective jacket. Underneath, he wore shades of black so deep my mind could not perceive how they were real. The air around him seemed to vibrate. Out of intimidation or force of power, I couldn’t be sure.

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