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I glance down at the dress, then at him. “We’re acting like this matters.”
His eyes narrow, studying me like I’ve shifted shape in front of him. “It does.”
“No.Theymatter.” My voice doesn’t crack, but it edges close. “Lucien. Caspian. Orin. We haven’t moved an inch toward getting them back. We’re dressing up for a Council play while they’rerottingin Branwen’s court.”
“They’re not rotting,” Ambrose says calmly.
“No?” I snap. “Then what are they doing, Ambrose? Rehearsing for her next power grab? Entertaining her like loyal pets while we sip coffee and shop for outfits?”
His mouth hardens. “You think I don’t care?”
“I think you’ve already decided they’re lost.”
His silence answers before he does.
“They’re not lost, Luna. They’reheld.And there’s a difference.”
“Held is just a prettier word fortrapped.”
I look away, jaw clenched so tight it aches. The boutique feels colder now. Less velvet, more bone. Less opulence, more failure.
“I just…” I exhale, sharp. “I feel like we’re moving on without them.”
Ambrose steps closer, not quite touching. But near enough that I feel the gravity of him—pulling, pressing, refusing to let me drift too far.
“We’re not moving on,” he says. “We’resurviving.And when the moment comes, we’ll do more than that.”
I meet his gaze.
He holds it. I believe him. But that doesn’t stop the ache in my chest, the one with Orin’s name carved deep into it.
I nod, but my hands tighten around the fabric in my arms.I’m coming for you,I think.All three of you.
And this time—I’ll be dressed for war.
Riven
I don’t do nervous. I do rage. I do precision. I do brutal, bone-deep silence that warns the world not to fuck with me.
But this? This dull, crawling ache in my gut while I’m standing in front of the mirror tying a goddamn tie like I’m preparing for execution? This is as close as I’ll ever get.
We’re going out.
Not just me. Not just our group.
Everyone.
Other houses. Other factions. Other monsters dressed in glamor and etiquette, crawling out of their shadows to watch the play unfold like it doesn’t matter what we’ve lost, like the world isn’t tilting on a knife edge.
The pillar’s gone.
That ancient, bone-deep spell that kept us bound to Daemon for centuries—broken. The chain’s snapped. The gates are open. And yet, I’m still here. Clinging to walls that have never been home, pacing halls like I’m still trapped inside them.
Tonight, I step out for the first time—not to fight, not to chase power. Just… toexist.To play the part. Smile when expected. Look sharp. Stay still.
Fun.
Whatever the fuck that means.