Page 61

Where the Night Holds Its Breath

M y room had never felt so alive.

Soft, sensual music pulsed through the air—otherworldly and rhythmic, threaded with silvery vocals and low, thrumming beats that made the floorboards hum.

It spilled from the enchanted crystal Lydia had brought in, which rotated slowly in midair and glowed with shifting hues of rose gold and moonlight. The spell was designed for parties, she’d said, but it worked perfectly for what we needed now.

Bethany twirled in front of the tall mirror near my wardrobe, holding a jeweled hairpin to her temple and squinting critically.

“What do you think?” she asked, turning her head so the pin caught the light. Her hair had been pinned in soft, cascading waves down one shoulder, woven with tiny charms that sparkled like captured starlight.

“It’s perfect,” Lydia said from where she sat at my vanity, carefully lining her eyes in a shade of smoky indigo. “Just dangerous enough.”

“That’s what I was going for,” Bethany said with a grin. “If Edric’s heart doesn’t skip a beat, I’ve failed.” She paused. “Not that I’ll ever admit that to him.”

I laughed softly, adjusting the earring in my left lobe as I glanced at my own reflection. My dress, deep wine red and layered in sheer panels embroidered with silver thread, shimmered with every movement.

My hair had been braided and coiled into a loose crown by Lydia’s skilled hands, a few curled tendrils left to fall along my cheekbones.

I looked like someone else.

Someone who belonged to this world of glass, lace, and candlelight. Someone untouchable.

“Elle,” Bethany said, her tone turning mischievous, “how are you feeling about tonight? You’ve been quiet.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “I’m excited.”

It wasn’t a lie. Not entirely.

“You sure?” Lydia asked gently, closing the makeup palette and leaning back in the chair. “After last night, I mean. You were feeling really off.” She looked at me through the mirror. “Are you okay now?”

There it was.

The question I’d been dreading.

I opened my mouth. Closed it again.

The truth clawed at the back of my throat: I was followed. I was meant to die. Olivia died in my place. Professor Crowe knew things I couldn’t explain. Cordelia had left me a trail, and someone else was watching me from the dark.

Yet how could I say that now?

Not with the candles flickering gently, not with the music washing over us like a spell, not with Bethany’s cheeks flushed from laughter and Lydia glowing with soft excitement. They were my closest friends. I owed them the truth.

Still, I couldn’t ruin this moment. Not yet.

“I’m alright,” I said softly, tucking a curl behind my ear. “I think it was just something in the chocolate. Honestly, the extra rest helped.” I forced a smile. “Tonight’s a fresh start.”

Bethany studied me for a moment, as if trying to peel back the layers. Then she gave a playful huff and turned toward Lydia.

“You know she’s just being shy about Samael.”

“I am not,” I said quickly, but I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks.

“Oh, come on.” Bethany leaned forward. “You’re going to the Ball with the most beautiful, mysterious, tragically dark-eyed man at the Academy. I want details.”

“You already have most of them,” I muttered, reaching for the obsidian teardrops to hang from my ears.

“That’s not the same as a proper romantic report,” Bethany said, flopping dramatically onto my bed. “You know, like—does he hold your hand when no one’s looking? Has he whispered any soul-shattering confessions into your ear lately? Does he smell as expensive as he looks?”

“He does, actually,” Lydia said dryly, tossing a wink in my direction.

I bit back a smile, finally letting the laughter rise in my chest.

“He asked me to the Ball. That’s all I know right now.”

“That’s not all you know,” Bethany said, pointing at me accusingly. “I saw the way you two looked at each other in the trinket shop. Like you were two minutes away from devouring each other on top of a display case.” She sighed dreamily. “That’s the kind of look I want to inspire.”

“You’ll be fine,” Lydia said with a teasing nudge. “You’ll have Edric wrapped around your finger by the end of the night.”

“As I should,” Bethany declared, fluffing her hair dramatically.

I let their banter wash over me, letting it loosen the tightness in my chest. For a little while, it was easy to forget what I’d learned last night. To exist in this small, safe room filled with floating music and the glow of firelight reflecting off glass.

Yet underneath it all, my thoughts kept circling.

The truth about Olivia. The hunter in the dark. Professor Crowe’s warning that not all threats hide in shadow—some of them smile in the light.

Not tonight, I told myself. Let them have this night. Let them laugh and dance.

Yet the guilt stayed with me like a shadow stitched to my heels.

“Elle?” Lydia’s voice pulled me back. “You drifted for a second.”

“Just thinking,” I said, fastening the last earring into place. I met her gaze. “About how quickly everything’s changing.”

Her expression softened. “We’re on the edge of something,” she said quietly. “You can feel it, too.”

I nodded.

Bethany sat up straighter, fluffing her skirts. “Well, then let’s meet whatever’s coming dressed like goddesses and smelling like stardust.”

We all laughed at that.

The soft rhythm of our heels tapped in harmony against the stone floor as we made our way down the spiral staircase. A chill greeted us at the landing, but it was crisp, almost invigorating—laced with the sweet bite of winter and magic.

As we stepped out into the courtyard, I saw them.

Waiting beneath the glow of suspended lanterns and soft falling snow were the boys—no, not boys tonight. Men. Each of them dressed in formal Academy attire tailored with their own flair, but it was the one in the center that made my heart lurch.

Samael.

He stood with the easy grace of a shadow at rest—hands in the pockets of a black velvet coat lined in silver thread, the collar turned slightly up against the wind.

His shirt beneath was only half buttoned, the top few undone, exposing the sharp lines of his collarbone.

And there, just above the fold of silk, was a mark I had never noticed before.

A tattoo—barely visible in the moonlight. Unlike the dragons curled in black ink around his forearms, this one shimmered faintly. Arcane. It stretched just beneath his collarbone like an ancient seal, curved and complex. It looked alive. Breathing.

His sleeves rolled just high enough to reveal the edges of his twin dragons, their scaled bodies seeming to coil tighter with every movement of his hands.

When he looked up at me, the smirk that usually played at the corners of his mouth was gone. In its place was something else—something raw, real, and reverent.

He stepped forward slowly, his gaze locked on mine. The others faded from the edge of my vision as if the moment had folded just for us.

“Elvana,” he said, voice low and reverent. “You look like starlight wearing mortal skin.”

My breath hitched.

He reached out, brushing the backs of his fingers along my cheek, then gently took my hand. “There are gods less beautiful than you are tonight.”

The words didn’t feel rehearsed. They felt pulled from the marrow of him.

I didn’t trust my voice, so I just smiled, suddenly shy beneath the weight of his attention. He looked at me like I was a constellation only he could name.

Beside him, Edric stood tall and effortlessly regal in a midnight-blue coat with silver piping, his hair slicked back and held by a single rune-etched clasp. He looked sideways at Bethany with a rare softness, something that tugged at the edge of a smile before he cleared his throat.

Leander, by contrast, was all ease and mischief, his grey suit subtly charmed to shimmer like frost when the light caught it. His tie bore the crest of his House, though loosely knotted, and his expression as Lydia approached was nothing short of captivated.

Vivienne was the last to turn, her arm tucked into Julian’s, who wore a storm-gray ensemble lined with gold. Her dress clung to her like moonlight wrapped in ice, its silver silk cut high at the leg and off the shoulder. Her hair was a cascade of sandy waves, lips painted blood red.

She looked beautiful, and she knew it—but her gaze, sharp and cold as polished glass, lingered on me and Samael with a fury she didn’t bother to hide.

“Shall we?” Leander asked, his voice light as he offered Lydia his arm.

We moved together, the group falling into step as we crossed the courtyard toward the Academy’s grand dining hall.

Its towering doors were flanked by enchanted flames that burned in elegant spirals of gold and ivory.

As we approached, the great oak doors opened on their own, welcoming us into a world transformed.

It was unrecognizable.

Gone were the round oak tables of day-to-day meals.

In their place: gleaming marble floors and floating chandeliers of glowing crystal.

Tables draped in shimmering linens lined the walls, laden with fruits dipped in sugared frost, trays of enchanted hors d'oeuvres that never cooled, and champagne fountains bubbling with golden light.

Bespelled instruments hovered in the air above the stage, playing soft, elegant waltzes that stirred something in the bones. The music felt like winter itself—cool and alluring, threaded with silver magic.

Every surface twinkled. Every detail, down to the floating snowflakes that never melted on skin, shimmered with the careful hand of enchantment.

Samael guided me to the dance floor with a touch so light, it felt like invitation more than command. He didn’t speak—just took my hand and pulled me gently into his arms.

He moved like water. Smooth. Sure. Dangerous in a way that made my breath hitch. His hand rested at the curve of my waist, and the space between our bodies felt charged. Alive. Like the air before lightning.