Page 49

My heartbeat calmed down within the minute. The heat and the cold inside me took a step back, and when my eyes opened, the sound of the music and the whispers around me came back to my ears little by little. I was surrounded by so many people, and nobody was even looking my way.

I was okay.

But that woman wearing the green mask stayed in the center of my mind still.

I moved forward into the crowd, scanned my surroundings one more time to make sure Lyall wasn’t there, that he wasn’t coming after me, that he had noticed me gone. The doors to the Room of Whispers were still wide open with people coming and going, but no Lyall.

I shamelessly took advantage of the situation to go searching for Rune or to just disappear from this place for a moment until I had my thoughts in order.

Until I could think through what that woman really said to me and find a better explanation as to what she could have meant.

That’s all I needed—either Rune or a moment of peace and quiet.

So, I went ahead, eyes wide open, searching for that silver mask and black suit, for his silhouette that I would know anywhere, but if Rune hadn’t left the ball already, he was most certainly hiding somewhere I had yet to find.

I did find the third room that had opened in the ballroom, though—what I had no doubt the fae considered attractions. To me, they were anything but. Mirrors that didn’t reflect shapes, and silk curtains that whispered poetry? Nothing attractive about it.

The small golden plaque on the wall over the doors of the last room was engraved with the words Gallery of Time.

Not that I was interested in what that might mean, but a look inside told me that the crowd of fae coming and going in there was much smaller than out here in the ballroom, where most were dancing, swinging side to side, following the rhythm of the music.

More importantly, there were no mirrors and no pieces of silk hanging from the ceiling, ready to whisper to me if I went close enough.

Instead, the room was wide and round right into the doors, and then stretched into a corridor deeper.

It was full of beautiful flowers in vases as tall as me or atop cocktail tables covered in golden silk.

The walls were divided into panels, with paintings hanging on each one, the vivid colors portraying people that blinked and breathed and smiled.

I stopped on the threshold, unable to convince myself that what I was seeing was real, even after everything. It wasn’t even Hogwarts here, yet there were paintings on these walls, portraits of people who were blinking and moving, though slightly, breathing, sighing—and most were smiling, too.

Dumbfounded, I stepped into the room, wondering what more there was to Verenthia that could blow me away before I left.

The music suddenly became distant, and even though nobody spoke in this room, either, the sound of footsteps and people who came and went was much louder. It gave me a sense of normalcy.

I walked toward the wall on the right, to the painting closest to me without an audience in front of it, and my breath caught in my throat all over again .

Queen Elyra the Glimmering said the engraving hanging on the thick golden frame of the painting that was larger than my entire body.

Considering the woman’s hair color was identical to most Seelie fae I’d seen in Verenthia, I guessed she had been a Seelie queen. The line below her name said, Weaver of illusions so beautiful they induced madness.

The portrait showed the queen mid-laugh, and she moved her head slightly from side to side, blinked her golden eyes that were staring at something to the side, and she was surrounded by floating shards of light that flickered golden.

Strange but beautiful at the same time, and I don’t know why I got the feeling I’d have enjoyed a talk with this woman much, much more than with the current Seelie queen.

The next painting was of a man with dark hair, wearing armor painted black.

His left cheek was scarred, his lips turned to a frown.

He blinked, too, and he was breathing, his chest rising and falling slightly as he sat somewhere, the background a deep grey.

The crown made of silver and colorful gemstones sat heavy on his brow.

Below him the plaque said King Tyorin of the Midnights, followed by The Silent King, whose shadow still speaks.

I couldn’t even begin to understand what the hell that meant or why these paintings seemed to hold my attention so fully, but I was moving onto the next one as soon as the three fae women in front of it moved deeper into the room and made way.

Princess Sulen, the Unseelie Flame was a dark-eyed beauty with hair the color of fire, and with live flames coiling around her shoulders like a shawl.

Flames that moved, danced about just slightly, and though this one didn’t blink as she looked ahead, her peach-colored lips were slightly parted, and I could have sworn she was letting out short breaths.

Next was the Dutchess Caelis of the Frozen Court, and below her name were the words, The Vanished Halfling, destroyer of spells, and she had a silver tint to her skin, just like her hair.

Her eyes were blue, wide open as she looked to the side, like she could see the danger approaching and she was trying to be brave, not to run.

Queen Virella and the Crownless Twin Princes and Lady Noen were next, as well as King Aurel of the Four Thrones , the only fae who ruled all four fae courts for twelve days , the writing below his name said. His portrait was cracked in the middle, and his was the only one that did not move so far.

Then there was the Nameless Seer, who scared me shitless with the hood that covered her entire face and moved slightly with a wind only it could feel.

Princes Tura was next, who played a lyre made of bone as she smiled sneakily, and the description below said she made five kings fall in love with her, then betrayed them on the same day—which, really, can you blame the girl?

She was gorgeous, an Unseelie fae judging by her auburn hair, her face as perfect as the rest of them, but there was a spark in her eyes that was different from the others.

She’d known exactly what she was doing when she made those kings fall in love, then betrayed them.

Now I was really curious to know how she’d ended up, if she was even still alive.

I continued ahead, deeper into the room, farther into the narrow part that turned into a tunnel, with paintings on the rounded ceiling as well.

Fewer lights burned on the round lanterns on the walls, and there were far fewer masked fae with their drinks in their hands and their whispers on their lips.

It was exactly what I’d needed, some peace and quiet, a distraction, a little time away from everyone—and the more paintings I analyzed, the more I felt like I actually knew all these people personally.

Which could be the goal of making them move the way they did.

Whoever had created these really deserved a standing ovation.

Eventually, I was so deep into the tunnel that no more fae were close to me, and other than a few footsteps in the distance, I only heard my own.

I tried to speak out loud every now and again, mostly to the characters in the paintings, but no voice left my lips, only whispers, which confirmed that the magic of this ball stretched all the way here as well.

And that was okay. I didn’t panic anymore, I wasn’t afraid. Just like Rune said to me that day—so long as I could believe that everything that happened to me was normal, I would take back my power and I wouldn’t be afraid.