Page 13 of Storm of Stars (Pride of Praxis #2)

CHAPTER

SEVEN

Bex

The studio where we’d done our interview had been completely transformed for the Entertainment Trial.

The stage was a towering display of lights and tech, like the rigs they hauled in every year for the vote, only bigger, bolder, more extravagant.

It pulsed with energy, the air thick with anticipation and something sharp beneath it.

Nova swept in like a cloud of gold and glitter, her outfit catching the light with every movement.

She rounded us all up and ferried us to wardrobe, my men being ushered down the hall, Briar and I sequestered into a separate dressing room where the expected happened.

We were shoveled into black outfits, glinting with studs and sequins, tailored to perfection.

Predictable, but still striking. Nova spent extra time at the makeup table, her hands surprisingly steady as she painted thick, dark lines across my eyelids, then turned to Briar.

And God, if Briar didn’t already stop hearts, she did now.

The heavy, smokey makeup made her look dangerous, otherworldly.

I’d be lying if I said my skin didn’t still hum from her 'singing lessons' earlier, and standing there now, watching her reflected in the mirror, the heat beneath my skin curled tighter, mixing with the steady hum of nerves about what came next.

Nova, for all her irritating qualities, had a gift with a brush.

“No one’s ever done a duet in these trials,” Nova commented, her voice light, but I couldn’t tell if it was admiration or a veiled warning.

“Then we’ll have the element of surprise, if nothing else,” Briar shot back, squeezing my hand so tightly I was sure she could feel my pulse pounding in my palm. Nova’s eyes caught the movement, lingered a second longer than expected, then flicked up to meet ours.

“Your little team,” she began, and I braced for the blow, “has been very entertaining to watch.” She gave the smallest of smiles. “I don’t root for Challengers. Almost never. But if I did… I might root for you.”

Nova was everything Praxis worshipped, wealth, excess, superiority masked as charm. So, if even a sliver of what we were doing had cracked something in her, maybe, just maybe, we weren’t fighting a losing battle.

“Thanks, Nova,” I murmured.

She gave a short nod, her expression slipping back into the familiar mask of calculated detachment. “Briar, I need you to come with me. Brexlyn has a visitor.”

My stomach dropped.

“Who?” I asked, too quickly.

“You’ll see soon enough.” She held out a hand to Briar, who hesitated only long enough to cast me a worried look.

“I’m okay,” I whispered, leaning in to brush a kiss against her lips. “I’ll see you soon.”

She gripped her guitar, her fingers white-knuckled around the neck, then followed Nova out, leaving me alone in the dressing room. The quiet felt heavier without her there. And all I could do was wait, my mind spinning with every possible name of who could be asking for me now.

After an agonizing stretch of silence, the door hissed open, and in stepped Archon Evanora Veritas.

The woman was a vision of lethal opulence, draped in a shimmering gold pantsuit with a sharp, fanned peplum that flared like a blade around her hips.

The fabric shimmered in the dim light, glinting like cracked glass, as though even brushing against her would leave you bleeding.

I instinctively stood, taking a few careful steps back, granting her a wide berth. The door slid shut behind her, and the suffocating weight of the room multiplied. It felt smaller now. Claustrophobic. Like the walls had shifted closer.

Her gaze moved over me with slow, measured precision, not like someone seeing a person, but like a predator weighing the weakness of its prey.

“Miss Hollis,” she said at last, her voice velvet-smooth and laced with something sharp. Every syllable soft, every undertone venomous. “I’ve been… eager to meet you.”

I swallowed, feeling the coil of sickness twist tight in my stomach. “I’m honored to have earned your attention,” I managed, the words brittle and paper-thin.

Did she know? About the messages we’d been sending. About the song? About the veiled message Briar and I had woven into tonight’s performance, a rally cry buried beneath metaphor and melody?

“I’m sure you are,” Evanora murmured, stepping further into the room. I could feel the air shift as she moved, like the static charge before a lightning strike. “Do you know why I wanted to come see you?”

I shook my head, keeping my voice level. “I can’t imagine it’s to wish me luck.”

She gave a low, humorless chuckle, dark as a grave.

“No, darling, I don’t think you need luck.

” Her fingers trailed idly across the edge of a counter as she spoke, her nails clicking softly against the metal.

“I’ve watched your performances, Miss Hollis.

And I think you’re clever enough to recognize the…

influence you’ve accumulated during your time in the Reclamation Run. ”

Her gaze pinned me in place again, the room closing in. I fought the urge to shrink.

“I guess I’ve earned a few fans,” I said carefully.

“Don’t be modest,” she hissed, like the words themselves were a warning. “And while you’re at it, don’t pretend you’re pleased to see me. I intend to be very candid with you here tonight, Miss Hollis and I’d appreciate it if you do the same.”

I swallowed hard. “Okay.”

She smiled then, a thin, wicked curve of her lips. “You’re popular in a way we haven’t seen in years. The kind of popularity Praxis finds… dangerous.”

The word hung in the air like smoke, and I tensed beneath her stare.

“Do you know why?” she asked, a brow arching.

“I have a sinking feeling you’ll tell me,” I said, truthfully.

Her smile sharpened. “Because you outnumber us.”

The words landed like a blow. I felt my stomach drop, my pulse hammer in my ears.

“The Collectives,” she went on, taking another step forward. “You’re the kind of person who could remind them of that fact. Remind them that the power of the people could drown the people in power.”

I didn’t move. Couldn’t. She was too close now. The room felt starved of air.

“You’re wondering why I’m telling you this,” she said, head tilting like a serpent before a strike.

I nodded stiffly.

“Because, Miss Hollis,” she purred, “I didn’t claw my way to this throne by ignoring rebellion. I built Praxis by cutting the heads off snakes before they had the chance to slither through my gates.”

I swallowed the knot in my throat. “Let me guess. I’m the snake?”

A real smile now, one that chilled the marrow of my bones. “You are, darling. But I’m feeling… charitable.”

She circled me slowly, a predator savoring the moment before the kill.

“I have a deal for you,” Evanora whispered. “Spend the next four trials showering Praxis with praise. Show them how grateful you are for all we’ve given you. Make the Collectives believe you’re loyal. That you’ve been tamed.”

“And if I do that?” I asked tightly.

“Then I’ll save your brother’s life.”

The air rushed out of my lungs. My knees nearly buckled.

“What?” My voice was nothing but a rasp.

“I’ll have a private physician assigned to him. All the medicine, all the treatments, everything he needs.”

It felt too good to be true. It was. “Until the next Run, you mean.”

She leaned in close, her perfume cloying, her voice a deadly promise. “I mean forever.”

I stared at her, feeling the weight of the chains being fastened around my throat.

“And if I refuse?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Her smile vanished, and something cold and ancient flashed in her eyes. “Then you’ll bury your brother.”

The room was silent, except for the ragged sound of my breathing.

“I look forward to you showing me what you decide during tonight’s trial,” she murmured, brushing a hand across my shoulder as she passed. It felt like ice.

The door hissed open behind her, and Evanora Veritas stepped through it leaving nothing but her offer, and the suffocating presence behind.

I braced my hands on the cold metal counter, my breathing ragged as panic clawed its way up my throat, threatening to drown me.

My whole body trembled under the crushing weight of what had just happened.

The room felt smaller now, suffocating me with the memory of her voice, of those venom-laced words.

I didn’t even hear the door open, but the moment a pair of hands gripped my shoulders, I flinched, a choked sound escaping me.

And then I felt the warmth of familiar touch, grounding me.

Slowly, I turned, my vision clearing enough to see my Wildguard.

Each of them wore a different expression, but the same fear etched into their eyes.

“What’s wrong, love?” Thorne asked, his voice low, but brittle as glass ready to shatter.

“Was that Archon Veritas we saw leaving your room?” Zaffir’s words were tight, his jaw clenched so hard the muscles twitched.

Briar didn’t say anything at first, she just took my hand, her grip firm, solid. A tether.

Ezra, though, looked like a man seconds from murder, his fists balled so tightly his knuckles were bloodless. His gaze flicked toward the door like he might chase her down and finish what Praxis started years ago.

I managed a shaky nod. “She knows…”

Thorne’s face drained of color. “All of it?”

“Not… specifics,” I said, my voice little more than a ghost of itself. “But she knows we have the power to start something. She knows that I know it, too.”

Some of the tension eased from them, but not much. The threat still hung thick in the air, an executioner’s blade suspended above us all.

“What did she want?” Ezra demanded, his voice sharp, brittle with barely restrained violence.

“She offered me a deal,” I whispered.

“What kind of deal?” Briar finally spoke, his voice low, bracing for the worst.

“She said… if I calm the rebellion… if I convince everyone that I’m loyal to Praxis… she’ll make sure Jax gets medicine. And doctors. For the rest of his life.”