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Sterling looks at me like I’ve hung a second sun in the sky just for him.
The ball is tonight. In a few hours, we’ll have to play royalty again, parade in front of the court, and act as if nothing terrifies us anymore. But for now, there’s a soft place to land, and a future with at least one person who will always be in my corner. I glance around at my friends and family and the dragons wheeling in the sky, and I wonder, for a heartbeat, if this is what peace really feels like.
Sterling’s hand finds mine, and he squeezes gently. “Ready for the next hundred years?”
I nod, a little terrified, but mostly in love. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Chapter Fifty
Beneath my mask of gold filigree and flame-colored feathers, I watch the dancers twirl like exotic birds in flight. The masquerade fills our grand ballroom with swirling color and laughter that echoes against the vaulted ceiling.
Light glints off jewelry and sequined masks, off goblets of wine and the dewy skin of revelers who’ve danced too long without rest.
But everything is a beautiful, joyous lie.
This is our wedding reception, and we can’t even dance after the inaugural number. We’re stuck on the dais so the guests can come greet us and everyone can see.
Beneath this celebration, time ticks steadily toward tomorrow’s confrontation.
My heart counts each second with painful precision.
Sterling stands beside me on the raised dais, resplendent in his pure white suit and simple silver mask.
Swan and phoenix. Two birds who mate for life. One of fire, the other of water.
The music swells, a complex melody played by musicians positioned in the gallery above. Beneath them, our guests dance, drink, and laugh. Nobles from distant kingdoms, merchants wealthy enough to purchase invitations, and representatives from every corner of our world.
Many wear the wings of Tirene’s people as part of their costumes, a flattering mimicry that nonetheless causes my own wings to shift restlessly over my gown.
And then the air changes.
It’s subtle at first.
A thick bending of light that makes flames in the wall sconces waver. The music continues, but the notes seem to hang longer in the air, stretched like taffy.
My skin prickles with warning.
Something is coming. Something not of this mortal realm.
“Lark.” Sterling swivels his head, searching for the danger. My hand instinctively seeks his.
The air between us and the dancers ripples like heat over stone, and reality itself seems to fold inward, creating a space where no space should exist.
From that impossible fold, a figure trailing starlight like a cloak steps out, his perfect features arranged in an expression of amused contempt.
The Guardian.
Warden and protector of the realm of the gods. Not fully divine himself, but more than mortal. Someone who chose to serve the gods rather than humanity. His beautiful eyes hold the cold light of distant stars, and his golden hair seems to glow from within.
Around us, the ball continues, the dancers apparently oblivious to his arrival. A bubble of altered reality separates us from them. We can see the celebration, but the guests cannot see or hear what transpires on the dais.
“Clever.” The Guardian’s disdainful gaze drifts to me before immediately returning to Sterling, his dismissal obvious.
Dickhead. I summon a smirk. “We’re very clever.”
“Is that why you’re fighting your lover to the death on the morrow?” His tone is full of mockery.
My body stiffens, wings pressing hard against my gown. Sterling strides forward, positioning himself between me and the divine messenger in a protective gesture that prompts the Guardian’s lips to twitch with mirth.
