Chapter 18

EIGHTEEN

My first move—after strenuously objecting and suffering through an explanation of why a new dress was necessary—was to beg for Kira’s help. I understood next to nothing about fashion or formal events, and she was the only woman I knew that I figured I could trust to advise me.

As it turned out, Kira and Marilee Springvale were friends, and both of them found the idea of dressing me up for the formal banquet vastly entertaining. As soon as Kes and Ari were safely back at the hostel, they dragged me off on a tour of trendy little boutiques where perfectly groomed salespeople looked at me with wide eyes that suggested they’d just barely managed not to ask what I was doing there.

I felt like a walrus at the ballet, following Kira and Marilee around, watching them argue over dresses, then allowing myself to be stuffed into one after the other while knowing perfectly well that I couldn’t afford any of them. Thankfully, I could honestly say they were all either too tight, too bright, too fluffy… too something . It wasn’t until the third boutique, when I was about to give up and proclaim dramatically that I would go in my work clothes or not at all, when one finally caught my eye.

I couldn’t even have said why. It was white, which would only call attention to my strange hair color. Not to mention I would manage to get it dirty within the first ten minutes. But something about it said mine .

Besides the color, I didn’t know the right terms for the rest of it. Marilee called it mermaid style, with a one-shoulder cap sleeve and a cape falling from the top of the shoulder all the way to the floor. But it was the elusive, shimmering pattern of sequins sewn onto the fabric that I kept staring at. They swirled and scintillated in the light, sometimes silver, sometimes blue, like a waterfall in winter, always in motion, always just out of reach.

The sales lady huffed and proclaimed it the wrong color for me, for the season, for everything, but I decided on impulse that I might as well at least try it on. And when I finally managed to wriggle into it and emerge from the dressing room—still feeling like a walrus, albeit this time a walrus in a fancy dress—Kira’s face froze in a peculiar expression of shock.

“Yes,” she said, nodding fiercely while her hands made little grabby motions. “Just, yes .”

“I wouldn’t have thought so, but… I agree.” The naiad shrugged and grinned at me. “It’s you. Or maybe it’s that it makes you even more you. Which doesn’t make sense, but I think you know what I mean.”

Strangely enough, after braving a look in the mirror, I did.

For almost ten years, I’d felt like a stranger in my own body. Avoided looking at my reflection. It wasn’t only the hair and the eyes. It was what they represented—the heritage of power that didn’t belong to me. I was sharing my body with ghosts, and I hated the reminder.

But the woman in the mirror… She didn’t look like a coward. She wasn’t afraid of her power, or the ones who’d stolen her life. She took what they’d done to her, forged armor from her scars, and chose to fight back.

I’d set my foot on that path, but it wasn’t until I faced my own reflection that I realized I was still hesitating. Part of me remained in hiding, bound by guilt as much as by fear. I’d told Callum I wanted to fight, but if the moment came where I was forced to choose between revealing the truth and continuing to hide who I’d become… Which way would I turn?

Could I own up to my scars if it meant losing all of the fragile new connections I’d formed since coming here?

“Well, that’s one thing down,” Kira said brightly. “Shoes and hair?”

I’d been so lost in my own thoughts, I’d almost forgotten I still needed to make an excuse for not buying the dress.

“I need to think about it,” I told her briskly. “And I don’t really want to draw attention to my hair. Do we have to do anything special to it?”

Marilee laughed, and the sound was exactly what I would have expected from a naiad—an effervescent peal of joy, echoing with the sounds of rippling water. It reminded me of spring and happiness and made me wish I could hear her laugh again, even if I knew it was at my expense.

“Your hair,” she said, once she’d stopped chuckling at my naivety, “is going to draw attention no matter what, because it’s gorgeous . But even if you want to wear it down, it still needs to be styled for an event like this. Why don’t you get changed and then we can go chat about it over a late lunch?”

I’d heard of this sort of thing—lunch with the girls. Girl talk. Bonding time over bowls of salad. It might be less terrifying to face Talia again, but before I could figure out a polite way to object, I was bundled back into the dressing room.

The saleslady asked for the dress back while I was still buttoning my shirt, as if she suspected I might try to steal or damage it, so I handed it over with a fake smile. Promising myself silently that someday, I would be able to afford a dress that made me feel that way again.

No, it wasn’t really about the clothes. More like a goal. Something to work towards. A reason to learn to be comfortable in my own skin.

When I emerged, Kira was wearing an expression of puppy-like innocence and Marilee was smirking as the saleslady shoved a dress bag into my hands.

“Thank you so much for choosing Très Beau for your formal event needs,” she said with a wide, fake, customer-service smile.

“But I didn’t…”

“Thank you,” Marilee chirped politely in return, before grabbing my arm and physically tugging me out of the store behind her.

“I said I had to think about it,” I hissed, almost stumbling as I recalled the staggering price tag hanging from the gorgeous white gown.

“And we’re very, very sorry,” Kira said, not sounding even remotely repentant. “But you need to wear that dress, so we decided to buy it. We knew you wouldn’t let us do it if we told you beforehand, so we resorted to subterfuge. As penance, we’ll take you wherever you want to go for lunch.”

For a moment, I didn’t actually know how to feel, let alone what to say. I tried to be mad, and failed. I was definitely a little embarrassed—they’d obviously known why I was hesitating. But why should I feel ashamed of my situation? I’d had everything taken from me, and I was fighting my way back a little at a time.

And this formal dress-up party had never been my idea. It was part of my job. I was literally being paid to wear a fancy gown and mingle with powerful people for an evening, and hopefully to prevent anyone from committing murder or starting a war in the process.

And if there was a tiny part of me that wondered whether Callum would like the way I looked while I was doing it?

I carefully stuffed that delusional part of myself back down where it belonged.

“I feel like maybe you don’t actually know what penance means,” I muttered, before offering them both a wobbly smile. “But thank you. Someday I’ll pay you back, even if it’s not with money.”

“If you can keep my brother safe,” Kira said softly, “I’ll be more than repaid.”

I wished I could promise her that. “I’m going to try,” I said instead.

“Then that’s payment enough for me.”

That’s when she hugged me and everyone started crying and I was very thankful a certain dragon wasn’t there to see me turn into a squishy, emotional mess.

Lunch ended up being far more enjoyable than I’d feared. We had barbecue instead of salad, and no one asked personal questions, as if they knew I might hesitate to answer. Instead, Kira and Marilee both shared a bit of their own stories—including how Kira had been stolen from the dragons, was raised as a human, and eventually forged a new family in Oklahoma City. Turned out, Marilee was a part of that new family—a daughter of the naiad royal line who had ended up working for Faris in an effort to establish her own identity.

They were so frank and welcoming, I ended up feeling almost sorry when I realized I was running late and had to return to the hostel to dress for the reception.

My task for the evening was to hover on the edges of the proceedings and observe, while waiting for orders like a proper assistant. To fit that role, I chose to wear the nicest of my new dark pants and jackets, with a crisp, white, collared shirt beneath. There would be other outsiders in attendance, such as the caterers, wait staff, and possibly the spouses or mates of some of the delegates, so my uniform wouldn’t stand out as unusual. And Callum had assured me that several of the other delegates would have brought personal protection disguised as something else, so I wouldn’t be the only one.

Thanks to my late lunch, by the time I returned to The Assemblage, the atmosphere surrounding the building was already sharp with anticipation as the delegates began to arrive. There was no red carpet like humans would have had, but there was a black one from the street to the front door, lined with ropes and lit by glittering lanterns, with a handful of curious human reporters on hand to snap pictures.

One by one, cars and SUVs with dark tinted windows pulled up to the curb to deliver their important passengers, all of whom I’d been thoroughly briefed on during the preceding week—both their identities and the level of threat each one was likely to present.

Talia, of course, required no introduction. She arrived in a silver Audi, wearing a white pantsuit that emphasized her height and imposing bearing. She also very pointedly refused to look at me as she seemed to float her way into the building, accompanied by the rest of the elemental delegates.

Each delegation consisted of five people, which, for the elementals, included their queen, plus one representative from each element. Most dangerous of the lot, according to Callum, was Fiona—air elemental and one of the last few Idrians on earth capable of portal magic. This ability meant she’d been protected and indulged for most of her life, which had left her both spoiled and petulant.

Fiona was short and curvy, with golden blonde hair and a sun-kissed tan, and she stepped out of the Audi on Talia’s heels before entering the building on the arm of Xander, the fire elemental—a tall, jaw-droppingly gorgeous man with brown skin, wavy dark hair with threads of gray, and a devastating smile. He was one of the first Idrians born on Earth, and somehow radiated both gravitas and effortless charm.

Directly behind them were Jasper and Isis—the earth and water representatives. They appeared middle-aged and unremarkable, but Heather had assured me the pair possessed a great deal of power, plus a wealth of experience in navigating tricky political situations. Both were seneschals—court-appointed enforcers responsible for policing interactions between Idrians and humans—and were therefore theoretically well-versed in human law and behavior.

While the elemental delegation entered the building together and seemed to move as a unit, the wildkin arrived separately over the course of an hour—a smirking goblin with silver braids, an older troll woman dressed in half armor, a glowing pixie wearing a flower crown on his close cropped bronze hair, and Marilee, her nearly transparent hair sparkling as it reflected the glow of the lanterns. Leith arrived last and least ostentatiously, though there was no mistaking the wary attention he drew from the other attendees.

None of the wildkin wore glamour, I noted, unlike the fae delegates, who pulled up in a single vehicle, all wearing elegant, dark tunics and tall boots—rather like escapees from a fantasy convention. Four were glamoured into the form of unnaturally beautiful humans—one man and three women—and then there was Rath, whose dark skin and short silver hair made a striking picture against the midnight fabric of his high-collared jacket.

The shapeshifters arrived at the same time, but in separate cars, and seemed both stiff and wary of each other. Joining Callum were a wolf, a lion, a gryphon, and a bear. The bear was a tiny black woman with short hair, while the gryphon was nearly six feet tall and a statuesque blonde with wintery pale skin. Bears were more solitary, even as shifters, so Yolande had been elected solely for the purpose of the Symposium. Niadre, the gryphon, was another seneschal and the sister of their king, who hadn’t left the gryphon enclave in over twenty years. The wolf—Luis—was a stocky man of average height, with brown skin and long, dark hair pulled into a ponytail. The lion was possibly the oldest delegate—a tall, rangy, white man with gray hair and a long beard, who was dressed in suspenders and a bow tie. Paul was his name, and no one actually knew how old he was, only that he’d come through the portals from Idria with his entire family and set up what amounted to a shifter kingdom in the woods of West Virginia.

Once the last of the attendees had entered the building, I abandoned my post outside and slipped through the foyer into the main reception hall, taking up a position along the east wall that allowed me to keep the entire room in my field of vision.

I was too short to see over the heads of the closest delegates, but the room was not overly large, and thankfully the atmosphere so far was relatively quiet, if tense. Conversations seemed muted, and I could sense the different delegations watching one another with wary caution.

From everything I’d heard, this might be the first time the four courts had assembled this way since setting foot on Earth as refugees. Symposiums had traditionally been held every five years in Idria, but they had often been marked by violence and battles for dominance. Even now, I noted that the members of each court clustered together, not necessarily trusting one another, but trusting the other delegations even less.

Did Callum’s efforts even stand a chance, if none of the different groups could manage to stop glaring long enough to work together?

After what seemed an uncomfortably long wait, the doors from the foyer opened one last time to admit the final two delegates—Faris Lansgrave and Callum-ro-Deverin.

The earth elemental barreled through the doorway like a landslide moving downhill—implacable, unstoppable, and without even a momentary hesitation. He was wearing—quite surprisingly—a suit, though the top button of his white shirt was undone and featured no tie. He’d even trimmed his beard and styled his hair for the occasion, but still managed to look more like a bear than the actual bear shifter.

And Callum… Oh, Callum. His suit was charcoal gray, and he’d also chosen to forego the tie. His hair was tamed into just barely wavy perfection, and his eyes flashed as he strode into the room like the apex predator he was.

Heads turned. Conversations paused. For a moment, no one seemed to know where to look, and I could almost sense the questions and the calculations—which of these two was actually the more dominant, and would there be any conflict while they determined the answer?

“Welcome, everyone.” The silence made it a simple matter for Callum’s greeting to be heard in all corners of the room. “Thank you all for coming.”

He seemed tense, and I wondered just how much experience he had with making speeches. He didn’t seem like the sort of person to enjoy them, or to feel comfortable under the weight of that many eyes.

“This seems the appropriate moment to address what many of us have been reluctant to acknowledge publicly over the years—the legitimacy and sovereign rights of the Shadow Court, as ruled and represented by Faris Lansgrave.”

No lead up, no squirrelly political language—he just threw it out there.

“Please make a point of acknowledging him as our host, and of respecting the territory on which we stand. The laws of this court dictate that all races will be treated equally, and no individual residing within the boundaries of the city will be considered members of their hereditary court for the purposes of any form of enforcement.”

In other words, they stood on neutral ground, and Faris made the rules.

“Everyone in this room has sworn to uphold the peace of this Symposium.” Callum paused his speech long enough to make eye contact with most of the heavy hitters in the room. “However, I doubt very many of you believe it will actually remain peaceful. Just know that anyone who violates that peace will be dealt with swiftly and severely, and may or may not be returned to their court—in whatever pieces we are still able to find.”

Well then. Apparently, dragon politics were considerably more violent and lacking in subtlety than the human version.

At that point, he turned to address the earth elemental at his shoulder. “Faris, do you have anything to add?”

“Welcome to my city,” Faris rumbled, scanning the crowd with what was, for Faris, a fairly neutral expression. “I agreed to host you all because I believe this cause is vitally important. Also, I figured the lot of you likely weren’t capable of meeting anywhere else without arguing like a bunch of cranky toddlers.” His brows lowered ominously, and his voice turned to a rasping, subterranean growl. “Don’t make me regret it.”

I felt an absurd temptation to laugh as I watched the roomful of elite Idrian ambassadors listen to themselves be dismissed as squabbling children. There was some muttering and feet-shifting and a few cases of serious side-eye, along with a handful of wry chuckles. But no one said much of anything until Callum and Faris looked at one another, nodded cordially, and moved off in opposite directions.

Suddenly, the entire room seemed to let out its collective breath and begin to speak normally.

Except for me.

Because just before he turned away, Callum shot me a questioning glance over the heads of the wildkin delegation. As if somehow, in that crowded space full of important people, he’d made sure he knew where I was, and wanted to know whether I was okay.

Which meant I wasn’t breathing normally at all.

Every time I saw him, he seemed to find his way just a little further behind my walls. Earn just a little more of my reluctant trust. None of my objections seemed to be working anymore. No matter how many times I reminded myself of the dangers, my heart wasn’t listening.

But I had promised Kira I would do my best to keep him safe, so I somehow pulled my attention away from the back of his head to watch the rest of the room.

Was one of these people our saboteur? How would I know? And if that person were present, how desperate were they to stop this Symposium from taking place?

I watched as Callum greeted the fae delegation, giving no sign of the friendship I’d noted between him and Rath. He spoke with each of them while wearing the same casually welcoming mask, his body language offering no hint of his feelings.

The fae, on the other hand, seemed to regard him with wariness bordering on suspicion, and one thread of…outright antipathy. I couldn’t even have said what it was that warned me. I scanned their faces, pausing for a moment on one tall, glamoured male. He appeared pleasant enough. Even smiled at Callum as he sipped at a drink that looked like champagne but probably wasn’t. His shoulders were relaxed, his hand motions fluid and graceful. Those inscrutable fae eyes were almost warm and interested, and yet… I still felt something off. Something cold and vicious.

The deep, hidden currents of my magic stirred, coiling through my mind and memory. If it was the fae causing this reaction, I knew I’d never seen this particular face before. But not all fae chose to wear the same glamour each time they walked among humans. Perhaps I knew the one beneath the face? But Draven had promised they were all dead. There was no longer anything to fear.

Was he right? Or had they missed one?

Once Callum moved on, my suspicions tugged me away from the wall to cross the room, using a brisk, steady stride to give the impression of purpose. I had somewhere to be, and because I was dressed similarly to the servers carrying trays of beverages, no one really paid me much attention.

I wasn’t even sure what I was hoping to find. What I thought my magic might do. But I let my steps carry me straight past the fae in question. He was murmuring to one of the other members of his delegation, and as our sleeves almost brushed, pain knifed through me—a sudden stab of icy emotion that defied all description.

Fear? Anger? Anticipation? I couldn’t even tell, but it took every bit of my focus not to waver or show a reaction. To simply put one foot in front of the other and bite back the pained whimper that strained to escape from behind my clenched teeth.

What was happening?

“Are you all right?” A whisper from behind my left elbow whipped me around so swiftly that I nearly knocked Heather right off her feet. She was standing a little too close, regarding me out of round, perpetually frightened eyes.

“I’m fine.” I somehow managed not to whimper or groan as I said it. “Did you need me?”

She swallowed anxiously and glanced over her shoulder. Poor Heather. Just being around Callum made her skittish, so this room full of powerful and influential people was probably turning her into a nervous wreck.

“Angelica has a quick update for you about the plan for tomorrow,” she murmured. “Meet in the fifth floor conference room in a few minutes?”

I didn’t like the idea of leaving the reception just now, but if Angelica was involved, no doubt she’d cleared it with Callum.

“Will do,” I responded, fighting to unclench my teeth. I could feel sweat beading on my forehead. Somehow, I had to get further away from the fae who seemed to trigger all my instincts for danger.

Heather retreated back into the crowd, and I took another step. Then three, then five. The feeling eased, but it left me lightheaded. Almost stumbling. I was nearly to the wall, where I could turn and lean against a solid surface without anyone noticing.

But before I could reach that relative safety, my path was blocked… by a white pantsuit that crowded into my space and loomed threateningly on towering heels.

“I wonder,” Talia purred viciously from over my head, “whether anyone else knows that the dragon is breaking tradition by using his pet elemental to watch his back.”