Chapter 41

River dropped off a pouch of coin in my room the morning Sin left, insisting the Black Art left it for me to purchase a gown from the modiste's shop in town. I accepted it, easily reading the unwritten message inscribed on the leather bag. Sin wants to buyme a gown to show just how little he cares that I've agreed to attend the celebration with Cornelius. And judging from the number of silvers I found in the bag, he doesn't want me skimping on quality.

He shouldn't care that I bring a date. Not when the Black Art and I have nothing between us except a night of unbridled lust that was a natural consequence of our magic expulsion. I've reminded myself several times since our night in the study that we acted on impulse and nothing more. Singard Kilbreth and I do not belong together—nor will we ever. The only thing preventing him from riding city to city slaughtering every transcendent in his path is the agreement we made: I keep his secret undisclosed, and he doesn't brutally murder my family. Only a monster could fall in love with someone like that.

And speaking of monsters, I look downright malevolent.

A long red dress made from crushed velvet hugs every single one of my curves, the neckline plunging deep between my breasts, the vertex almost at my navel. Gloves of the matching color adorn my arms to the elbow, and I wear a pair of strappy golden heels. River helped style my hair into a thick crown braid and placed a crystal leaf comb along the side, and I admire how it catches the light when I turn my head in the mirror.

Knock, knock."I have a delivery for you, my Lady," a servant calls from the other side of the door. I let her in, and she hands me a long, rectangular box with a small envelope stuck to the top of it. As soon as she leaves, I rip open the envelope and pull out a piece of decorative stationary with a note penned in excellent script.

I crumple the paper, toss it aside, and open the slender box, my eyes threatening to pop from their sockets when I behold the treasure inside. A golden necklace, seated inside a protective velvet cutout, stares back at me, the fine shimmering metal as radiant as the summer sun. A teardrop pendant hangs from its center, a large garnet inlaid in a gold setting.

I swipe the paper from the floor, smooth it open, and reread Sin's note.

Where you lie.

I nearly ignite the parchment with sparks at my fingertips. There is no doubt in my mind of the double meaning in his words—clearly, a necklace of this value could only come from the kingdom's wealth. The Black Art wants me to wear the necklace like some sort of kingdom trophy, while also suggesting I am off limits to the lords in attendance tonight.

Off limits to Cornelius.

As if Sin has any ownership of me.

I slam the box shut, toss it onto the bed, and strut out of the room, holding my chin high to accentuate my very bare neck.

Cornelius is striking in a deep blue coat with matching trousers, his wavy hair freshly combed and plastered to his head with some kind of holding agent. He's waiting for me at the bottom of the stairwell and takes my gloved hand in his when I reach the bottom step.

"You look exquisite, Lady Wren."

With my hand clutched in his, I dip into a deep curtsy. "As do you, my Lord. Shall we go stir up some trouble?" I shoot him a playful wink and motion towards the long corridor that leads to the castle's ballroom.

I allow Cornelius to keep my hand as we make our entrance. The space is the definition of elegance, from the golden chandeliers with dripping crystal accents to the fine lace tablecloths draped over the long tables pushed against the walls. Bouquets of flowers picked fresh from the garden spring from decorative vases, their petals rivaling the elaborate gowns twirling around the room for vibrancy. Green garland with colorful berries poking through the leaves wrap around the tall white pillars, the smell of pine penetrating the room with its earthy aroma.

I slam down a wall between my energy and the swarming horde of collectives in the room, refusing to allow it to overwhelm me tonight. With my sister's fate unbeknownst to either of us, I need a distraction. And right now, Cornelius is looking mighty distracting.

Silver clinks against glass, and Dusaro gathers the attention of the room from the dais at the far end. The sight of Sin's father alone has my hand itching for the dagger I strapped to my thigh, so I place it on Cornelius's arm instead. The room erupts into a thunderous applause as Sin and Ileana enter from the far door and make their way to the dais.

Sin wears a black tailcoat tailored to perfection with a crisp white shirt beneath his jacket, and dark trousers that conform to his legs in all the right places. Ileana walks a few steps behind him dressed in a strappy silver gown that compliments her dark complexion, her black curly hair cascading down her back. Never is Ileana without beauty, but tonight, she is nothing shy of perfection.

I scan the room, noting how everyone's eyes fixate on Sin immediately, as if his presence alone demands their attention. He delivers a short welcome with rehearsed grace, the kingdom's responsibility in the city's destruction instantly forgiven with a single speech from their charming leader. As soon as he dismisses the crowd to enjoy their evenings, they are both surrounded by townsmen and their wives eager to share their appreciation for Legion's recent devastation.

Cornelius is well-mannered and refined, and introduces me to many of the old acquaintances he knew from his past. We sample some of the pastries with fruit filling and share a large slice of a mouthwatering tart, rich with the earthy flavors of mushrooms and caramelized onions. And as promised, he steers far away from the dance floor during group dances, which is why it surprises me when he asks me to join him for the partner dance.

I notice Sin hasn't participated in any of the group dances either. He's been swarmed with people talking his ear off on all sides, and I'm not sure if he's even noticed my presence here tonight at all. Which is a shame, as I really want him to see I have chosen not to wear his stupid, possessive necklace. I also notice the goblet of mead that hasn't left his hand all night, apparently his date for the evening.

Cornelius leads me to an open space on the floor as the musicians begin to play their stringed instruments. He places his hands on either side of my waist, remarking on the softness of my dress, and we step in time with the harmonized music.

"You're decent on your feet for someone who acts like the dance floor might attack them, my Lord."

"I said I didn't like dancing, not that I couldn't," Cornelius says, pulling me closer to him and flashing me a dangerous grin.

"Well, dancing looks rather good on you. Perhaps you should engage in the activity more often," I tease, giving his arms a slight squeeze.

Am I flirting with him?

"Apparently war looks good on you. My father mentioned you fought in the city. How does a woman of your stature find herself tangled up with the lot of Singard's men anyway?"

"Please, I have no stature," I dismiss. "They abducted my sister, and I've been trying to find her since."

"Trying to? As in, you have still been unsuccessful after our victory?"

I nod. "We have been unable to locate her, but I will find her. Somehow."

"It was certainly brave of you to be in the city. Fighting transcendents is no easy feat."

"I fought against Legion," I amend.

Cornelius raises an eyebrow at my correction. "Are you a sympathizer?" he asks, lines splitting his forehead.

"If you're asking if I believe it's wrong to fault someone for simply existing as they were born, then yes. We should be judged by the identities we create for ourselves, not for the ones assigned to us at birth, my Lord."

"And what identity have you created for yourself, Lady Wren?" Before I can answer, Cornelius spins me away, and I twirl directly into his sight.

The heat in Sin's eyes nearly melts my dress from my flesh. He stands next to a garland wrapped pillar, swirling a glass of amber mead in his hand. He drags his gaze down my attire, the sharpness in his stare threatening to shred my gown to ribbons. When he finishes perusing over my dress, he looks pointedly at my neck and takes a deep pull of his drink.

I spin back to Cornelius before Sin sees the smug grin bloom across my face. "I… I haven't decided yet," I say, almost forgetting what he had asked me. "But I fear if I don't find Cosmina—my sister—it may not be worth me creating an identity at all, Mr. Langston."

The music simmers to a close, and we each bow at the waist. When we both right ourselves, his eyes shift to somewhere behind me. "I think someone wants your attention," he says.

I spin on my heel and find Ileana staring at me expectedly. My knees dip in a deep curtsy before her, the action feeling strange in her presence. "My Lady," I greet.

Her eyes sweep my dress, and she folds her arms across her slender waist. "As the Black Art's Hand, it is my responsibility to check in with everyone after battle," she says disinterestedly, lifting a hand and admiring her nails. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I dismiss. "How are you recovering, my Lady? You look well."

"I'm not ignorant to what you did for me out there," she blurts out, ignoring my question. "You took a grave risk, and you saved my life in doing so. Thank you," she adds bitingly, the gratitude not quite touching her eyes.

Oh."It was my honor. Ileana… you will never know how sorry I am for that night. I acted out of fear, and while I know it doesn't do a damn thing to change what you went through, I want you to know I've pledged to never be that person again. The kind of person that was able to leave you there. I… I'm sorry. I'm just so sorry."

She adjusts her stance but keeps her arms folded tightly across herself. "There were a lot of them, even for someone with your… gifts. It was selfish of me to have expected that from you. And as His Grace has already chewed my ass out about it, I'm aware I need to work on controlling my… impulses," she says, half rolling her eyes as she remembers a private conversation between them.

I can't help but chuckle at her expression. "Men—what do they know?"

Her lips twitch, and she meets my eyes again. "He's not as bad as he may seem. Between us, I'd plant a knife in Dusaro's eye without an ounce of guilt, but Singard… he's alright."

I blink away my surprise. I may have only known Ileana for a short time, but long enough to know alright is a generous compliment for her.

"Though if I have to continue listening to his self-righteous grumblings every time Langston looks at your ass, I might actually find myself preferring his father's company," she says with a mock shudder.

I offer her half a smile and excuse myself to go find Cornelius again. I'm halfway across the room when a hand smoothly winds around the small of my back. I turn to apologize for disappearing on him and—

Goddess help me.

"Did you not like my gift, or do you simply enjoy refusing me?"

I crane my neck up to look at the Black Art, always surprised at how much he towers over me up close. "The necklace was beautiful. It was your complete and utter lack of respect for me that I did not wear it."

He furrows his brows. "What do you mean?"

"So our guests know where you lie,"I scoff, shaking my head as if I could shake off the sting of his words. "I am not some whore you call on when you're bored so that you may decorate me with jewelry and flaunt me as your toy."

Sin tilts his head to the side and his brows scrunch closer together. He remains quiet for a moment, and I do my best to not display the hurt on my face, but the downward curve of his mouth suggests I failed. "It was not my intention to make you feel anything less than valued. I admit I selfishly wished to make a statement to Langston and every other male in here that can't seem to take their eyes off you, but not at the expense of hurting you. Forgive me."

His apology feels sincere, and he steps next to me so his shoulder brushes mine as we face opposite directions. He tilts his head down and whispers for my ears alone, "No one would be looking at the necklace anyway. You are stunning, love."

I step away from him without a word and continue looking for Cornelius, who I find conversing with a small group. I tuck the Black Art's apology away to process later and link my arm through Cornelius's when the musicians announce it is time for the final dance of the evening. We join the other couples on the floor, and when we conclude the dance with a bow, Cornelius offers to escort me to my room.

"I'm going to wash up before turning in for the night, but thank you for a lovely evening, Mr. Langston."

"Then I shall bid you farewell, my Lady."

With a polite smile, I turn to leave but stop when he calls after me.

Wearing an expression more serious than I'd seen all night, he says, "Keep your ears open, Wren. You never know what threats are lurking just beneath your nose."

Puzzled by his words and vowing to attempt to make sense of them tomorrow when I am more clear-headed, I acknowledge his warning before turning and leaving the ballroom.