4. Saoirse

Saoirse

" M a'am," the irritated tone of the servant penetrated the haze clouding my mind as she forcefully tugged at the hem of my cloak. "You cannot enter the ballroom with this."

"Oh, sorry." Gooseflesh bubbled along my forearms as I handed over the garment, the servant disappearing into a room off the side with little more than an eye roll. My clothes reflected none of the finery of the opulent castle we stood in, betraying me as a commoner. To the servant, I was nothing more than her peer. She had no idea I'd once lived behind these walls.

Taking a deep breath, I smoothed down the front of the simple dress, every stitch and thread tickling beneath my fingertips. Memories of balls and gowns I'd never been allowed to attend flitted through my mind's eye, almost tangible against the backdrop of tonight's lavishness. I squared my shoulders, walking toward the grand ballroom doors, each step a practice in maintaining my composure.

Vibrant sounds of music and laughter washed over me, the joy of the celebration a stark contrast to the darkness brewing inside of me. It sat in my gut like rotted meat, brewing a venomous potion that could not be expelled. Nobles dressed in their finest fabrics, jewels glittering on their necks and wrists, gracefully moving about as if carried on the air itself. My breath caught in my throat at the flurry of activity, my feet glued to the floor beneath.

I navigated the perimeter of the room, clinging to the edges as I went. My eyes darted around, catching glimpses of some familiar faces. Ones of council members and other nobles, many of whom were frequent customers in the bakery. I recognized them more by which pastry they ordered instead of their names.

Bloodberry tart, chocolate croissant, butter toffee danish.

It was almost a game for me, matching the pastry to the person. You'd be surprised at how accurate it could be. Mortals, at their core, were entirely predictable. An observation I had only confirmed in my twenty-four years of being an observer.

I spotted the dais where my parents sat, the ocean current of my inner turmoil pressing against my hammering chest. I hadn't stopped to think of what their opinion might be of my return. Maybe I'd been more hoping that they just wouldn't notice, but that had been na?ve.

They'd spotted me before I'd spotted them.

My mother's gaze was crystalline ice, her lips flattened into a thin line of disapproval. Her frigidness was expected, and I'd often wondered over the years how one survived when they were born without a heart. Maybe it was the sheer vileness that kept her afloat.

She hadn't been a present mother, leaving me to my own devices. She was vapid, and cared more about her riches and luxuries than she did about her kingdom, or her children.

My father's rage, on the other hand, was scathing. It scorched over my skin like wildfire, my back twinging in direct response as my body remembered what my mind constantly tried to forget .

I didn't approach further, and they made no move toward me. I half expected them to command me to leave, but they didn't, instead turning their attention toward one side of the room. In sync with everyone else, pretending as if I didn't exist.

A loud horn blared with an anxious trill that made me want to crawl out of my skin, and the gathering parted at the unspoken command. Confusion touched me as I copied what they were doing, knowing if I didn't move, I'd be standing out more than I already was. Side looks from other dancers directly fueled the furious blush I knew must be staining my cheeks. I scanned the room, searching for Maeve, but I didn't see her.

A movement in the corner caught my attention. Was that?

It was. Vane was clinging to the shadows much better than I was, almost imperceptible with how still he stood, and yet I had no issue picking him out of the crowd. His eyes locked onto mine for the briefest of moments, a flicker I could have sworn I imagined passing between us. From ankle to throat, he was covered, wearing the same black turtleneck he had in the bakery just hours before.

A flash of crimson caught my attention, a dark streak of black that I knew too well, and a pit of dread erupted inside me. Hot pinpricks ripped up my spine, my dress suddenly too tight, too warm. I'd been so caught up in my own chaos I'd forgotten he would be here.

Jephyr stood at attention, guarding the grand entrance to the ballroom, his soulless eyes already on me. Nausea burst through me as his gaze made a sickening trail up and down my body, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as they returned to my face with a sneer.

Before I could react, the ceremony began, everything falling silent. Xan stepped to the center, natural light bathing her in its golden glow underneath the stained-glass sky. Thick and heady, the air buzzed with anticipation, the energy palpable. The moment everyone had been waiting for.

The princess would get her power .

I ignored the sharp stab of envy that speared my gut. Xanthi deserved this, no matter how unfair I thought the world.

My burden was mine alone.

Her nervous eyes met mine, face lighting up when she realized I had kept my promise to come. Her joy was payment enough, and I pushed all thoughts of Jephyr out of my head.

He couldn't get to me here, and once Xan got her powers, I'd be gone.

Next to her, an ornate pedestal stood, decorated with intricately carved runes and motifs of the goddess Daer. Though she had long since vanished, her legacy burned bright, woven into the fabric of all Lightlace traditions. For as long as the sun burned in the sky, Daer would light the way.

My feelings on the goddess were mixed, an opinion I would never be stupid enough to voice out loud. Our powers were said to have been bestowed by the goddess herself, who smiled upon the Lightlace, enabling us to carry on her legacy and thrive as one of the realm's strongest kingdoms. We were not only powerful, but strong in numbers.

And yet, she hadn't blessed me with anything. It was hard not to feel slighted when you were always the odd one out.

Xan stepped up to the pedestal, her head bowed in reverence. Our mother approached her to do the only real job she'd ever had. She was draped in robes of shimmering gold, the expensive material catching every glint of the light. A long staff occupied her slender hand, topped with a glass dome, a brilliant light radiating from inside. It was two-tone, a soft yellow, and an even more dazzling white. Her presence commanded the attention of everyone, easily overshadowing Xan beside her.

Our mother savored her moment in the spotlight, her long neck stretching tall as she looked around, making eye contact with everyone present. Finally, her mouth opened, and she began to chant in the forgotten language of the gods, her words reverberating throughout the hall, a shiver inching its way down my spine .

The chanting continued, repeating on a loop, as her staff began to glow. Raw power illuminated the room, the hairs on my arms standing to attention. The audience watched on in awe, faces dancing with the gilded shadows. The very light streaming in through the windows seemed to pulse in time with the queen's words, each syllable an ancient note in a celestial symphony that I'd never understand.

Xan closed her eyes, tilting her head back to embrace the warmth. The dome of Mother's staff grew brighter, moving to envelop her in a cocoon of luminescence. Her hair shimmered like spun gold, her skin glittering with an otherworldly beauty, as if the sun itself had descended from the heavens to bless her.

A suspicious trickle of wetness slid down my cheek, and I swiped it away, telling myself they were tears of happiness. Xan was having her moment, and it was everything I'd ever thought it would be and more.

But it hurt to see.

Reminders of my own Awakening, of how the room had remained dim and cold, silent as only myself and my mother stood. How she'd turn to me and said just one word before leaving.

Useless.

The queen raised her staff high, the light intensifying, forming a luminous column that connected the crystal to the open center of the ceiling. A soft hum filled the air, a noise that resonated deep in my chest, and in that moment only, I might have felt the presence of Daer.

"Xanthi Volari, daughter of Daer," our mother intoned, her voice ringing clear and powerful in the silent air, everyone enraptured by the ceremony. "Receive your birthright. Let your magic flow through you, now and forever. Blessed be the goddess," she chanted, and I nearly jumped when the room echoed her words. My mouth stayed tightly shut.

Blessed be the goddess .

My eyes strayed back to where Vane had been, but he was no longer there. I scanned the room, doing my best not to look like I was searching too hard, but he was already gone.

The light encompassing Xan flared brilliantly, nearly blinding in its intensity, and I shielded my eyes with a hand as I squinted against it. For a moment, it was as if time itself had stopped; the air vibrating with the energy that must have been sent straight from the goddess herself. Then, suddenly, the light dissipated, leaving the room just as it had been before without so much as a goodbye.

Xan opened her eyes, and I gasped as they flared brightly with the power of the sun. Her smile was wide as she lifted her hands, beams of golden light emanating from every inch of her exposed palm. Shocked inhales filled the room as she twirled her fingertips, the light dancing and weaving through the air like threads of destiny, before turning a misty, glittering white. The yellow was expected of a Lightlace witch, but the opaque shimmer marked her as a healer. In the last century, only a handful of witches had been given the honor.

Awe and reverence ripped through the room at her display of power. One touch to one of those beams would cause severe burns, like a hot poker to flesh, but she made it look dazzling, a positive in the world.

My knees locked as I fought the urge to bolt. A yearning warmed my chest. This was the moment I would never have, no matter how hard I tried. We were sisters, but we walked very different paths in life and it was even more apparent to me now.

She was just starting her life, but mine had already ended.

Xan lowered her hands, the light fading as she stood as tall as she could, a breathless laugh gracing the air with its presence. Our mother lowered her staff, the crystal's glow dimming into nothingness.

When the room erupted into deafening applause, I saw my father look proud for the first time. His normally sharp features were soft, the unmistakable emotion shining in his eyes as he looked at my sister. Even my mother wore a small smile, a feat for a woman who always looked like she'd just kissed a lemon.

Another thing I would never have.