“Sometimes I think,” I murmured, “that my parents regret it was me who received the gift, not him.”
“Don’t say that.” His voice was low, steady. “No one chooses such things. My father never had the chance to rejoice in mine. Not long after my power revealed itself, he fell asleep and never woke.”
“Does he suffer?” I asked softly.
“I don’t know.” His eyes dimmed. “He just sleeps. The healers watch over him, keeping his body alive, but… it’s been weeks now. I don’t know how long he can last.”
“There’s no cure?”
He shook his head. “None. No one even knows what it is.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, knowing how little the words could offer.
He met my eyes. “So am I. For your brother.”
I sighed. “It seems misfortune walks hand in hand with the gift.”
Silence fell heavy. For a moment, our griefs seemed to mirror one another.
Then I straightened, pushing the weight from my shoulders.
“Enough of what we cannot change,” I said. “Let us return to what we can. Namely—You.”
He pressed a hand to his chest in mock injury straight to the heart, but then, with a quiet grin, nodded. And so, we began again.
Chapter
11
There was a second ball coming soon. It would not be as grand as the previous one. This time smaller and more intimate. But for the young nobles it was yet another chance to mingle, to whisper, to weave alliances that often held more weight than the gatherings of the Families themselves.
My budget in White City was dwindling at an alarming pace, so I could not afford a new gown, even with the money Alaric gave me. I chose one of the dresses I had brought from Thalrock. It had once belonged to my mother, later altered for me: violet silk, slit sleeves, and twin cuts along the thighs. The corset, to my surprise, gave the illusion that I actually possessed a proper bust.
“You look lovely, my Lady.” Mirabel circled me with a proud smile. “So womanly. How long will you keep hiding in those uniforms?”
I sighed. The truth was, I preferred trousers, tailored coats, and long naval cloaks bearing the sigil of Family Veymaris. They were practical, comfortable, fit for the decks of ships and the salt winds of the sea. Gowns rarely allowed freedom of movement, and I liked to know I could fight or flee if the moment demanded it.
“Perhaps you’re right, Mirabel.” I smirked faintly, gazing at my reflection. “It’s good to remember, now and then, that one is still a woman.”
I pinned my hair higher than usual, leaving my neck and collarbones bare. I looked… different. Less a captain, more a lady.
The ball took place in a vaulted hall beneath a high ceiling. It was not the grandest of occasions, but the Families had gathered nonetheless, along with several lesser lords and their vassals.
I entered with Roderick, my advisor, at my side. Instantly, I felt the weight of glances. Whispers followed in our wake, and I had no doubt they were concerned about my recent altercation with Magnus Dorthal. Scandal had a long life in White City.
I suspected no one would ask me to dance. And indeed, though several men cast curious looks my way, none dared to approach. I was the exotic creature of the evening. Intriguing to behold, too dangerous to touch.
It did not bother me. If anything, I was relieved. I planned to exchange a few words about trade and make my escape early. My presence here was a formality, nothing more.
At the far end of the hall, I saw Aidenar. Dressed in an elegant gray uniform trimmed with palladium ornaments, he looked royal. Candlelight shimmered in his silver eyes. The way he moved—poised, assured, faintly arrogant—drew every gaze as he passed.
Velena fluttered around him like a honeybee around a bloom, laughing at every joke, her hand finding his arm at every chance. He thrived in the attention, smiling, speaking and charming.
I stared too long. He caught my gaze.
One brow arched, as though I had been caught in some forbidden act. I raised my wine cup in a quiet toast. He mirrored the gesture, drained his cup and then began to walk toward me.
What in the gods’ name was he doing? I had not summoned him.