Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 136009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“Oh,” Anya said with wide eyes. “I didn’t know it could be destroyed.”
“I’d had a vision that it would be actually,” Kerrigan admitted. “So this doesn’t surprise me.”
“All right,” Anya said. “So the plan is…”
“You, Alura, and Sonali get us past the shields and inside. Fordham gets us into the vault. I jump us back out once we have the crown.”
“Hmm,” Anya said.
“If all goes well,” Kerrigan said.
“That’s a big if,” Anya said.
“Well, here’s our chance,” Alura said as the carriage rumbled up to the front of the mountain.
The carriage door opened, and Alura stepped down. She helped her mother down next, and then an attendant assisted Kerrigan out of the carriage. She took Anya’s arm with a vapid smile.
She followed them into Draco Mountain, the giant rock closing over her head as the shield was pulled down to let them through. She should have felt at home in her mountain, but it was the last thing on her mind.
She had made it inside. The first part of their plan had worked. Now the hard part started.
They navigated the halls of the mountain, following behind a line of attendees in similar dresses and masks, Fae males in suits and cravats and top hats. Chatter was both excited and terrified. She could hear it in the forced laughter and tittering conversation. No one was comfortable here.
Bastian had done this.
It made her even more confident that she would end it.
Their group reached the end of the hall. Alura handed the attendant their invitation. A moment later, they were announced to the ballroom: “Councilmember Mistress Alura Van Horn of House Venatrix, Anya Van Horn of House Venatrix, and her niece Saffi Van Horn of House Venatrix.”
All eyes turned to Alura. Fake smiles and false cheer at her entrance. But no one so much as glanced at Anya or young Saffi as they stepped into the room. They blended straight into the background of the enormous ball.
As a Dragon Blessed, Kerrigan had snuck into more than a handful of balls in this room. The long ballroom had parquet hardwood floors that gleamed. The interior mountain walls had been built over and were cream and filigreed gold. The ceiling was sky-high with three enormous chandeliers hanging in between frescoes of Fae history. The room glittered with Fae nobility in ball gowns and tuxedos with tails. So many Fae. All pureblooded Fae only. Which made sense of course, but worse…all the servants were half-Fae or humans. That sat poorly with her. She looked around the room, hoping to see Benton and Bayton and also hoping they wouldn’t have to endure this, but she didn’t see them. She hated not knowing any more. She’d even asked Alura, but she didn’t know the fate of the two half-Fae, and both worried that it would give up her position if she started to ask questions.
Kerrigan felt a tug on the mating bond and glanced across the room to find an unfamiliar male looking at her. Fordham. It was disconcerting to feel the mating bond for the face of a stranger. But her heart still skipped as the blond-haired stranger walked the length of the ballroom and held his hand out.
“May I have this dance?” he asked.
Kerrigan glanced to Anya. “If my aunt agrees.”
“Yes,” Anya said with a stifled laugh. “Enjoy yourself.”
Kerrigan took Fordham’s hand, and suddenly she was swept up into his arms. If she closed her eyes as he twirled her around the enormous room, she could feel her mate.
He spun her out and then back in. Her hand went to his chest, and he tittered into her ear. “Most unprofessional, Miss Van Horn,” he teased.
She moved her hand from his chest to his other hand. “My dear Mr. Kaysin, you are too forward.”
He dropped his voice as he said, “I promise this isn’t me being forward.”
She flushed. “Scandal.”
They passed Gerrond in the crowd. Clover had funneled him the last bit of information for their plan. He was already in place. His eyes lit up at the sight of her, and he gave them a quick nod of recognition. Then they swept past him through the dancing crowd.
“Gerrond’s in position,” Kerrigan told Fordham.
“Good.” Fordham’s eyes lifted to the front of the ballroom. “He’s here.”
And there he was—Bastian, wearing a red mask.
His appearance sparked a flurry of activity as everyone commented on his attire, the audacity to put on that mask as he discussed peace. An attendant announced him, and a smattering of applause followed.
Bastian tapped his throat twice to amplify his speech. “Thank you and welcome to the five hundred and thirty-first annual Society Ball!”
“Here we go,” Fordham whispered.
“Wait for Gerrond’s cue,” Kerrigan said.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The Armory
Clover
“Faint, take the right side,” Clover said to the tall human man who had taken over her training regimen. “Islay and Ruen, you’re to the left.”