A little too full, perhaps. From the ballroom entrance, an attendant announced yet another noble’s arrival, and Elyria spun too quickly toward the sound. Wine sloshed over the rim of her cup, dribbling downthe side. But before the crimson liquid could make its way onto Elyria’s dress, the droplets lifted into the air, swirling gently before landing back inside the goblet.
Elyria’s eyes darted to Kit, who was looking over her shoulder and had one single finger outstretched. Her blue eye winked at Elyria before she returned to her conversation.
Smoothing her hand over the soft golden layers of her dress, Elyria grinned at the subtle use of magic. None of the nearby humans had noticed, and there was something satisfying about the reminder that even amidst all this grandeur—and even with gaudy mana tokens hanging from the necks of every human in attendance—this easy mastery of the elements was still something of theirs. Something only they possessed. SomethingArcanian.
In her ballroom finery, the points of her ears tucked under an elegant partial-updo, Elyriaalmostblended in with the elaborately clad nobles who filled the room. Sure, there was the color of her hair, a petal-soft purple that stood out amongst the sea of blonde and brunette, but, as bidden by Kit and Dentarius alike, Elyria had her wings cloaked again. It made her want to laugh. She lived her life keeping them hidden out of habit, unwilling to expose the most vulnerable part of herself. Only now that it was less her choice and more acommand, sheer spite had her wanting nothing more than to free her wings, to keep them out, shimmering, proud. To make the humans stare.
They were staring anyway.
Tenebris Nox garnered the brunt of it. With dwarven traders coming and going throughout both realms as they pleased, Elyria supposed Thraigg’s diminutive stature was only of moderate interest to the humans. And whatever lingering gazes Elyria’s hair and general reputation might have drawn were nothing in comparison to the open gawking over the nocterrian’s dark, unsettling beauty.
A pair of tittering women in voluminous gowns sauntered by, making a show of snatching fresh goblets of fizzing wine from a nearby table. Their whispers buzzed in Elyria’s ears like gnats—she had never resented her heightened fae senses before coming to Kingshelm.
One of the women narrowed her eyes as Nox sketched a bow that Elyria knew was more than likely sardonic, but their inhuman gracestill made the movement fluid, beautiful.
“By the stars, who knew there was such a...range to them,” the woman whispered. “Half of them look almost normal.”
Her friend giggled into her cup. “But then there’s the other half.”
Elyria scowled. Her fingers twitched, the knot of shadows behind her ribs pulsing—almost pulling at her. Anxious. Unsettled.
“You’re fidgeting,” Nox murmured beside her.
Elyria took another careful sip of wine before turning to the nocterrian. They had opted for an upscale version of their typical attire—a sharp, tailored coat that drank in the light, paired with a high-collared shirt underneath. All black, of course—a perfect match to their sleek hair, coiffed into a neat bun that sat on the back of their head.
Elyria appreciated the way they did not cower from the attention of the room—and oh, how the room was paying attention. She supposed that the concept of “blending in” was rather difficult when they stood six inches taller than everyone else here...and that was without even accounting for the horns. She also appreciated how the humans seemed to maintain farther distance from her the closer she stood to the nocterrian, something that had kept her by Nox’s side almost the entire evening.
“This dress is a torture device,” Elyria muttered, reaching her free hand behind her to tug at the ribbon tied at the base of her bare back. “Kymber tied it too tight.”
“Humans do seem rather obsessed with maintaining maximum discomfort at all times, don’t they?” Nox said thoughtfully. “Your attendant must just be ensuring you have as...authentic an experience as possible. Quite admirable, really.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Elyria grumbled. “Do you mind?” She proffered her goblet, which Nox took with their typical expression of detached amusement, then reached behind her back with both hands. There was an itch under where the ribbons crossed that she justcouldn’t quite?—
“Ahhh,” she said, shoulders sagging with relief as she hooked a finger under the strap and scratched. To her left, Thraigg snorted a laugh into his own goblet, and Elyria had daggers in her eyes when she met the dwarf’s gaze.
Thraigg had cleaned up rather nicely too, wearing a brocade jacket embroidered with silver thread that matched the beads woven into his long brown beard. Even with the stiff collar that grazed the edge of his jaw, he still looked far more comfortable than Elyria. Perhaps a littletoocomfortable, if the flush in his cheeks was any indication. Stars above, it was honestly impressive the way the dwarf made getting drunk such a priority.
Elyria angled her narrowed eyes at Kit’s back for a moment, regretting having sworn up and down to Solaris and Lunara and Earth Mother Gaia alike that she’d be on her absolute best behavior tonight.
Thraigg was still laughing.
“Oh, shut up.” Elyria straightened and reclaimed her glass from Nox. “This is a sort of pain only a woman can possibly know, so I’ll have you keep your opinions to yourself, Thraigg Ironfist.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” chimed in a bright voice. Elyria turned to find a smiling Portentia Church, her hands fisted in the poofy skirt of the silver gown she wore. Her strawberry-blonde locks had been brushed back into an elegant chignon, a few curls left loose around her face, the delicate token necklace she’d worn when greeting the Arcanians swapped for a golden locket that rested against her clavicle. “Oh, you look simplydivine,Elyria.”
Elyria’s own smile was genuine when she returned the compliment. “You look beautiful too, Miss Church.”
Portentia rolled her amber eyes. “Please, it’s Tenny.”
“Of course. Apologies.” Elyria tipped her cup at the locket. “That’s very pretty.”
Tenny beamed. “Ah, thank you! It is rather lovely, isn’t it? A gift from my father.”
Elyria tilted her head. “Is it typical for humans to have multiple mana tokens?”
“It’s certainly notnottypical for the folks you’ll likely meet here tonight.” She turned her head from side to side, as if assessing the nobility wandering through the ballroom, before offering a conspiratorial look that had Elyria grinning despite herself. “But this one is just decorative, I’m afraid. Not a token.”
Elyria pursed her lips, sure that she felt the gentle thrum ofsomethingemanating from the locket. But perhaps it was just the lingering taste of the mana buzzing from the other tokens in the room. She wondered if the humans couldn’t sense it, or if they simply got used to it after a while.
