“Wait, can he hear us from there?” I grunt, and Alaric huffs, smoke billowing from his nostrils.
“Likely.”
My lips twist.
Returning my gaze to the horizon, I sit tall. “I can't forgive him, not without knowing.”
“I won't let you, regardless,”Alaric insists, making the corner of my mouth tilt up a fraction before I drag my hand down my face.
“What do I do now?” I breathe, staring out into so much openness, I don't know where to begin.
“Now, you stand on your word.”
32
IVY
Apparently, it only takes seven days to prepare for impending doom.
It's not long enough in my opinion, but here I stand in my lemon-yellow ballgown, my hair in loose waves over my shoulder, hidden behind subtle makeup that my mother would be proud of.
My eyes narrow slightly as I gape at myself, inspecting every inch of my orbs, ensuring no orange hue appears after such scrutiny. When all that peers back at me is soft blues, I exhale, thankful that it hasn't returned since the morning after that fateful night.
My new mantra flickers through my mind, and I can't help but smile.
If I keep my magic at bay, the orange stays away.
I roll my eyes at myself before I glance at the time. It's almost time to go.
Pressing my lips together nervously, I grab my purse and tiptoe toward the door.
My grand plan revolves around avoiding Archer and the others, hoping to give them the slip as I make it over to the ball unscathed.
The reality is, I haven't spoken to any of them since that night, and to my surprise, they've given me the space I clearly need.
Would I like a repeat? I would love one, but without my magic consuming me, I'm also able to stand my ground on the answers I want, which means I don't get what I want.
It's probably for the best anyway.
A visit from Archer's father revealed many things, including my vulnerabilities, which heavily fixate on my hated mates.
It doesn't matter anyway.
The grounding did what I needed it to do. My magic is at peace, and I don't need them.
My stomach clenches at the thought and I try to shake it off. Instead, I focus on opening my door without the hinges giving me away, only to find the four of them waiting for me expectantly.
Dammit.
Baron stands to the left, dressed head to toe in black, his hair twisted up in a bun at the crown of his head, while his twin stands beside him, in a fawn-coloured suit, sans tie with the top button undone, and the corner of his mouth tilts up with a grin.
Teddy has opted for navy, a bow tie nestled perfectly at his collar, while his hair remains messy, and I can't deny that it suits him. Finally, my attention is drawn to Archer, his dark hair appearing even richer with the pale gray suit that frames him perfectly.
I hate it.
I hate every part of it.
I hate the way they can soften my defenses so easily.
