Page 10 of Fallacies

“Alcohol that makes you really happy,” she supplies, and Kimber snorts.

I look at them both, my sweet, sweet friends. Who are definitely trying to drug me. I should be upset or annoyed, but between Callan looking at me like I’m porcelain and The Dame and her coven with all their expectations, I kind of love the way my friends treat me. Like, I’m just a girl in my twenties and deserve to party like one.

These are the kinds of experiences Ivy and I had talked about experiencing together. And if she were here, I’m sure she’d tell me to stop thinking and just…live. While I can.

So, I take a deep breath and clink my glass to theirs.

“To Lucina,” Gemma toasts. “The first pair of tits in the Ajax Coven.”

I nearly choke on the first sip of my drink, coughing through the explosion of candied berries on my tongue. Unlike most alcohol, it doesn’t burn as it moves down my throat; it tingles. The sensation spreads, crackling like the split of a frozen lake through my chest and lungs.

Gemma giggles, nodding to the glass in my hands. “Take another sip, Cin.”

Kimber tilts her drink back, taking a second drink, and I quickly do the same.

A burst of warmth splits through the splinters in my chest, heating my entire body, and then…it’s like I’m floating. Hovering just inches above the ground. The lights are more vibrant, the feel of clothes on my skin softer, and the drag of air through my lungs is almost intoxicating—like the oxygen tastes different.

I look up, noting Gemma’s wide eyes. The blue of her irises is more vivid, and Kimber’s green eyes are brighter than the glowing floor beneath us.

“Whoa,” Gemma breathes, leaning closer to my face, “Your eyes are gold, Lucina. Almost like⁠—”

“Come on!” Kimber grabs my hand and pulls me forward. “It’s about to start.” Her fingertips feel like flower petals as she drags me away from the table, Gemma following close behind.

We merge with the crowd of people migrating to the ceremony space. There’s Sol from every coven, but the majority of the guests are Lakelets—deeply tanned skin marked with white ink tattoos. I don’t see the Dame or her coven anywhere, and I’m thankful for it.

We find seats towards the back, the warmth in my body spreading all the way to my toes as I sit. Everyone files into their seats, and Selene appears just as the chatter of the crowd drops to a low murmur. She slips into the seat beside Kimber, the fabric of her dress a deep midnight blue, glittering silver thread dotting the skirts like stars.

“I fucking hate these things,” she mutters in greeting, readily accepting the glass Kimber holds out to her. “Hey, G. Cin,” Selene acknowledges us.

“Hey.” My voice comes out as a giggle, which makes Gemma laugh, and then Kimber.

“Gods,” Selene curses, realizing she has to play catch-up and tipping her drink all the way back.

My attention is pulled forward when a woman steps up to the platform. Her black hair is styled like Selene’s—tiny braids all around her head with thin gold charms woven throughout. Her dress is a gorgeous teal, the fabric slick like oil, and when she turns to address the crowd, I notice a white ink tattoo over her brow, twisted into the shape of a crown.

One glance at Gemma and she thankfully explains, “Sedona. Head of Lakelets.”

“Whoa,” I murmur, admiring her like a painting. “She’s beautiful.”

The awe in my voice makes Gemma snort, and I slap a hand over my mouth when the urge to laugh bubbles up my throat.

It’s impossible to hear what Sedona is saying over the rush of blood in my ears, but soon she gestures to someone at the back of the crowd, and a soft percussion of strings begins. It’s a gentle, melodic tune that swells to something beautiful before sinking to a quiet whine of a violin. The music moves through my body as magic does—rolling and cresting like the fall of a wave. Over and over again.

In this state, I don’t feel as afraid of what’s buried beneath my mother’s magic—the dark pit of smoke and shadows lurking below. Right now, I don’t fear it, but I’m sober enough to know everyone else would.

So, I treat it with the same repulsion, yanking myself back from falling into that deep, dark pool and focusing instead on the dimming of the lights around us and the rising sound of the sweet melody.

The crowd shifts at movement in the aisle, and I crane my neck to get a good look at the tall, lean man, making his way through the center and up to the stage. He looks maybe ten years older than us, but most shockingly…

I lean in towards Gemma, and she smirks like she already knows what I’m about to say. “He’s naked.”

She nods. “Mhm.”

I tilt my head as he steps up to the podium, turning to proudly face the audience. Completely nude. It isn’t funny, but the urge to laugh rises all the same. “Why?” I ask.

Gemma replies as if it’s obvious. “You can’t bind souls clothed.”

Clearly, I think as the crowd gets to their feet, and another man makes his way down the aisle. Also naked.