Page 107
Mira opened her mouth, but as she started to respond, the curtains swept open. She was vaguely aware of the soprano entering the stage. Her glittering gold gown caught the lights perfectly. Her voice filled the auditorium, but all Mira could think of was seeing the people from her former life, wondering what they would think of her. Would they judge her for being a Wielder? Pity her?
Mira clutched her left arm. Across from her, a door opened and Aidric walked into the previously empty private box. The music swelled as their eyes caught. He stilled.
In his perfectly pressed tux, he didn’t look like a person who had almost died three days ago. The collar of his white shirt seemed to be starched so severely, it appeared almost sharp. Like it could cut through his throat at any minute.
Ella leaned in again. “I’m going to introduce Oliver to my parents.” Then she took Oliver’s hand. “You will do great. They will love you.”
“I’m not the best in social engagements,” he whispered.
“Me neither,” Mira offered. “We can suffer together.”
Oliver smiled. “Glad to know I’ll have a fellow sufferer there.”
Mira hadn’t seen the Pearsons since she moved to Yharvan. The thought of having to see their faces now that she was a Wielder made her stomach twist into knots.
Ella bit the corner of her mouth. “Fair warning: Ben is going to be there.”
“That’s fine.” Because it should be fine for Mira to see her ex. There was a time when she had been convinced she’d marry Ben. He was her first love. During the war, they had bonded over their grief. But somewhere along the way, they had become two different people.
Ben had encouraged her to wear short sleeves and ignore her scar. He came from a long line of healers and was certain her pain was imaginary. A trauma response she needed to address psychologically.
The last thing she wanted was to see Ben’s judgmental stare when he found out she was a Wielder. He wouldn’t understand. He never had. But unfortunately for her, Ben wasn’t just her ex but also the son of the Pearsons’ close friends.
An actor in the costume of a demon entered the stage. She knew the next part. The demon was going to attack the fair maiden and steal her to the dark dimensions.
The basses’ deep voices vibrated through the room, and the orchestra’s music picked up speed as dark clouds in the form of chiffon formed over the maiden and slowly choked her. Her desperate cries echoed higher and higher.
Mira thought of all those disappointed faces. Ben’s disapproval. All these years and she still wasn’t any better. If anything, she was worse.
The orchestra and the voices of the opera singers collided into a crescendo, and Mira shot up from her seat.
“I just need some air,” she assured Ella as she left.
The door to the auditorium closed behind her, swallowing the music. In the foyer it was only a dull sound.
Her thumb massaged different spots on her scar to interrupt the constant pulsing. No amount of gavisus potion could make Ella’s party not a painful experience, but it didn’t matter. This was for Ella. It was going to be fine. For one evening she could pull herself together.
“Enough opera for one night?” Aidric asked as he sauntered toward her.
Mira released the tight grip on her scar. “I’m just getting some fresh air.”
With one hand he unbuttoned his tuxedo jacket and then slid his hand in his pocket. “Call me a snob, but I find this year’s production lazy and completely avoidant of risk-taking.”
“Didn’t pick you as the opera connoisseur.”
“My mother loved it. We used to go several times a year.”
She searched his features for signs of pain and exhaustion—signs so visibly portrayed on him last time she saw him, they had burned themselves into her memory. But now his eyes were no longer bloodshot. His hair perfectly combed. His tux impeccable.
“I haven’t heard from you since you almost died at Harrington’s, and now you want to talk to me about opera?”
The effortless smirk on his lips vanished.
“What happened to you that night?” she pressed further. “Obryn didn’t tell me what was wrong with you, but I know it wasn’t the two stupid qeviums.”
He straightened. “Magic poisoning.”
That’s what she had suspected. When a Wielder used too much Dark Magic, their powers could become poisoned and turn against them. Did Corvin activate the enthrallment? Force Aidric to do too many spells?
