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Elodie holds the door, then follows me into the hall. I’ve barely walked more than a few steps when she places a hand on my shoulder to stop me.
“What happened?” She motions toward my chest.
At first, I think maybe I dribbled my drink on my dress, but then I realize she’s reaching for my talisman.
“It’s dented. Right here.”
While I really don’t like the sight of her fingers grasping the charm Braxton gave me, I soon realize she’s right. There’s a place on the front where two of the gold bars appear to curve slightly inward when they didn’t before.
I guess it must’ve happened when I lost it, but I was so happy to have it back, I didn’t take the time to examine it.
Elodie peers hard at the jewels nestled inside. “Good thing you didn’t lose that star,” she says. “It could’ve so easily slipped through those bars without you even realizing until it was too late.” She tilts her head, and the way her gaze latches onto mine causes a prickle of chills to race up my spine.
“Reminds me of that quote from Ovid,” she says. “Beauty is a fragile gift.”
Her perfect rosebud lips curl up at the sides, and though there’re a number of ways I can translate her expression, it’s not a trail I’m willing to follow. Right now, I’d rather focus on Braxton—his return to Gray Wolf, to me—and the happy reunion to come.
Without a word, I remove the charm from her fingers, and make for the staircase.
When I see everyone already assembled downstairs, my mind hurtles back in time to the night I arrived.
I remember how I stood awkwardly beside Braxton, simultaneously angry and scared out of my mind.
I remember taking in the odd assortment of wingback chairs swinging from thick silver chains, and the strangers who occupied them, people who are no longer strangers today.
Oliver, Song, Jago, Finn—I tried my best to keep them all straight.
All of them are here now, except Song, who is notably missing.
When Elodie strode into the room with that tiara perched on her head, she was clearly the star of the show.
As she strides in beside me now, I realize her reign is far from over.
Back then, I didn’t know what any of it meant.
Why the chairs hung like swings.
Why Elodie was dressed like royalty.
Why everyone was so unsettled by me.
Why I was chosen to live here among them.
But now that I’m one of them, I promise myself that whoever this recruit turns out to be, I will be kinder and more helpful to them than any of these people ever were to me.
I don’t care if Blues are expected to keep to themselves—a little more guidance would’ve been nice. And as far as shoving a bag over someone’s head and dragging them off to the lighthouse—it’s time for that sadistic tradition to end.
Elodie claims the last vacant chair, leaving me to occupy the pink velvet divan. As I settle onto the cushion, I feel jumpy, twitchy, like there’s a swarm of bees building a hive inside my belly, but I chalk it up to excitement over my reunion with Braxton.
I turn to Oliver, who’s sitting in the chair beside mine, about to ask if he’s seen Song, when he leans toward me and says, “Good to see you made it back.”
I’m about to respond when I realize there’s more.
“And I see you brought a friend.”
His dark eyes flicker toward the staircase, where a tall, gorgeous boy dressed in a loose silk shirt, a pair of soft faded jeans, and velvet slippers makes his way down the steps.
When I catch sight of his golden curls, recently cut to fall just shy of his shoulders, leaving the front bits to casually tumble over his forehead, I realize the boy is Killian.
