Aureate Fates

24

CRUEL TRUTHS STARE ME DOWN

     —DREW—

Years of Red parties had prepared him for this moment. The moment where he felt utterly displaced at an elite party. Except this time, his mother wasn't the one planning it—it was Delphinia. And this time, it wasn't just some party—it was his brother's wedding.

Right as he prepared to depart from his very spot, Thema materialized by his side. He jumped away, his heart rate increasing, but he found his footing again.

She seemed to be oblivious of her ability to startle, because she only drank her glass of—champagne? "Don't you think Captain Ferland is just the slightest bit strange?"

Drew sat down on a nearby chair and answered, "Yes. But don't say that too loud."

Pink petals brushed the floor of the ballroom while exuberant feet tapped and jumped to the beat of the music. A giant cake, about four feet tall, was perched near the table designated for gifts. It had not yet been cut into.

Drew turned over at Thema and observed the way her breath seemed to become uneasy. Could it have been the alcohol? She was only thirteen after all, but wise beyond her years and exposed to the savagery of men too soon. "Why do you ask?" He stood now, nearing her. His voice was small.

Thema shrugged and shot him a close-lipped smile, becoming relaxed. "No reason, Drew." She offered him a sip of her glass.

Drew shook his head.

Her green eyes softened. "It's not champagne. It's an elixir I made, to calm me."

Without a second thought, Drew snagged the drink from her hand and downed it. All. He wished Thema had shared some of it with him earlier, in the throne room.

Thema giggled and carefully took her empty glass back. "I guess I'll be making more."

The buzzing in his head instantly banked, and he felt fresh. Like morning grass.

His face warmed. "Sorry."

But Thema only gestured behind him with her now empty glass. He followed her gaze and found the stare of a young gentleman. Bronze skin and dark hair. He was watching Drew.

"Walk over there," Thema urged, gently. "No harm will come of it."

Drew turned to her with a helpless expression, eyes wide. "No," he whispered.

"Is he not handsome?"

He looked at the boy again, then turned away quickly. After Fenton, he wasn't sure he'd feel safe to entertain someone else. He felt as if he would have no control.

"Sure," Drew offered, meekly. Suddenly, he felt as if the elixir had lost a battle to his overbearing anxiousness. "But he looks...like trouble."

"Ah," Thema crooned. "More trouble than a certain High Warlock?"

Drew swallowed and looked away. He found Reese at the bar, who had abandoned his cloak and only wore a black, long sleeve tunic. Pressed pants, and brown knee-high boots.

He nursed a drink while speaking to a young lady, who leaned into him eagerly. His mouth was wickedly curved, and Drew could only wonder what sort of empty promises he told the girl.

Drew released a tiny huff, and he forced his gaze away. "You're a cruel one, Thema."

She had wanted him to see.

Thema only focused a sharp green look onto Reese. "I show you what is real, even if temporary. Truth and Peace."

It seemed as if she was the one who had adapted most seamlessly into Verskyian culture. She was even using their phrases.