Crescent (Old Version)

+ Part 16 +

"Lady Brenna."

Moira's voice told me it was finally starting. I'd heard the music, the foreign chatter, long ago but seeing her now in her own simple black gown with pearls adorning her hair told me it was really here. The party, the people, whatever festivities Moira had had planned; Ceth's name day, marking officially a month since I'd been here.

As she looked me over, seemingly pleased by the look of the sterling dress, I found myself wanting to ask about Nic, about his father, about her- and the girl in the meeting room, but I knew now wasn't the time.

She was here to escort me down. That would be the end of it.

We descended the servants stairs, both our heels echoing off the halls as we strolled down the candle-lit corridors toward the party. My heart raced when I heard the hum of voices first.

Jazz music swallowed up the rest of the empty space as we walked from directly beneath the grand staircase into the heart of the party.

Gowns twinkled in the warm candle light. I had been right before when I said the main table could sit a hundred people. It had food enough for all that and more. In the midst of couples twirling away on the dance floor, people filled hand-painted china plates with the finger-foods I'd smelled baking all day.

The crowd mingling around the dance floor was composed of more werewolves than I'd ever seen in my life. I could scent their power, feel their unnatural strength in every sweep of their arms as they danced. Maybe if I had not grown up among humans, I wouldn't have noticed the inhuman stillness with which everyone moved. I'd never noticed just how unearthly, how foreign the blood in my very veins ran until I was standing in a room surrounded by predators.

My throat felt tight. I kept my head low as I examined the crowd. Most of the servants wore black, kept their gazes low, though the soldiers posted at the entries and exits wore their own distinct charcoal uniform. The purebloods, I realized, were the most finely dressed of them all. The women wore gowns of mulberry silk and the men dressed in finely decorated tunics, each hand-stitched with the deep flaming red I recognized from Ceth's sigil.

My sigil.

The servants looked so lifeless now, in comparison. Similar to how most humans looked in comparison to wolves. Something about it just felt so- wrong.

The servants were the half-bloods, the lessers. The purebloods were the elites.

Moira made to slink away into the crowd, but before she could, I desperately gripped her hand and hoped she wouldn't leave me with all these people- among all the unknown faces that seemed to gobble the sight of me up. As if they knew who I was- why I was here. Liar.

"Please," I whispered to Moira as a woman with stark white hair pinned to her head in a crown smiled wickedly as she passed. I didn't smile back.

Moira stiffened at the sight but shook her head and bowed her chin. I was grateful that she stayed by my side as I went away from the elegance of it all to a distant corner.

It amazed me. Not just the differences between the people here or the lavish expense put into every bit of décor... but how the hell did Ceth have so many damn friends?

"Who are all these people?"

Moira refrained from running a hand down the hair that fell over her shoulder. "People from nearby estates, mainly," she whispered as if someone might hear us in our little corner by the curtains streaming with lights. "Your court," she said curtly, and I followed her gaze up the stairs which were bedecked in a velvet as dark as night. Nic stood a the top of them, smiling down at the crowd as he stook a swig from a glass in his hand. Even from far below, I knew his green eyes were gleaming much like his father's did when he finally got what he wanted.