At first, I am taken aback since she remembered my real name, and it is the first time I have heard someone else speak it since I was a young child. For a split second, I wonder if the royal palace is a cover-up for some deadly society of upper-class Celestials, then quickly realize the reason why Lucia is even attending this ball—and with me, for that matter. So, without thinking, I start talking with a soft voice unused to speech.
"Don't be scared, I don't know you that well, but you seem strong. So show him. Walk in there with your shoulders back and chin high,"
I pause, thinking about what she needs to hear, still not understanding how someone could entrust her feelings and entire soul to a stranger... but I continue.
"Because you deserve so much more than him. I don't know how you ended and I don't want to tell you what to do since he was not my lover, he was yours, but you'll get through this and move on."
I pause for another moment, noticing her shocked face at my sudden speech. I feel my cheeks heat and look down at my hands fidgeting in my lap. I feel emotional, yet again, for the life I never had.
"You'll move on. Life does, and it will always sweep you along with it."
My vision blurs as I realize that I am lying. I am lying to Lucia and I am lying to myself. I have never moved on from what happened to my parents. I have let myself wallow in sadness, refusing to leave yet refusing to act. And all it took was a stupid dream to drag me out of my years-long trance...
Still, Lucia seems to believe my advice, nodding and swallowing with renewed confidence. I tear my eyes away and peer out the open window, framed with lacy pink curtains, and finally get a full glimpse of the sea. We now pass through the open, rolling fields colored an artificial green that lead to the royal grounds at the top of a gradual hill. The ocean–laced air surrounds me and matches my view: the calm waves in the distance, seeming so close yet far below the land that gradually rises beneath us.
I turn my gaze to the royal complex ahead, so far away yet I can still glimpse the ivory gates stretching for miles, guarding the royals. The path the carriage is on is the only one that leads to the complex, and to my surprise, it is sandy and worn, which is not the typical royal entrance I had been expecting. Several carriages follow us, trailing behind our brisk march. Although the sun is low in the sky, dancing off the waves and mixing colors like paint above me, its brightness still shocks my vision of darkness.
I find myself drifting away in my head, thinking about the lives of the royals here, how easy it would be to settle down, forget the past, and never look back at my life with regret. In what seems like a few minutes but what must have been more, Lucia taps my shoulder and whispers with quiet anticipation,
"We're here."
I blink, observing my surroundings once again. While before the carriage was surrounded by rolling hills and the peaceful, distant ocean, we now halt at one of the many entrances through the gates which guard the royal grounds. Two guards stand at the gates, and after a quick verification with the conductor of our carriage, the gates swing open and we pass the wall of high hedges that line the bars from the inside. I finally get a full glimpse of what is held beyond the gates and my breath is taken away. While before, I could only see the tops of a few buildings on this side, the full majesty of the architecture secures me in its magical grip.
The sprawl of buildings awaits me, all stemming from the huge center manor, its pale pillars reaching to the periwinkle sky and the smaller residences and halls spreading out across the acres. The light from inside the structures bleeds into the sky, and I can almost feel the cool spray from the elaborate fountain ahead of the manor, the sunlight glinting in the crystalline water. Our elevation is higher now; I can still glimpse the ocean spreading away from me, but now it appears so much lower than we are. These are the famed cliffs; if I travel far enough I will be able to see the beaches far below on the north and east sides. On the west side of the cliffs, the ocean is closer, with its waves crashing against and slowly cutting into the unyielding stone with their dull blades.
We slow to a stop in the round, paved circle surrounding the fountain, and its sheer size amazes me. I follow Lucia's lead and carefully step to the ground, trying to slow my racing heart and keep my knuckles from paling as I hold my clutch. She appears to take my advice, transforming completely from the meek, scared girl I was just with into a confident woman. She walks with a nonchalant air, flipping her loosely curled hair over her shoulder and strolling with utmost confidence in her impossibly high heels that I fail to understand, and I can picture the half–smirk gracing her beautiful face. I hurry along behind her, nothing more than a shadow, and watch the main palace rise above me.
More guests are arriving now, filing into the huge double doors engraved with gold and white details. As we approach the entrance, Lucia looks back at me with a gentle, encouraging smile, and extends her arm. I link elbows with her, hoping my worry does not show too much on my face.
More guards greet us at the doors, ushering us into the vast entrance hall. I try not to gape at the tall arched ceilings lined with golden accents as we walk along the polished marble floor. The guests crowd the hallway, dressed in the same style of clothes as Lucia and I are wearing. At the end of the hall awaits another set of double doors, propped open to reveal a vast banquet hall, large enough for a wedding and with an atrium-like ceiling, its glass panels curving to meet at a point at the top.
The dregs of sunlight filter in, a soft glow on the pristine floors. We filter in and Lucia pulls me along to a round table tucked off to the side. Now, I see the full extent of the room: a large center with areas off to both sides, including a generous array of royally dressed tables, with their pale rose tablecloths and assorted flowers strewn across the center.
Lucia puts down her handbag and I follow suit, trailing after her once again as she greets her friends with the same perky excitement I saw today. Minutes later, everyone has found their seat again, and the room quiets as more people walk in. No, not people—royals. Dressed in various shades of gold and white, matching the home in which they reside, all I can hear is the sound of their footsteps as their presence hushes the guests.
About twenty royals walk in, taking their seats at the reserved tables in the back of each section. A man walks to the very back of the room, across from the entrance, and steps up the three stairs that lead to a small, raised platform strewn with dainty flower petals. His polished shoes crush the petals wherever he steps, and when he starts speaking, the picture of authority, I know who he is. He's the King, the former Duke, and ruler of these lands, titles jumbled and thrown around ever since the war. I think these people are moving toward a different way of ranking—less rooted in tradition and bloodlines and more in merit.
He speaks, his voice commanding authority even from across the room.
"I'm sure we all know why we are here."
Yes, I do know why I am here, I need to find the people who murdered my family.
"And I would like to congratulate my daughter, Adela..."
And he winks at a beautiful girl—presumably his daughter—sitting straight in her seat with a broad smile on her face, cheeks tinted rose. Her light brown hair doesn't quite reach her shoulders, and she reaches to push a strand behind her ear as she laughs silently, her joy clear on her face.
"...on her marriage to one of the finest warriors in these lands, Malik."
Here he gestures to a dashing young man with short red-brown hair, his stocky build visible in his fitted suit. He reaches a muscular arm around his wife's shoulders and she reaches up to hold his hand, his fingers ringed with gold bands that shine in the lamplights lining the ballroom.
It seems like the King's attention is on me, his dark eyes darting around the room, and I could swear I saw his eyebrow raise ever so slightly, but he looks away too fast.
The moment passes quickly, and the soft music of the violin begins to dance through the room. With that, Malik is the first to stand, offering his hand to his wife and whisking her to the center of the room, waltzing to the light, summer–like notes. Her golden dress swishes against the floor as their feet seem to barely touch the floor and the lovers create a symphony of their own. The music builds with the dance and he sweeps her into his arms, twirling her in the air before she touches the ground again, her eyes never breaking his gaze. Like birds taking flight, their movements are laced with power and grace and become slower as the music draws to a close with a final, sorrowful note.
Their dance ends with the royals standing, inches from each other, fingers interlocked, the picture of eternal romance. A romance that will be, in fact, eternal, gifted with the grace of Eternity thanks to a gift bestowed upon these people by my own ancestors. A gift rooted in guilt, motivated by peace, yet rushed, a deal that doomed the Night Angels for generations to come: an Eternity ripped away from us, including me, and poured into undeserving royals like these.
The Night Angels were winning the war. They killed the Celestial queen and decided that there would be no more bloodshed. And so, they created the Split to ensure harmony and gifted the Celestials their Eternity. The most valuable gift of all. Time. Life.
The war was over a boy. He was half Celestial and half Night Angel. Just like me. He was powerful and strong, and he was the one who finally called for peace. At the expense of his life, the Night Angels' Eternity was ripped away. And our powers were drained in that war and in creating the Split, never to fully return. Some say his power was contained in an object, capable of destroying civilizations and splitting continents.
I am not sure what I believe.
I blink and the thoughts pass like clouds on a summer night, and more guests rise, offer a hand to a partner or friend, and follow the newlywed's lead.
Lucia springs out of her seat, a glimmer in her crystalline eyes as she beckons me to follow her across the floor. To my surprise, she greets Adela like an old friend, throwing her arms around the young woman's neck and introducing us. Adela's voice is soft and matches her gentle beauty. I leave the women to their chatter on the outskirts of the dancing and head over to the food on the far left side of the room. Weaving through the tables, I find myself yet again yearning for a life like this. I reach a table near the far end full of small fruits, decadent cheeses, and golden loaves of bread. I place a few grapes onto a small porcelain plate, swirling with metallic gold, and I hear his voice before I notice him out of the corner of my eye.
"And who might you be, 'friend of the she-devil herself'?"
I turn, facing the man fully, partly to ensure that he is, in fact, speaking to me.
His baby blue eyes sparkle with mischief as he observes me fully, sweeping his gaze from my face to my exposed skin, dragging over my legs, then meeting at my eyes again, a half–smirk twitching at his sensual lips. His sun-bleached hair is pale white, even in the dim light, and it falls long onto his shoulders, wisps from the front braided and tied behind his head. His hair is messy, unkempt, like he swam in the ocean, then dressed for a ball, not bothering to get ready. I don't know who he is, but he seems to think I have associated myself with some female devil...
I know he is a royal by his golden embossed, champagne–toned suit, yet nothing more. I can't let this overwhelm me.
The only sign of confusion I show is a slight furrowing of my brow, and yet seconds pass of my silence and his patience waiting for my answer.
"I don't know what you mean—"
"Come on." His mouth tightens in amusement. "Luce? Kinda pretty, girlish? You were with her, no?"
Oh. 'Luce.' He's talking about Lucia, which means that it is entirely possible that this is...
"You're the young Duke, then."
I blurt it out without thinking. I really need to master this whole speaking thing.
I bow before him, daring to look up at him.
He only seems to become more amused, letting out a low laugh in his deep, sensual voice. I straighten.
"And you're new here, then."
I mimic what I'd seen Lucia do: smile, look down, will the heat into my cheeks as I quickly glance back up at him.
"I'm Acilya," I pause, continuing, "of Ehren."
I am not quite sure how introductions go, so I am as polite as I can be. Especially around this royal.
I've told one person my name, how is an entire kingdom any different?
"A beautiful name... for a beautiful Celestial,"
With this he leans back and picks a grape right off the vine, crossing his feet as he turns his head back to me, grinning. This time I can feel my face actually heat, and I admit that I do not know his name, even though Lucia already informed me of his identity.
"Call me Adrian, love. Would you like something to drink? Our selections here are exquisite."
"I believe it, but I'll pass. Thanks anyway."
I have never understood why anyone would voluntarily give up their control—over anything, but in this case, their actions, behaviors, speech, the list goes on and on. But most people are quite... pliable when they have had several drinks, which is why I target houses late on weekend nights when the residents are too far gone to notice me—and they never put up too much of a fight. In this case, Adrian may spill some valuable information about my family if I choose my words—and my actions—carefully.
I take the three steps it takes to close the distance between us, moving slowly and making sure to accentuate my movements as I step toward him. He is only a few inches taller than I am, and from this close, I can see the stitching on his jacket. He turns to face me fully, and I reach a hand up to brush off an imaginary speck of dirt on his shoulder, and he catches my hand as it brushes against the velvet–smooth fabric.
He runs his thumb over the top of my hand and brings it to his lips, locking eyes with me. His grip is firm yet sensual, and no matter how hard I try to resist it, I cannot stop the butterflies that bloom in my stomach.
"May I have this dance?"
Now it is my turn to smirk, leading him onto the dance floor and ignoring the nerves that my pounding heart exposes. I've never danced with anyone before; I've only observed from a distance, never daring to join the foreign people. But I've observed enough that I know what I'm doing.
I match the upbeat pace of the building music with my steps, leading him with my movements. I twist and spin, letting him lift me high into the air like Adela, and feel as though I am soaring like an escaped bird. When I reach the ground, my steps feel lighter and freer, and I interlock my fingers with his as we begin a complicated series of steps, echoing the loud, fast music. We dance and dance, never tiring as the music continues with us. He spins me a final time, catching me abruptly as the music halts at a high note.
The last sounds whisper across the room, nothing more than a distant echo, and we both breathe heavily, our breaths intermingling. I notice that our chests touch and I slowly push away, giving him a small smile and walking back to my table.
I glance behind me as I sit and see him walking off the dance floor, but my thoughts are interrupted by Lucia.
"Do you have any idea who you just danced with?"
Her mouth forms a firm line. It looks as though she is struggling to keep a firm hold on her temper as her face reddens. I quickly decide that it is better for both of us if I lie.
"What do you mean? He's this random sweet guy I just met."
She lifts her head abruptly from staring down at her hands.
"Sweet? He's the Duke! Duke Olivier of Romalux."
She says his name with nothing but contempt in her words and swiftly continues, her voice rising but even I strain to hear her words thanks to the music and talking throughout the room.
"That man is anything but sweet. Stay away from him."
With that, she walks away, huffing and striding over to the food tables where I had been standing before the forbidden dance. Well, it shouldn't be forbidden, Lucia cannot control what I do or say, how I act. She's the closest thing I have to a friend, and so I should respect her. But Adrian is the closest thing I have to a source for information. Either way, I still have time.
The night is long from over.