The Night of the Ball
Elia is going to have a lot to explain to Lee.
But first, she has to figure out what in high hell is going on.
Her father had tracked her down the second she entered the building. He was acting even weirder than normal, looking at her with an uncomfortable amount of pride and going on about all of the important people she would need to be introduced to. It makes her want to gag.
Her father thinks she is something that she most definitely is not.
"Don't go too far," her father had finished, leading her forcefully to the main dining hall, "I'll come get you when it's time."
Maybe he would try to match her up with one of the upper alphas, watching closely to see if they were mates. He is the type to go for a political alliance.
Elia had nodded and smiled and tried to make him go away with telekinesis. By the time he finally left her alone, she was even more ready to strangle him than normal.
Elia glances around. Lee's already be alone for half an hour longer than she planned. She hopes she didn't go looking for her; who knows what kind of catastrophe would blow up if her father found her.
She feels her jaw tighten. Maybe tonight will be the night she accidentally shreds Beta Collin's face to pieces. Pompous ass.
Elia begins wending her way through the crowd, trying not to look like she's in a hell of a rush. She even picks up a flute of champagne from one of the waiters, gliding through the rooms, and only when she's sure no one will notice that she pick up the pace.
It only takes ten minutes to find where her and Lee were supposed to meet up. But when she opens one of the doors, looking into the dark entryway, she's disappointed. It's empty.
She's gone.
Elia sighs. Okay. Maybe this will turn out fine. Maybe this will not lead to another scar on her best friend's body. Elia swears under her breath, cursing herself for her stupidity. She turns in a circle, hoping to pick up on at least Lee's scent.
It's when she turns to the left that she sees her.
She's wearing a waiter's outfit. Her thick black hair is curled back into an elaborate hairstyle, framing her rosy face. Elia can see the warm, melting brown of her slanted eyes, the scattering of freckles across her nose, the way her lips part in surprise.
She's - beautiful.
And she's looking at Elia the same way Elia is looking at her.
The champagne flute slips from Elia's fingertips and splinters into a million tiny fragments -
-
I reread the name ten times before I register it.
Alice Kennedy.
"The servant that died a few weeks ago?" Orion asks.
I blink at the paper. The name begins to swirl.
And the pieces start to fragment together.
"I need to talk to Joanne." My voice doesn't sound like mine. It's too surprised. Too horrified.
Less than ten minutes later, Joanne walks in to my office.
She drops into a perfect curtsy. "Highnesses," she says, and she doesn't sound nervous, but her knee shakes as she stands back.
She keeps grabbing and straightening her apron. The movement is small, but my eyes are drawn to the movement. She knows. She does.
"Thank you, Orion," I say, like we were in the middle of a conversation. I step towards Joanne. "We'll be okay." I nod to the guards. "Please step out."
I actually hear Orion's jaw snap together, but he doesn't say anything. He just looks at me, burning, like he isn't sure if he heard me right.
"Trust me," I whisper to him, even trying for a smile, though it feels weak. "We'll only be a second. We just need some privacy."
Orion and the guards leave. Joanne sits in one of the new chairs. Her eyes won't meet mine.
I sit across from her. I decide that straightforward is probably the best approach. I don't know if I could do anything less.
"Do you know," I begin, already knowing the answer, "something about Alice's death?"
A moment passes in silence.
Then, Joanne looks up at me.
"I was there," she confesses, tears shining in her eyes, "when she died. Alice an' I came here together, you know, from Atlanta, a few months ago. We were both so excited to work at the Palace and see all the upper elite. Alice was - she was able to serve during the big Ball that the Prince threw, but I didn't volunteer quickly enough, so I wasn't there. She. She acted so weird the next day. She seemed afraid to tell me somethin', and you know, Alice's never been very good at hidin' secrets. But she kept it secret for months."
Joanne folds her arms over her chest, seeming to fight within herself.
"Joanne," I whisper, and I'm surprised to find that tears are burning in the back of my eyes, too. She looks at me. I see my own reflection in her blurred eyes.
"I didn't - " she starts, defensive, "I didn't know about any of it until the day - the day she died. She told me everythin'."
Joanne takes a shaky breath.
"At the ball, she met Cordelia Dixon, the upper alpha's daughter. And she - she -"
"She was Elia's mate," I finish for her.
Joanna blinks twice, hard.
"Yeah. They kept it secret, but Alice didn't have time to tell me why before. Before she. But she told me that they were mates, and they couldn't have Cordelia's parents know, and then Cordelia died. And Alice was gettin' sicker and sicker, and it's because her mate was dead, but I didn't know! I didn't know!"
Joanne looks at me, then, her gaze forceful.
"Her secret was supposed to die with her," she says firmly. Her chin trembles. "That's why I didn't say anythin'. She didn't want people knowin'."
She stares me down in a challenge.
I fall into my chair.
I can't wrap my mind around it. I'm numb all over. Elia was going through so much. A new mate. Her parents. The fear. Everything. And she was all alone.
Well, not all alone.
I inhale and Joanne tenses.
"Tell me about Alice," I breathe.
She freezes, then falls apart. Her tight grip on her apron dissolves. She slumps inward, cradling her arms like a crying child.
"Sh-she loved music. Played the piano. She went to this rock concert when we were in high school. She - she loved makeup, and she could do anythin' with her hair. Alice. Alice got her name from her grandma. She had a dog that she took in from a shelter."
I wipe quickly at my tears. I stare at the wall behind Joanne, trying to gain control.
"Elia was," I begin, soft and broken and crying, "the funniest person I've ever known. She was like sunshine in a bottle. She liked horror movies and painting."
Joanne laughs, ragged.
"Alice would'a liked that. She once told me she wanted to fall in love with an artist."
Goddess, it hurts, to imagine them in love. Together. Afraid.
Gone.
"This might be why Elia died," I explain quietly, "Why they both died."
It takes a moment before she can speak.
"You're going to find who did this?" she asks shakily.
"I am."
"Kill them," she says. She pauses. "Tell the prince. Tell - I think you should tell everyone. Everyone should know what happened."
-
Orion sits silently while I explain. We're finally, finally alone in Orion's wing. My voice is raw by the time I reach the end.
"Then she met Alice," I say. "She would know that the society wouldn't allow her to have a female mate. That's why it was so important for them to keep it secret. They were able to keep it secret for months, but her father must have found out and told the Order. Then - they killed her."
It makes sense.
But it does not make sense.
That she died for something so simple. So natural. So out of her control.
So unfair.
"Orion," I start, but I can't really keep going.
Without so much as a pause, Orion moves towards me and places his hands on my arms. I didn't realize how cold I am, but his touch sends a wave of warmth through my skin. "Goddess, Lee. I want to take you away from all this."
I wince. I was. Kind of hoping he wouldn't say that.
"Orion," I say reluctantly, "I should be used as bait. To find my father."
His jaw sets, his expression immediately morphing from comfort to stern resolve.
"Absolutely not."
I was expecting this. A part of me wants to just drop it - but finding Dad would keep my family safe. And he might be able to help me avenge Elia's death.
So I brace myself and say, "Why? We can control the circumstances. We'll take precautions. It's the fastest way to find him and end this."
Orion steps away. His stance screams professional distance. His gaze borders on accusatory.
"And what exactly," he replies coldly, "did you have in mind?"
"I - " I deflate. "I don't. Know. Stage some sort of big public event? Out in the main pack? I'll appear exposed, and maybe Dad or someone from the order will try to get me."
"Lee," Orion says, a note of desperation in his tone, "we don't - we don't even know, for sure, if he's after you. Or if he's with the Order right now."
"If you don't think he's trying to get to me, then why should it matter if I'm set as bait?"
This is so beyond strange. How am I even talking like this, with that bite in my voice?
"It's dangerous for no reason. There's - we don't have to go that extreme, now. It won't get us anything."
Then I realize: I'm annoyed. That's definitely not an emotion I correlate with Orion. Back down, my survival instinct screams at me. Back down. You don't want him to get angry.
Shut up, I tell it. I can be angry.
"That's ridiculous," I insist, setting my jaw.
Orion's eyes blaze. "You think I'm being ridiculous?"
There's an anger in his tone that I don't recognize. Or that I do recognize. It's so sharply familiar that I can taste it like acid on my tongue.
Orion steps further away. Clenches his hands into tight fists. He seems taller, his wide shoulders looming over me.
Sweat erupts on my brow.
A flash of my nightmare stings in my vision. I shake it away. Come on, I reason with myself. This is Orion. I'm not in danger.
"What? Baiting your father? Putting yourself in danger? You think that's a solution?!" he shouts.
I swallow painfully, trying to remember what we're arguing about. Because suddenly I'm thinking of my parents, screaming in the other room, and the crunching sound of Lucy's legs that followed right after.
"You know that it's the fastest way to end this!"
This is supposed to come out as loud and stalwart as Orion's rebuttal did, but it's stunted by the tightness in my voice. I clear my throat.
Orion stops, his expression still frozen in mid-anger. He stares at me with wide eyes, his mouth half-open with a response.
"Now you say something!" I shout, angrily scrubbing at the tears beginning in my eyes.
"It's - it's not sensible," he says, but it's lacking the fire from before.
"You're not listening to reason, Orion!" I try to say this with all the passion I feel, but my voice cracks pitifully on his name. I scrub at the moisture collecting at my eyes, trying to ignore every cell in my body telling me to run away. "You need to really think about what I'm saying."
I sniff, but my glare is still strong on my face. I wait for Orion to bite back, but he simply stares at me. Several panicked tears evade my hands, dripping hot and burning down my face. I breathe shakily.
"I'm - I'm not going to keep fighting with you, Lee," Orion says, the anger in his expression dissolving into concern. "Goddess, you can have this one - it's okay - "
"No!" I swat away his outstretched hand. "We're having an argument! This is normal! Do not just give in because - I can't - can't stop - c-crying! This is a normal thing!"
Orion leans forward, cupping my face gently in his hands. I see Dad, in the early days, before Lucy was born, grabbing my mother's arm too violently, upset at some conversation. I remember the way her skin purpled into a bruise.
"I'm sorry," Orion says, all soft regret.
"Remember why you're angry!" I admonish him, my voice clogged with tears.
"I am not crying because we're arguing!" I say as he brushes the tears away with his thumbs. "This is just me working through some very deep-seated issues! Now one of us has to stomp away or something!"
"We're not fighting, Lee," Orion says softly. "You win."
"I don't cry this much!" I promise him. It seems suddenly very important that he knows this. "I don't cry this much, this is not what I normally do!"
Orion wraps his arms around me.
I mumble something into his shoulder, but it's lost. He pulls me down so we're sitting on the edge of the couch together. I pull back for a moment.
"We had our first argument? It's over?"
"We did," Orion confirms, wiping away the last stray tear with the back of his index finger. "It is."
"Oh, that was so exhausting," I cry, leaning into his shoulder.
"You did a very good job," Orion tells me, rubbing a soothing pattern on my arm.
"Really?"
"You held your ground. I was intimidated."
I take a moment to temper myself, letting Orion's touch soothe me.
Finally, I push back, wiping at the wetness on my cheeks. Orion tucks my hair out of my face. My breaths are shaky, but slowly steadying.
"Okay, okay," I say, clearing my throat, "I'm okay. I think it will be better next time."
Orion pales. "Next time?"
My hands find his like a compass finds north. I anchor myself to them.
"Yes. This is what happens. We're going to disagree, Orion, at some point, and you don't get to just concede if I start crying. We have to work through it."
I think, any way. I don't know anything, really. Everything is still just blind guesses - what does a real mate relationship even look like?
Orion looks slightly desperate. He swallows.
"I told myself I would never scare you," he says.
I break eye contact. How can I explain this to him?
"It's not your fault," I say softly, "I just - I have some problems, Orion."
It's the understatement of the year. But it's all I can say.
"I won't shout, again," he promises in a whisper.
"And you won't give in if I cry?"
Orion shifts reluctantly.
"Please, Orion. I'm going to get past this. But I need your help."
"Okay," he agrees.
I allow a moment of quiet to pass between us. Then, soft as a feather, I say, "I still think it's the best thing to do."
Orion's shoulders fall ever so slightly.
"I would be safe," I assure him.
"I don't like it."
"I think it would work."
"Maybe he won't try to come after you, Lee." Orion's dark eyes bore into mine in a plea. "Maybe he's gone. We'll keep looking for him, but we don't need to ask for trouble."
After a moment of deliberation, I nod.
Secretly, I think that I'll always hold it as a backup, if we need. Still, it works. Orion's worry falls into relief.
Orion holds me like I'll disappear if he lets go.
He kisses me like I'm already gone.