Page 190 of Gates of Tartarus

“Gravity, Maela. Gravity.” Emlyn takes the glass from me, and I stick out my tongue. “Iamcapable of holding that.”

“Clearly,” he observes, not fazed in the least.

I roll my eyes at him, as the orchestra begins to play. “Well, at least Fallon can show me and Jorge where the VIP rooms are, and we can report back to you.” I look at Jorge. “Shall we go find her?”

“Asmi damacommands,” he replies, bowing and taking my arm.

The Calm Before the Storm

Saturday, 15 December – Kailani

Tension is making it hard to breathe, my throat thick with other people’s emotions, so when my phone rings and I see Lachy’s name light up the screen, I can’t resist answering, something in my core illuminating at the thought of him.

“I need to take this,” I say to Maela apologetically. “Catch up with you later?” She nods and heads purposefully towards a uniformed woman by Drapers’ Hall. We’re not meant to start our rounds quite yet, so I’m not breaking any protocol by answering my phone. I don’t have long, of course, but we’ve arrived about seven minutes before I’m due to touch base with my team. Every second is planned to precision tonight, but there are some things out of our control, like Fallon adjusting our arrival time last minute.

Even still, it gives me just a moment to hear Lach’s voice, and I answer eagerly. “Hey, LachyBear!” I say, voice soft. “I didn’t think I’d hear from you tonight.”

“Well, hey there, Suge,” he says, his deep bass traveling down the line and wrapping around my heart like a blanket. “I didn’t really expect that you’d answer. Just wanted to leave you a good-luck message.”

I smile, even though he can’t see me. “Thank you.” Glancing around, my face darkens unintentionally. “I think I’ll need all the luck I can get tonight. The air here…” I drift off, letting the words fall into silence, little stones dropped into a still pool, the ripples traveling down the line and across the ocean to my home.

I know Lachy can hear my worry, and, if I close my eyes, I can picture the frown on his face. “Do you feel ready?” he asks, concern heavy in his voice.

“Honestly?” I say. “No. This is all very thrown together, as best we could, but there aren’t any other options. We’re painted into a bit of a corner.”

“That’s my worry, Kai,” he replies. “How did you get painted in that corner? Was it an accident, or were you forced there unknowingly?”

I shrug, dragging the toe of my ridiculously expensive shoe across the cobblestones in front of me. “I don’t know, Lach. I just don’t know.”

There’s silence, then a forced cheerfulness enters his voice. “Well, at least let me see you, yeah?”

I laugh a little. Lachy’s obviously been spending too much time with Jonah, his words taking on J’s cadence. “Facetime?” I ask, then look around and think better of it. “I’ll just send you a photo in a couple of minutes. Shit. I have to go.” There’s no time to even say goodbye to him as I hit the end button, cutting off whatever he was planning on saying as Elizabeth approaches me from nowhere, a curious, amused look on her face.

“Problems?” she asks, a glint in her eyes belying her more casual tone.

“Oh. No. It was just... my landlord. Calling to check in.”

Tilting her head slightly, a move I’ve come to recognize as her hyper-focusing on a piece of information that catches her attention, she asks, “Your landlord?”

“Oh!” Mind racing, I realize that, while Elizabeth knows about my entire work life andsomeof my home life with Gemma, I haven’t ever really mentionedLachyto her. There would have been no cause, and suddenly I’m on guard, for some reason, this tiny piece of information seemingly vital to keep to myself. “Yeah. He’s doing some work on our cabin while we’re gone, and wanted to verify the stuff that needs fixing. Our shower has been leaking for weeks now. And we didn’t mention we’d be overseas. Just that we were going on vacation...”

Head still at an angle, she makes a small, thoughtful sound, and I try to distract her, waving at my outfit. “Well, boss, do I pass muster?” I ask jokingly. “Not going to embarrass you too badly, I hope?”

At that, she smiles in her tight, satisfied way and shakes her head. “I can honestly say you outdid my expectations, Kailani.”

The dress Maela finally picked out for me is inky black, tiny, dark constellations of crystals dotting the v-shaped waist. It’s deeply off the shoulders, more so than I’m comfortable with, several ribbons of fabric swooping low on either arm to meet a structured, soft sweetheart bodice. The sides are black, almost form-fitting lace, but the back and front are sheer curtains of dark fabric that waterfall to the floor, then swirl around me in the lightest breeze. My hair is straightened and smoothed, swept to the side and then pulled up and back into an elegant chignon, and my makeup is dark and alluring, lips a pool of red, like blood, bright under my half masque.

I had no say in anything else, not really, but Ididchoose my masque, and I love it. It’s a dark, laced metal, covering my whole forehead to my eyes, then cutting across and down my nose, encasing half my face in its design. It’s delicate, despite its midnight hue, and is studded with crystals at the joins of lace. It’s painfully elegant, and it’s only if you look closely that you can see the tiny, metal scorpions curled into the design, forming the curves of the lace in places. They’re hidden in the swirls of the masque, their pointed tails ending in tiny, gleaming stingers.

Elizabeth opens her mouth to say something when a harried-looking woman taps her on her shoulder and mumbles something under her breath, causing Elizabeth to frown and roll her eyes.

“Duty calls, I’m afraid. Find Fallon, won’t you, Kailani?” It’s a command, not a question. Clearly, I am on the clock. “She’ll show you what you need to know. I’ll see you again before dinner. Ah, Officer Shotridge. Right on time. I do hope you’ll both enjoy the evening. I think you’ll find the Gala is full of delightful surprises. Youmusttry the brie with fresh apricot and walnuts. Don’t let it pass you by.” She squeezes my arm softly and walks away as I turn to face Jonah, who is silent and unmoving.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, immediately on edge for threat or danger. Jonah exhales audibly, eyes wide, and tries to speak before stopping and then trying again.

“You, um. You.”

“I’m...wrong?” I ask, trying and failing not to be offended, and he shakes his head frantically.

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