Page 16 of Wings of Shadow
My eyes widen as I read—a performance of La Vestale, in honor of the Draken family’s long-standing patronage of the arts. But it’s the next line that makes the blood freeze in my veins: In Nikolaas’ absence, I’m expected to attend, representing our clan.
Another detail leaps out at me as I continue reading. The invitation proudly announces:
We are honored to feature the world-renowned soprano, Aria Leone, direct descendant of the legendary Letizia Leone, in the lead role.
My pulse quickens. Aria Leone’s voice is said to be otherworldly. Her presence adds an extra layer of prestige—and mystery—to the event.
The realization dawns on me, bringing both pride and trepidation. This isn’t just any social affair, but a stage where the intricate dance of supernatural politics plays out beneath a veneer of cultural appreciation. What alliances might be forged or broken in the gilded halls of the opera house? What secrets might be whispered behind ornate fans and crystal champagne flutes?
And, unbidden, a thought surfaces. Will Kaisner be there?
I close my eyes and exhale slowly, as if I could expel the distracting thoughts along with my breath. Despite my efforts, Kaisner’s enigmatic smile dances behind my eyelids, the phantom pressure of his hand in mine sending a shiver down my spine.
A soft rustle breaks through my reverie. My eyes snap open, heart leaping into my throat.
I’m not alone.
Someone reclines in the plush armchair across from my desk, one eyebrow arched in silent inquiry.
“Earth to Clarissa,” Samara says, amused. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost... or maybe something far more interesting?”
Heat rises to my cheeks. I stammer, rising fast. “Sam! I didn’t realize—sorry, I’ve just had a... strange morning.”
Samara’s eyes narrow slightly, her gaze sharp and assessing. I can almost see the gears turning in her head, piecing together my disheveled state, my lateness, my distraction. “Strange, huh?” she says, leaning forward. “Do tell.”
I hesitate. But this is Sam. My friend. My brother’s mate. The one person I might actually trust with this storm.
I sink into the chair beside her, letting out a long breath. Suddenly, I’m desperate to share this burden.
“There was a man,” I begin slowly. “At Deveraux Manor. I didn’t tell you before because... I didn’t think it would matter. But then I saw him again. This morning.”
Her interest sharpens instantly.
“There’s something about him, Sam,” I whisper. “Something that draws me in and terrifies me at the same time. It’s like... like he sees right through me. And I can’t see anything about him. My gift, it just... doesn’t work on him.”
Samara’s eyes widen at this. She knows how rare it is for my Sight to falter, even in its unripened stage. “Now you’ve got my full attention. Who is this mystery man?”
I inhale deeply, steeling myself. “Kaisner Drachenstein. And Sam... I think I’m way over my head.”
As soon as the name leaves my lips, the atmosphere in the room shifts. Samara’s face drains of color so quickly that for a moment, I fear she might faint.
“Kaisner Drachenstein?” she repeats, her voice low and hesitant. She leans forward, gripping the arms of her chair so tightly her knuckles turn white. “Clarissa, do you have any idea who that is?”
Her phone lights up on the desk between us, the screen flashing with multiple missed calls from Nik. Six in the last ten minutes.
Sam glances at it nervously. “I should take this,” she says, her tone tight. “It might be important.”
She answers quickly, stepping toward the window. “Nik? Yes, I’m safe... What?” Her voice drops to barely above a whisper, but I catch fragments: “...the grimoire... her study...”
I pretend to focus on the opera invitation, but my enhanced hearing picks up more than I should. Nik’s voice carries through the phone, urgent and commanding.
“Listen, I can’t discuss this now,” Sam says finally, casting a nervous glance my way. “We’ll talk tonight.”
She hangs up and returns to her chair, but something has shifted. The easy intimacy between us feels strained, charged with whatever secret just passed between her and my brother.
“Everything okay?” I ask carefully.
“Of course,” she says too quickly, then seems to catch herself. “You know how dragons are, possessive by nature—a tad controlling, too. Nik’s always been... intense. Especially lately.” She draws a breath, clearly trying to refocus. “But enough about that. Kaisner Drachenstein?” Her voice returns to its warning pitch. “Clarissa, do you realize what you’re tangled up in?”
