Page 125 of Shattered Stars
“You’re cold,” I say.
“Yep, but Winnie says we have to suffer for fashion.”
“It’ll be warm inside,” Winnie says.
There are goosebumps running down her arms. I flare out my fingers and encase her in a blanket of warm air.
She startles, then peers up at me. I nod stiffly.
“Have a good evening.” And then they’re shuffling forward to the front of the line.
Everyone is looking at her. She’s like a goddess in a sea of mortals. Everybody is captivated by her. They can’t drag their eyes from her. It’s like they finally see what I saw from the start – how damn special this woman is.
I watch from the corner of my eye as the security guard checks her ticket and she passes through the great doorway andinto the mansion, the Great Hall lying just beyond; music and laughter drifting our way.
I want to follow her inside. I don’t want her to leave my sight. But I can’t neglect my post. I can’t risk allowing someone dangerous to slip in.
The separation has never felt so intense and I loathe it, that tightness lodging itself back inside my chest almost immediately.
45
Rhi
We stepthrough into the Great Hall and it’s as if we’ve entered another land completely, somewhere even more magical and bewitching than the one we inhabit.
The sights and sounds of Los Magicos and the academy have often amazed me with their grandeur and beauty – something missing from the wastelands back home – but this … this is …
The usual tables, portraits and suits of armor have been removed, and the Hall transformed completely. The ceiling is a swirling mass of stars and planets, casting their light on the revelers below and six crystal chandeliers lit with more starlight float high in the air above their heads. The floor gleams like marble in shades of reds and blues and purples and heavy scarlet drapes hang across the walls. An orchestra fills the space with music and waiters dressed in white suits mingle in the crowd with trays full of canapes and glasses of champagne.
“This is crazy,” I whisper to Winnie.
She nudges me. “I told you it would be.”
“I know but I never expected anything so …”
“Beautiful.”
“Exuberant.”
“Well, the Moreau and Kennedy family both had children on that winning team. I suspect they reached into their pockets for this celebration.”
“And yet Spencer isn’t even here.”
“Really?” Trent says, scanning the crowd. “I thought he’d come back for this.”
“I doubt it,” Winnie says. “He’s serving in the forces now.”
“But he’s a Moreau. Captain of the team,” Trent insists.
Winnie shrugs her shoulders and I scan the crowd myself, not wanting to admit that the thought of seeing Spencer again has little sparks of apprehension bursting in my stomach. The same way I feel about bumping into Tristan. I’m hoping I might be able to somehow miraculously avoid him for the evening. I don’t want to have to explain why I’m wearing one of the dresses he sent me.
The hall is bustling with students and their guests, several faces I recognize from the academy and the match and several more faces I don’t recognize at all. Everybody is dressed in their finery, jewels, and diamonds twinkling under the lights. Spencer’s nowhere in sight and both relief and disappointment battle inside me.
“Shall we get a drink?” Winnie says,
“I’ll get them,” Trent says, disappearing into the throng of people.
I stare up at Winnie. “So what does one do at a ball?” I ask her.
