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Chapter 37: The Masquerade Beneath the thorns
The masquerade ball at House Drakov was not just a gathering—it was a chessboard of alliances, blood debts, and poisoned intentions. Beneath the glittering chandeliers, velvet masks concealed smiles and secrets alike, and every laugh carried a tremor of warning.
Elira descended the staircase in a gown spun from midnight and stormlight—its satin bodice hugging her figure, the hem cascading like falling shadows. A silver mask veiled her eyes, but it did little to hide the fire kindled within them. She had come not just as a guest, but as a ghost of vengeance reborn.
Across the hall, Kairo Valtteri Seo stood in obsidian, his mask carved with delicate raven feathers. The cut of his suit was crisp, military. Regal. Dangerous. When his eyes met hers through the crowd, time briefly halted. The orchestra swelled, but their silent exchange spoke louder than any waltz.
Tonight, they were strangers—yet tethered by truths no mask could hide.
---
Elira moved through the crowd like a dancer trained in war. Every step was calculated. Every glance was a test. She ignored the nobles whispering about her resurrection in Valenhall's political theatre. Instead, she approached the central fountain, where Celeste Raines stood speaking with Lord Enver.
"Quite the costume," Celeste murmured as Elira joined her. "You look like a story someone's too afraid to finish."
"And you," Elira said, eyes glinting, "look like someone who's written the ending in blood."
Celeste's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Careful, darling. There are ears beneath these masks. And some wear daggers like accessories."
"I'm counting on it," Elira whispered.
Kairo appeared at her side seconds later, as if summoned by the tension in her voice. His eyes scanned Celeste and then the surroundings.
"Lord Malrick is here," he murmured lowly to Elira. "With half the Council. This is no party—it's a vote disguised in silk."
Elira stiffened.
"They want to see who survives the night," Kairo added.
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The ballroom shifted with the orchestra's next change—a darker melody, something slithering beneath beauty. It was time for the dance.
Kairo offered Elira his hand. "For formality," he said with a smirk that didn't hide the blade in his words.
Elira took it, stepping onto the dance floor with him. As they spun in calculated rhythm, their bodies close and hearts shielded, he leaned toward her ear.
"We need to find Lord Veylan before the night's end," Kairo said. "He holds the codex to the Auric Vaults. If we lose him—"
"I know," she whispered. "I've already planned for it."
Kairo raised an eyebrow. "Without me?"
"Call it insurance," she said. "In case you let sentiment get in the way again."
That silenced him. Just for a moment. The weight of what they'd lost—the betrayal, the war, the fire in the temple—hung between them like a veil no waltz could part.
But then, a scream shattered the music.
A noblewoman fell to the marble floor, her mask stained in crimson. A dagger—obsidian-hilted—jutted from her side.
Chaos erupted.
And just like that, the masquerade descended into madness.
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The silence that followed Kairo's command was more unsettling than the roar of battle. The courtyard was still, the scattered mercenaries now disarmed and corralled by his men, the blood that had been spilled already turning dark beneath the rain. Celeste stood near the broken pillars, her hands clenched at her sides, drenched and trembling. The mask of poise she wore earlier was cracking — and Elira saw it.
"Elira," Kairo called without turning around, his voice hoarse. "Come here."
She stepped forward, every breath loud in her ears, until she stood beside him. He didn't look at her, but he didn't need to. His presence was a tide — heavy and absolute.
"She betrayed you," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "Celeste..."
"No," Celeste snapped, voice splintered with emotion. "I did not betray him. I saved him. You don't know what you're talking about!"
Kairo slowly turned to face her, eyes burning through the rain. "Saved me?" His voice was frigid. "You hired a rogue militia to ambush my convoy."
"I intervened before the Riven Circle could," she shot back, stepping closer. "You think I would let them take you, tear you apart piece by piece for what you know? What you are? Kairo, I know the blood on your hands. But I also know you're not the monster they make you out to be. I was trying to protect you."
"You used innocent people as a shield," Elira said, stepping between them now. Her hair clung to her neck, her eyes unblinking. "Children, merchants, his own soldiers — they died because of what you planned."
Celeste flinched. "I didn't intend for them to—"
"But you let it happen." Kairo's voice dropped, thick and guttural. "You played savior while standing on a pile of bodies."
Celeste shook her head, stepping forward again. "You don't understand what's coming for you, Kairo. I've seen the messages. I've read the sealed reports you haven't. You think this is betrayal? The Veiled Dominion has marked you. The Syndicate is already making moves in Archeon. I tried to cut the line before it wrapped around your throat."
There was silence, taut and strained.
Kairo's jaw ticked. "You think I don't know what's coming?" His voice was deadly quiet now. "You think I haven't already made my choice?"
Celeste's face softened, almost pleading. "Then don't push me away. Don't push me into becoming your enemy just because I didn't do things your way."
Elira watched the exchange, the tension thick between them. For a flickering second, she saw a glimpse of the old Celeste — the one who stood beside Kairo in the ruins of Eltheron, who had once stitched his wounds with shaking hands. But now… there was too much blood between them.
"You already made that choice, Celeste," Kairo said at last, voice like iron. "Now live with it."
Celeste's eyes filled, but she didn't let them fall. "You still wear the pendant I gave you," she murmured, her gaze dropping briefly to the chain beneath his collar. "So somewhere in you… you still care."
"That's not sentiment," Kairo replied. "It's a reminder."
With that, he turned, walking past Elira and toward the gates. "We're done here."
Elira followed after him, her boots splashing through the growing puddles. Behind them, Celeste stood alone in the storm, her outline shrinking as the gates of the stronghold closed behind them.
---
Back inside the fortress, Kairo stopped in the corridor, gripping the stone wall beside him. His breath was shallow. He didn't speak for a long moment.
Elira stood beside him, hesitant. "You didn't have to be cruel."
"She would've twisted anything less," he murmured, finally meeting her eyes. "That's who she is now."
Elira studied his face. "And who are you?"
"I'm the man who keeps surviving," he said, then quietly added, "Even when it means losing everything I used to believe in."
The flickering torchlight made his scars seem deeper. Elira stepped closer, brushing her fingers against his hand.
"You haven't lost everything," she whispered.
Kairo looked at her — really looked at her — and in his eyes, for a moment, the storm gave way to something tender. "No," he said. "Not yet."
Outside, thunder echoed. But in the silence between them, something else settled — fragile, unspoken, but real.
To be continued in Chapter 38.
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