Chapter 29: _ Pre-Ball Madness

Elira No-One

...

I was losing a sword fight.

That wouldn’t have been so embarrassing if my opponents weren’t four giant, slavering beast-monsters—and even worse, if they didn’t all share the exact faces of people I hated.

Tobin snapped at my ankle with his feral fangs. High Rector Maddox hovered overhead, shrieking about discipline while trying to claw out my eyes. Her son was there too, looking bored and blood-soaked, trying to fry my brain with fae magic, while Lord Griffith floated in the back, cackling like a lunatic.

I parried a blow, my legs buckling. "Can you all just die already?"

Raice’s monster face sneered. "Even fae magic can’t heal your terrible footwork, markless."

Before Raice could turn my head into a smoking crater, a flash of crimson light split the dark sky.

A knight in shining red armor dropped from the heavens, drawing a glowing blade that cleaved Maddox and Griffith in two with a single swift sweep. He spun around to drive his sword directly through Tobin’s chest.

It was him!

The red-haired stalker.

He looked like the kind of person stories promised would arrive at the worst moment. The kind of person who reached for you before you hit the ground.

I gasped, my heart pounding fast as the knight turned to face me.

He lifted his visor, revealing the most vibrant red hair and emerald eyes that seemed to instantly made my mouth water.

Without thinking, I stepped forward and pulled the knight into a desperate kiss. The knight melted into my touch. His hands rested on my waist... until his lips suddenly turned dry and cracked.

I pulled back, my eyes widening in horror.

The knight wasn’t that red-haired wolf anymore. It was Tobin, grinning down at me with black-stained teeth.

"Surprise," Tobin rasped.

Panicking, I stumbled backward, looking down at the corpse the red-haired knight had just killed. It wasn’t Tobin at all.

It was Miriel, lying lifeless in a pool of her own blood.

Then all of a sudden, the dead monsters around us burst into shrieking, hysterical laughter. Tobin started laughing too, his eyes turning pitch-black as the ground beneath me crumbled into a void.

"Elira! Wake up! We’re going to be late!"

Someone was violently shaking my shoulders.

I gasped, bolting upright as the cold air of our dorm room hit my lungs. Sweat slicked my forehead, my chest heaving as my vision cleared.

Miriel was leaning directly over me, hands planted on my shoulders, looking like she was bearing the weight of the whole world on her... glossed shoulders?

Oh, Miriel and being extra with everything.

But... I’d never been happier to see that extra-ness. The monsters were just a nightmare.

Across the room, Bren sat on the edge of her bed, wearing a dark blue gown provided by Clement. She was holding a sparkling crystal hairpiece with two fingers, staring at it with utter revulsion.

I blinked away the lingering terror of the dream and glanced at Bren. "What’s wrong with you?"

"Don’t even ask," Bren growled, tossing the hairpiece onto her mattress like it was a venomous spider.

"Ignore her," Miriel said, already sweeping through the room like a hurricane, gathering combs, ribbons, and small glass vials of scented oils. "There are noble ladies like me who have men to impress."

I couldn’t believe how overly excited she was for this like we weren’t there to hunt or be hunted.

"What men?" I scoffed.

"Him, of course!" She made a dreamy spin.

I rolled my eyes, "Him, who?"

"The red-haired noble who was stalking me yesterday, silly! Who else?" She mused, shrugging sweetly.

What?

The mention of him suddenly made the hair at the back of my neck stand on end.

Bren spoke before I did. "You’re delusional, Miriel. Wake up."

"Well, Bren, you have broad shoulders and short hair, so you just might look like a palace guard even in the pretty ballgown. I wouldn’t be surprised if you know nothing about fate and romance." Miriel huffed, chin going up.

I sat frozen, pure horror creeping down my spine as I listened to Miriel gush.

She is actually romanticizing the shapeshifting, assaulting, ability-stealing killer?

"NO!" I screamed, bolting out of bed so loud it echoed off the stone walls.

Miriel shrieked, dropping her armful of ribbons.

Bren flinched, instantly reaching for the dagger strapped to her thigh, her eyes darting toward the locked door. "Where?! Is he here?!"

Both girls stared at me as if I’d completely lost my mind.

"I—I think I finally remembered what happened!" I panted, running a hand through my messy hair. "The red-haired stalker... I-I think he’s Tobin!"

Our glossy roommate’s jaw dropped, face crumpling in heartbreak. "What?!"

"While you two were unconscious, he must have shapeshifted into that red-haired stalker to run away and not get noticed!"

"No. Absolutely not. That cannot be true."

"Miriel..."

"Because I refuse to believe the first handsome man to ever look at me like a person since my family’s fall was secretly a murderer."

For a second, I wanted to laugh at her.

Then I remembered what it felt like to have someone look at you and make you feel like you belonged somewhere for the first time in your life and then never fulfill their promise of finding you.

I stopped laughing.

Bren’s eyes went round. "Get over yourself, Miriel."

She in return, let out a dramatic scream of pure heartbreak, clutching her chest. "Noooo! Why me? Why always meeee?"

Bren, however, lowered her hand from her dagger, her brow furrowing as she looked at me. "Elira... are you sure? Because that doesn’t make any sense."

"What do you mean?"

"After fighting us and luring us all the way out there," Bren reasoned, stepping closer, "why would Tobin just show you he can shapeshift and then run away? Without killing us? Without stealing our powers?"

My face burned as the realization hit me.

Bren was right. It sounded completely absurd.

I scratched my messy hair, groaning in frustration. "I... I know it doesn’t make sense! I can’t remember all the details yet, okay? But that red-haired stalker was definitely there!"

Miriel tapped her chin thoughtfully, her eyes lighting up. "Could he have been the one who came to save us? What if he was the one who scared Tobin away?"

"He looked noble," Bren scoffed, crossing her arms. "Why would a noble wolf do that for low-born Dragons?"

"I am not lowborn!" Miriel protested, stomping her foot.

I tuned out Miriel’s indignation, my eyes drifting toward my bedside table. Sitting next to my washbasin was the silver pin he had dropped. The wolf-head emblem gleamed cold under the dim morning light.

We didn’t know his name or who he was—only that he belonged to the Wolf faction.

I strapped my chin up. "Whatever it could be that went down, we need to treat the ball as an investigative ground. I don’t care which one of them it is. If I see Tobin or that wolf again, I’m not waiting around to find out which monster is wearing which face."

I looked at both of them, my voice turning dead serious. "We aren’t sure who the real culprit is, but it’s best we treat anyone we see between the two as the culprit."

Bren nodded. "Agreed."

"Ugh, stop!" Miriel whined at the gloomy mood. "It’s a ball! We should be jolly!"

She marched over and aggressively dragged both Bren and me toward the vanity mirror.

"The entire realm is going to drool at our feet by the time I’m done dressing you up," Miriel declared, picking up a silver hairbrush like a scepter. "Even someone as stiff as Bren!"

Bren rolled her eyes, but she didn’t resist as Miriel shoved her down onto the stool.

Tonight, the hunt was on.