Sundered by Fate (Shadowbound #3)

Chapter 12

Twelve

A s Aric entered the grand ballroom of the Regalia Palace, the sheer opulence of the setting nearly took his breath away. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the marble floors, while sweeping curtains of gold and crimson framed the enormous stained glass windows that looked out over Astaria. The walls were adorned with tapestries and paintings depicting legendary battles and mythical beasts—though none could rival the fierce beauty he had glimpsed firsthand in the demon realm.

He was painfully aware of the eyes upon him as he moved further inside—noble ladies in glittering gowns, lords with polished armor glinting under the lights, mage scholars sporting embroidered robes that matched their guilds' colors. All were caught up in a whirlwind of movement and music and power.

"Did you hear?" one of the guests was saying to her companion. "They say the king's health is failing faster than we thought."

Aric's stomach tightened at this revelation, but there was no time to dwell on it as another voice joined the fray:

"They say Lord Regent Valerian has his own plans in motion. Rumors about alliances with mages from beyond our borders?—"

Aric ground his teeth together as he adjusted his cravat once more, his formal attire suddenly feeling too tight. He couldn't let their idle gossip distract him now; he needed to focus on his own mission for the evening.

He found a quiet corner near one of the banquet tables and surveyed the room from there, forcing himself to ignore both the sumptuous feast laid out before him—more food than most saw in months, with endless possibilities for seasoning if not spice—and those unnerving whispers that seemed to follow him everywhere he went.

But most of all, he tried not to think about Valerian—his impassioned voice calling for change, for progress and innovation?—

His closeness in that starlit stroll across Astaria's bridges—each touch burning more than golden flames ever had.

"Lord Regent." The other nobles lowered their heads in deference. "Will you join us for this next dance?"

Valerian's piercing blue eyes swept over the group, assessing, before settling on Aric.

"Actually, if you don't mind, I would ask Solarian here to join me for a waltz."

The air seemed to still at Valerian's words. Aric's heart thudded in his chest. He caught a glimpse of Cyrus's eyes narrowing as he realized Valerian had turned from him, that smug leer twisting into a snarl before he turned away.

"I—yes, of course."

Valerian took Aric's arm, leading him toward the center of the dance floor. Even through his gloves, Aric felt the heat of Valerian's touch.

The music shifted into a waltz, and they began to move together, Valerian's hand firm on Aric's waist, his other holding Aric's in a grasp that was more than guiding.

"You look very handsome tonight," Valerian said in a low voice meant only for Aric.

Aric's cheeks heated. "Thank you, my lord."

They moved in time with the music, Valerian leading them across the floor with a grace that spoke of countless evenings like this one.

"You've caused quite a stir since your return," Valerian said. "I've heard many whispers about you."

"I imagine not all of them favorable."

"Perhaps not. But the court loves nothing more than an enigma." Valerian's eyes locked onto Aric's, an intensity in his eyes that made Aric's breath catch. "And you are certainly that."

Aric fought to hold his composure as they turned and swirled with the other dancers. The scent of Valerian—some kind of sandalwood cologne—was intoxicatingly close.

"What is it you wish to know, my lord?" Aric asked carefully.

"Oh, so many things." Valerian smiled, though it didn't reach those too-perceptive eyes. "But let us start with your thoughts on our current political situation."

"I would hardly presume to advise you on such matters?—"

"But I am asking." His fingers squeezed Aric's hand with surprising force. "As one outsider to another. I find myself in need of fresh perspectives these days."

Aric nodded slowly. "I think...there are many threats to our stability that must be addressed," he said cautiously. "Both internal and external."

"Indeed." They twirled again, and Valerian's hand slipped lower on Aric's back before returning to its proper position. "I've heard worrying rumors about certain factions gaining influence within our ranks."

"The Pureblades have their own agenda," Aric agreed, unable to fully hide his distaste.

"And what would your agenda be, Solarian?" Valerian leaned closer as they dipped together in perfect sync with the music.

Aric swallowed hard. "To protect our realm from all threats. No matter where they might come from."

"A noble goal." Valerian pulled him back upright, and their eyes met once more. "I share it as well—though I find our methods may differ."

The song began to wind down, the final notes stretching out between them like a taut wire.

"Tell me," Valerian said softly. "Have you given any thought to my proposition? About joining me in my...research?"

Aric hesitated as the last chord hummed in the air around them.

"I fear my answer may disappoint you, my lord."

He braced himself for anger or scorn—but instead, Valerian only smiled.

"On the contrary." Valerian lifted Aric's gloved hand to his lips with gallant deference. "You continue to intrigue me all the more."

As the dance with Valerian ended, Aric's eyes were drawn to Ruta and Olaya in a secluded alcove, the two of them standing far closer than mere friends might.

Olaya's hand rested lightly on Ruta's arm, her head tilted as she listened to whatever Ruta was saying with a soft smile. Ruta glanced up at her with an expression Aric had only seen when the other mages in their group spoke of their hometowns, or when recounting their own stories of battle victories—but never like this. Something deep and warm and far more intimate.

Aric's heart lifted for her.

He hesitated for a moment longer before approaching them, unsure if he should intrude. But Olaya caught his eye and gave him a barely perceptible nod, and Ruta turned toward him with a warm smile.

"Aric!" Ruta greeted him, stepping away from Olaya just slightly. "You look as though you've been enjoying yourself."

Aric shrugged, but he was smiling. "The Lord Regent is...an intriguing man."

"Intriguing is one word for it," Olaya muttered, her expression cooling slightly at the mention of Valerian.

Ruta elbowed her gently, and Olaya sighed. "I am glad to see you here, Aric," she said more warmly. "It has been far too long."

"For all of us." Aric's gaze flickered between them again. "Though it seems you two have not been apart in quite some time."

Ruta laughed softly, linking her arm through Olaya's. "We have been quite inseparable since our return to Astaria." Her dark eyes glinted at Aric. "I owe you so much for bringing me back to my people."

Aric waved off the praise awkwardly. "I only did what anyone would do."

Olaya was watching him carefully now. "Not everyone would take such risks for those they barely knew." Her voice was quiet, serious. "You have always cared far too much for your own good."

Aric felt himself blushing, though he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the wine or the heat of so many bodies packed into one room.

"I care because I believe we can be better," he said finally.

Ruta smiled at that, squeezing Olaya's hand fondly. "Yes. We can."

Aric's steps were faltering as he stumbled off the dance floor, still dazed from the Lord Regent's touch. But he barely had a moment to catch his breath before Davin appeared before him, eyes alight.

"May I have this dance, Solarian?" Davin asked with a teasing grin, but Aric heard the undercurrent of something rawer beneath it. "I promise not to talk politics."

Aric was too rattled to refuse. "Of course." He allowed Davin to take his hand, and the feel of Davin's warm skin against his own sent a jolt through him.

As they moved together, Davin's touch was gentler than Valerian's but no less charged with unspoken tension. They fell into the rhythm of the music easily, as if they had danced this way a thousand times before.

"It's been a long time," Davin said softly. "Since we've danced like this."

Aric nodded, throat suddenly tight. Memories flooded back unbidden—summer nights at the Silver Tower, endless hours in the library debating magical theory until dawn...

All the moments they might have shared if not for Aric's need to push everyone away.

"I've missed it," Aric admitted.

He felt rather than saw Davin's smile, felt the other man's fingers flex around his hand. "I've missed you."

Aric's heart skipped a beat at the admission. He was suddenly acutely aware of how close they were standing, of the slight height difference that let him look up into those freckled green eyes. Davin's hair, coppery red, gleamed in the ballroom's golden light.

It would be so easy to give in to this. To sink back into the comfortable companionship they had once shared and let all his responsibilities and worries fall away.

But then he caught sight of Valerian watching them from across the room with an unreadable expression, and Aric was reminded of just how much hung in the balance.

"Davin..." Aric hesitated, unsure what he even wanted to say.

Davin's hold on him loosened ever so slightly. "I know there are things we can't speak of here. But whatever it is that's weighing on you—you're not alone."

Aric swallowed hard as they continued their slow orbit around each other. He wanted desperately to believe that—but he knew too well how quickly things could change.

"I know," he said finally. "But there are...complications."

Davin nodded, understanding in those freckled eyes that threatened to undo him entirely. "Just don't let your fear stop you from living."

They moved together until the song ended, and then released each other reluctantly as applause broke out around them.

As much as Aric wanted to cling to Davin a little longer—to seek solace in old familiarities—he knew he couldn't ignore what was coming for them all.

Mid-dance, Aric caught a flicker of silver hair, a glimpse of swirling eyes the color of twilight. Sylthris. Her presence was as brief and elusive as smoke, vanishing into the crowd before he could be sure she'd been there at all.

"Aric?" Davin's brow furrowed as he followed Aric's gaze.

"I—I need a moment. Please, excuse me."

Aric extracted himself from Davin's hold, the loss of warmth immediate and jarring. He moved through the throngs of dancers and revelers, searching for any sign of Sylthris's path.

As he pushed through the crowd, snippets of conversation reached him?—

"—the demons have been quiet lately. Too quiet."

"They say strange things have been happening in the forest. Lights and noises, animals acting wild?—"

"It's that damned mage's fault. He's brought nothing but trouble since he came back?—"

Aric's anxiety deepened with each whispered word. The anomaly. It had to be connected somehow, just like the storms and visions in Thornhaven.

And yet all he saw were smiling faces, hear only laughter and music that droned on over his own rapid heartbeat.

Aric slipped past the dancers, his heart pounding as he tried to follow where Sylthris might have gone. But before he could reach the far side of the ballroom, a group of nobles blocked his path, their eyes sharp and assessing.

"Solarian," one of them said in a clipped voice. "We were hoping to have a word."

The speaker was Lord Tavian, one of the more vocal Pureblade supporters Aric had encountered during his time in the palace. The others were familiar faces as well—Lord Marchand, Lady Elira, and a few others Aric couldn't name. Their presence sent a shiver down Aric's spine; he envisioned their disdain like a physical weight pressing down on him.

"Of course," Aric replied with a careful smile. "Though I can't imagine what we might have to discuss."

"Oh, don't be coy." Tavian gestured for Aric to join them in a nearby alcove, away from the music and chatter of the ballroom. "You're the talk of the palace these days. We've been quite curious about your . . . loyalties."

Aric forced himself to remain still even as his skin itched with anticipation. This was dangerous territory; one misstep here, and the Pureblades would have all the ammunition they needed against him.

"My loyalties are with Astaria," he said carefully. "I am a mage of the Silver Tower, sworn to protect our people from any threat."

Tavian made a dismissive noise. "That's not what we've heard." He leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with malice. "We've heard you've been keeping rather...interesting company as of late."

Aric's heart skipped again, memories of Valerian's touch too fresh in his mind. Did they know about his dance with the Lord Regent? Or was this something else—Sylthris's shadow lingering around him wherever he went?

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean," Aric said, keeping his voice steady.

"Don't play games with us." Marchand's voice was rougher than Tavian's, and his stare even more unnerving. "We're aware there are those who wish to see our dear kingdom torn apart from within—and it's our job to root out all traitors and dissenters before they can do any harm."

"Is that so." Aric met Marchand's stare head-on, refusing to let himself be intimidated by whatever power play this was supposed to be. "I assure you I have no desire to harm my home?—"

"I'm glad to hear it." Marchand's lips curled into an oily smile. "Because rumors have reached us that some at court may feel differently—and I'm sure we'd hate for anything unpleasant to happen on account of such divisive attitudes taking root among our leaders..."

Suddenly, a commotion erupted near the balcony. Aric rushed to investigate, pushing through the startled crowd. He discovered a nobleman collapsed on the ground, babbling incoherently about shadows and whispers.

"What's going on?" Aric demanded, kneeling beside the fallen man. "Sir, can you hear me?"

The nobleman let out a strangled cry, his eyes rolling back in his head. "The shadows . . . they're everywhere . . . Can't escape . . ."

As Aric reached out to steady him, he noticed a faint, shimmering distortion in the air nearby. His breath caught. He'd seen this before, back in Thornhaven.

A ripple of unease spread through the crowd as they noticed the distortion too. Fear and confusion painted their faces, and whispers of dark magic and assassins filled the air.

Aric knew he needed to act fast before panic set in. "Everyone, please remain calm," he said, trying to inject authority into his voice. "I'm a mage of the Silver Tower. I'll handle this."

He focused his senses on the distortion, trying to ascertain its nature. It felt like a tear in reality itself, a portal to something dark and twisted that shouldn't exist in their world.

The distortion slowly shrank and faded from view—but not before leaving behind an oily residue on the very fabric of reality itself. Aric's mind was already working furiously to determine what it could mean when someone else stepped forward through the throng of onlookers gathered around them.

"What happened here?" Lord Regent Valerian demanded, pushing through the crowd.

Aric felt himself tense involuntarily as Valerian approached; his head still spun from their earlier dance together that evening—but now there was no room left for distraction or personal feelings when something so dire was unfolding right before them all.

Valerian's blue eyes snapped over to Aric, assessing him with that same unnerving intensity as earlier in their dance.

"What do you make of this, Solarian?" he asked. "Have you ever seen anything like it before?"

Aric hesitated, then shook his head. "Nothing in this world, my lord."

Valerian's frown deepened, and he seemed to be measuring his next words carefully.

"This is a matter for the Pureblades," Cyrus announced as he and his men pushed their way forward. "Step aside."

Aric bit back a retort, but Valerian caught his arm, giving him a quick shake of his head. "Let them have their investigation," Valerian murmured. "It's better we have them distracted by shadowy threats than turning their attention back on us."

Reluctantly, Aric nodded and stepped away from the nobleman as the Pureblades began their examination.

He felt Valerian's eyes on him as he turned away.

Valerian leaned in, his breath warm against Aric's cheek. "There is much we could discuss, you and I. Matters of great import to our realm." He paused, his lips curving into a smile. "Perhaps you would join me in my private chambers later this evening, where we can speak more freely."

The invitation hung between them, laden with both political and personal undertones. Aric hesitated, unsure of the Lord Regent's true intentions. Was this merely an opportunity for Valerian to gauge Aric's allegiances? Or was there something more at play—some deeper connection that Valerian sought to explore?

"I would be honored, my lord," Aric replied finally, the words tasting sweet and dangerous on his tongue. "Though I fear I may not have the answers you seek."

Valerian's smile widened. "Oh, I'm sure you will surprise me."

Aric stood alone at the edge of the ballroom, his heart still racing from the evening's encounters. The night had been a tapestry of intrigue and danger, each thread weaving together into a pattern he could not yet decipher.

The Pureblades were gaining influence, their zealous vision of a "purified" kingdom gaining traction in the absence of a true king. Valerian's ambitions, while more subtle, were no less dangerous. And then there was the anomaly—an unknown threat that had already claimed the lives of those Aric cared about.

Aric's mind was a whirl as he pondered his next steps. He had come to Astaria seeking answers, but he was no closer to finding them than when he arrived.

Except for one thing: Valerian's secret research space. The lord regent had alluded to it more than once, and Aric's instincts told him that whatever was behind those doors held the key to understanding the anomaly's nature.

But gaining access to it would not be easy. He would need to tread carefully, avoid raising Valerian's suspicions—or Cyrus's, for that matter. And he would need to do so without drawing too much attention from his old friends at the Silver Tower.

Aric turned his gaze toward the entrance of the ballroom, where a pair of Pureblade guards stood watch. If he could find a way past them?—

A chill ran through his veins, as if someone were watching him. Aric turned quickly, but saw nothing out of place among the dwindling crowd.

His steps quickened as he made his way out of the ballroom. The guards nodded to him as he passed, their eyes wary. Aric gave them a polite smile before heading down the grand staircase that led toward his quarters.

Once again, he felt that prickling sensation on the back of his neck, a cold dread blooming inside him. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw her standing in the shadows near the staircase landing: Sylthris.

Their eyes locked for a tense moment before she vanished once more into the darkness beyond sight—but not before one thought flitted unbidden through Aric's mind: Beware the shadow in the court.

Aric clenched his jaw as he continued down the corridor leading away from the ballroom and toward his suite. He would have to move quickly if he wanted any chance at reaching Valerian's hidden chamber before anyone else noticed—and perhaps learning whatever truths lay within its depths that had drawn so many close and dangerous enemies around him this night.