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Lady Gemma Ashbourne seemingly has it all. She’s young, gorgeous, and rich. Her family was Anointed by the gods, blessed with incredible abilities. But underneath her glittering façade, Gemma is deeply sad. Years ago, her sister Mara was taken to the Middlemist to guard against treacherous magic. Her mother abandoned the family. Her father and eldest sister, Farrin—embroiled in a deadly blood feud with the mysterious Bask family—often forget Gemma exists.
I had long considered myself an expert in the realm of beauty, both in terms of my own appearance and my assessment of others. But in all my study of garments and jewels, flora and design, hair and eyes and bodies, not once had I seen a creature as beautiful as Talan d’Astier. I tried not to imagine how foolish I no doubt looked, gaping up at him with naked admiration, and quickly schooled my features into a coquettish smile. No beautiful foreigner with a tragic past would best me at my own game.
I set my jaw, pushing back against the rising familiar feeling of sick disappointment. No matter. Whether or not Father cared to notice, I would do my duty. “Mr. d’Astier,” I returned cheerfully, “I must say I find it odd that you would attend a party in a foreign land and proceed to educate the hostess on her own customs.”
Talan stumbled a little, and I swallowed a smug smile as I corrected our misstep, steering us back on course. A few more triumphs like that, and I would entirely forget the pain blooming throughout my body. I considered him in stony silence until he looked away, embarrassed, and bit his delectable lower lip. Satisfied that I had regained the upper hand, I said smoothly, “Well, Talan d’Astier of Vauzanne, you’re bold, perhaps even brazen, but you’re not wrong. Maybe after our dance, you and Farrin can exchange sad stories by the fire.”
“The Basks?” A slight pause, then Talan clicked his tongue. “Ah, yes. That northern family who vanished, yes? And only recently reappeared?”“Trapped? By what?” I giggled, shaky with nerves. Even drunk as I was, a distant part of me understood that I was treading on dangerous ground. That our family and the Bask family had long been enemies was common knowledge, but very few people knew the true extent of it, not even me.
“Would you be so kind as to remind me how we got here?” I mumbled, gripping the cushion’s velvet piping to remain upright. It was as if some spellcrafter had enchanted me, tugging each word out of me on a knotted string I simply had to expel from my body. I could not stop telling the story, and I did not want to. It felt good to say it aloud, the whole ridiculous tale. I even found it rather funny, sitting there in the curtained shadows with Talan staring at me, aghast, though nothing about my family’s situation had ever seemed funny to me before that night.
I sagged back against the wall, utterly spent, and looked at Talan with a dumb, soppy grin on my face. “We can help each other, Gemma,” he whispered, his voice like silk against my skin. “I have to believe we can help each other.” “If you help me restore my family’s name and honor,” he said very low, his eyes fixed on me, his breath hot and wine-sweet on my mouth, “I will help you hunt your family’s demon, and I will not rest until he is destroyed and you and yours are free. I could not save my own family. But maybe if we work together, I can save yours.”
Talan shook his head. “And yet one was on my continent, in Vauzanne, and was the ruin of my family. Not even the gods in all their glory were perfect, and with a sister serving at the Middlemist, you should know better than most that no seal between worlds is impenetrable.” I stood and moved away from him too quickly, my knees wobbling. My head spun, and I leaned hard against the wall to steady myself. Whatever comfort the wine had brought to my aching body was beginning to fade, and quickly, as if Talan’s words had fallen upon me like fists. The frenzied magic in the ballroom swarmed and swirled just beyond my reach, crowding closer with each unsteady breath I drew.
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