Iris~~

My dinner wasn't poisoned. At least not that I know of yet.

The wine I hold in my hands might be. Gwen, the Preeminence's sister, takes a sip of hers, eyeing me while Erik responds to her last question. Though my mind doesn't have that muddled feeling anymore, I refrain from making eye contact with her, keeping my line of sight shifted. There's plenty to distract me. The Society's ballroom is filled with people conversing. Above us hang silver chandeliers, and above those, the stars shine down on us through a glass ceiling. At the far end of the room, a window takes the place of a wall. At night, the mountains are hard to see, but I'm sure it's also beautiful view during the day.

"How is it that you two met?" she asks.

Erik responds for the both of us, lying of course, and despite my misgivings, I take a sip of my wine. It hasn't even been two hours, and I'm exhausted. Playing the game of not dying is more taxing than movies from other countries make it look. Every single day, those people could die. Just like me. It's strange to think that far to the north or south, east or west, I'd be normal.

The Preeminence sidles up to me. "Hello," he says to me before nodding to Gwen and Erik.

"Khaleedi"—light from one of the ballroom chandeliers bounces off Gwen's wreath as she turns—"Erik's telling me how he and Iris met." Khaleedi?

The Preeminence clasps his hands together, his fingers brushing mine in the process and a smile on his face. "I can't believe you're getting it out of him. By all means"—he waves his hand at them— "carry on with your conversation."

As the Preeminence commands, so let it be, I think as I watch the two of them resume where they left off, despite Erik's stiff posture.

"How was dinner?" the Preeminence asks me.

"You mean, how was your mother?"

He holds up his hands, his palms facing me. "And I've been found out."

"We didn't really talk, but she was nice. She asked me how I knew you, and I told her I was Erik's guest."

"I suppose that was rather awkward, considering she found you secluded in a room with me." Despite his words, he looks relieved.

"Oh, it was."

He glances at his sister before focusing on me. "It's nice to see you lightening up."

"You are quite terrifying. It's taken me a little bit of time to relax." I understand now why he didn't want me here. Not because I'm lesser in the eyes of the Society, but for my safety.

He places a hand on his silver laurel wreath. "Is the crown that intimidating?"

"No, it's beautiful." The words come out before I think better of it.

He smiles. "Thank you, love." I raise my eyebrows at the term, and he laughs before his smile turns into a grin.

"Do tell me, Jonas"—a man steps up beside the Preeminence— "what it is that has you laughing." That fog spreads over my mind again, and this time I have the sense to keep my head down.

"Colton," the Preeminence's voice sounds choked. "May I introduce you to Miss Iris Levine?"

I drop into a curtsy, not daring to look up. I wish I could blame the haze on the wine, but one sip won't do that to me.

"Iris, this is my brother, Colton, the future Beta."

"The elusive red head from the photos," Colton says.

Photos? The Preeminence mentioned something about them before. "I'm sorry?"

"From when Erik pulled you away from the car. We saw pictures of the back of your head."

My heart stops as suddenly as Gwen stops her conversation with Erik.

"Erik," she says, "you didn't mention anything about that."

"Because that's not the first time we met," Erik lies, and if I wasn't the other person in we, I'd believe him.

"Still." She pauses to examine her wine, dragging her finger along the rim. "It sounds important."

"I didn't think it was something one should bring up right away."

"Is bringing up that she has Molly's eyes something else no one should bring up right away?"

Silence ripples between all of us. The Preeminence moves an inch toward me while Erik's and Gwen's eyes are locked onto each other.

"Is that so?" Colton asks, and fingers wrap around my chin, yanking my head up to face him. I try my best to not make eye contact with him, but he's insistent, and when he meets my gaze, that ache in my head overcomes me, and I twist out of his grip only to find my back pressing against the Preeminence's chest.

The ache vanishes.

I've always known what Colton Blackwood looked like but seeing him this close, I realize he's like a bridge between the Preeminence and Gwen. He and Gwen have the same features, albeit Gwen's are softer, and while no one would mistake the Preeminence and Colton for twins, there is a similarity between them that only brothers share.

When Colton doesn't say anything, Gwen asks, "Aren't her eyes a striking resemblance?"

Colton adjusts his bronze laurel wreath. "Yes."

A man with reddish hair and pale white skin walks up to us, a smile spread across his face where a few freckles are scattered across his cheeks. "Erik." The man clasps Erik's arm. "I'm so happy you're home."

Erik returns the gesture but doesn't look as thrilled. "Riley. I'm sorry I missed your ceremony."

This time, his smile looks forced. "No, you aren't."

Riley, who also wears a laurel wreath, this one black with silver accents, and I are introduced, and I'm told he's the Eta, as I already knew. He's the eighth in command.

Two more young men walk up to us, the one on the left with umber-black skin and short black hair with a gold laurel wreath resting on top, the other with brown hair that's styled up in the front and sepia-brown skin, his suit a dark blue. When they reach us, the man on the left holds out his palm to me, and I place mine in his. He presses his lips against my knuckles. "So you're the girl my cousin brought home?"

I smile. "Yes."

"Tobias, the Undici." Eleventh in the Order.

The other man dips his head to me. "August, the Delta." He's fourth. "It's nice to meet any friend of Erik's."

Erik looks at him sharply. "Where is the rest of the Order?"

"Most are in Germany," the Preeminence says. "They called an emergency meeting with France, Britain, and us. Impeccable timing."

"They'll be missing our ceremonies." Colton takes a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing server.

Erik takes one of his own when the server comes back to offer them to us after seeing Colton's interest. "Emergency?"

The Preeminence looks like he might take one for a moment before he waves the server away. "Britain's trying to force Germany to back out of our treaty."

"Did Bently go?" Erik asks.

Gwen rolls her eyes. "Yes."

"Sorry to interrupt." Another man steps between Erik and me, also wearing a laurel wreath crown, but this one gold in his black hair. I know who he is. Eli, the Epsilon, fifth in command. I chose him to write a paper about one time because his mother was a foreigner. His father met her in Malaysia on a visit. The Epsilon's black hair is styled up in the front, a bronze laurel wreath in his hair, and his skin is a terra-cotta brown. His parentage fascinated me because it's practically impossible for me to meet a foreigner, and yet his father was able to marry one. In one of the paragraphs I wrote about how I thought he might turn out decent since one of his parents grew up far away from the influence of the Society.

He drags his hand leisurely up my arm. "New plaything?" Forget that part about me hoping he'd turn out decent.

I step to the side, biting back a retort.

Two other members of the previous Order married foreigners. The new Iota's father married a woman from the government in India, and the former Digamma also married a woman from another country. No one knows much about their child. They've kept him hidden from the public eye.

Eli seems to forget about me, turning to Erik. "Uncle Cyrus wishes to speak with you." The former Preeminence would not be the Epsilon's uncle, but his cousin. Calling him Uncle makes it seem like the Society is a tight-knit family, rather than a government of people who happen to be related.

Erik grimaces at me before following the Epsilon.

Gwen frowns. "Iris, I can't imagine what it must have been like for you."

My hand tightens around the stem of my glass. "What was?"

"Almost being hit." She steps toward me. "You poor thing." She hugs me in what I suppose is meant to look light and aloof, but her fingernails dig into my arm. "Poor thing indeed," she whispers. Out of the corner of my eye I see her glass tilt, and cold wine seeps through my dress. She steps back, her mouth parted in an O. "My goodness. I'm so sorry."

Red drips onto the light marble, reminiscent of blood . . . of course.

"Riley"—Gwen twirls her empty glass as if she was swishing liquid inside it— "would you be a doll and refill my glass? And please show Iris where she can clean up."

A reminder that you all are amazing and thank you for any votes and comments!

Instagram: @mikaelabender

#Bookstagram: @oflightsandfaeries

Twitter: @MikaelaBender

TikTok: @MikaelaBender