I blinked. Everyone around the table looked… unreal. More beautiful. More elegant.
Malachi, too—his features had sharpened and darkened. His eyes glowed brighter than firelight, and every shadow on his face seeming to deepen into some forbidden sculpted mystery. And yet his smile remained grounded in something human—almost mocking as he watched me take in the shift.
“You’re staring, little dove.”
“You didn’t warn me before I drank it,” I muttered, the words slipping out before I could catch them.
Malachi turned his head, brows lifting as though I’d grown a second scar. “Why would I warn you?” he asked, tone flat with genuine confusion.
Heat crept up my neck.
“I thought it would be more fun to watch,” he added after a beat, lips twitching in faint amusement.
A slow, incredulous breath left me. “Ah,” I said, turning my head just enough to look at him, “so youdidthink about it.”
His lips twitched—just once, reluctant amusement flashing across his face.
I looked down at the wine again. It was no longer just dark red. Threads of gold shimmered through the liquid, curling like veins of starlight. I was certain they hadn’t been there a moment ago.
“Wonderful,” I muttered dryly. “Dinner and delusions.”
“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “It won’t last long. Just heightens perception. Makes things feel more… vivid.”
I wasn’t sure if I liked vivid.
Kaelith turned to me then, his eyes locking on mine. “So, tell me, Aurelia… what brings you to Nyxarra?”
“I came for the Etherblooms,” I said at last, careful but direct. If I wanted to leave, I couldn’t waste time circling him with pleasantries.
His brows lifted, interest sparking. “Etherblooms? How curious.”
I held his gaze, forcing my voice to stay steady. “My brother needs them. Without them, he’ll die.”
Kaelith swirled the wine in his glass, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“Ah… family. Always the most dangerous weakness.”
His gaze traced me, too perceptive. “You have the look of someone who heals others—or perhaps someone who has been wounded one too many times and is in need of healing herself.”
I stiffened but held his gaze.
“Hm.” He savored the pause like a sip of wine. “Yes. Etherblooms.” He leaned back slightly, voice softening into something almost reverent. “Such delicate, stubborn little things… born, they say, from Kaerani’s grief. Do you know that story?”
My breath hitched. “I’ve heard versions.”
“Most have,” he murmured, amused. “But they forget the heart of it. When she and her sisters cast Eryndis out—when the goddess of thresholds vanished into the Veil—it was Kaerani who wept. Not from victory, but from guilt. Her tears struck barren stone and bled into petals silvered at the edges… ready to be painted red by anyone desperate enough to seek them.”
His eyes gleamed, sharp and hungry. “Shadow and moonlight kissed. Grief answered. And the firstEtherblooms grew.”
A prickle crawled down my spine.
Kaelith angled his head. “Tell me, Aurelia—what will you offer in return for something so rare?”
Beside me, Malachi went utterly still. His fingers curled slightly against the edge of his plate, the only sign that something in Kaelith’s question had landed harder than it should have.
Kaelith’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes gleamed with something sharper now—interest, maybe. Calculation.
“Perhaps you’re meant to find something else first,” he mused, as if my answer wasn’t what he wanted yet. “Answers. Power. Purpose.”