Chapter 88 : Night of the Festival
The lanterns had been lit at sunset, casting the academy in hues of honeyed gold and dusky rose. Colorful paper banners swayed gently above the courtyard, trembling with every breeze that passed. Music drifted on the air—bright flute trills over the steady beat of drum and bell—as students wove in and out of stalls, laughter trailing behind them.
Elias adjusted his collar for the third time and stared down at the melted smear of frosting on his sleeve. Courtesy of Theo's "experimental eclair." Courtesy, also, of Theo's elbows.
Somewhere beyond the crowd, a student in a feathered hat juggled enchanted fruit while another—possibly enchanted himself—sang a ballad about soup. Elias only half-listened. His gaze kept darting back to the performance platform.
She hadn't come out yet.
"She's not going to do it," Theo said beside him, slurping on a bright pink drink. "You know that, right? Revantra. She hates crowds. Hates attention. Hates sparkly things unless she's setting them on fire. Which she may do tonight if someone hands her a tambourine."
"She said she'd think about it," Elias replied, more to himself than anyone else. "That's not a no."
Theo gave him a look. "That's not a yes either. That's a 'maybe if I'm feeling unusually merciful toward humanity and my mood isn't cursed by bad cafeteria pudding.' Which, tonight, it is."
But Elias had seen something in her eyes earlier that day—something that hadn't been there before. Not just hesitation. Not dread. But something deeper. Yearning, maybe. Fear tangled up in hope.
He turned toward the edge of the crowd just in time to see the sea of bodies subtly shift.
She was coming.
Revantra stepped into the light, alone.