“Okay. But how will a gala change my mind about Kols?”
“It’s not about Kolstov, Aflora. It’s about purpose.”
“I… I’m not clear on what you mean.”
He considered for a moment before saying, “The Blood Gala is a political affair.”
“Yeah, I get that part.”
“No, I don’t think you do,” he murmured, his eyes catching and holding mine.
My heart skipped a beat. “Okay.” It came out on a whisper. Because the intensity in his gaze told me that I wasn’t going to like whatever he intended to say next.
“Aflora, the Blood Gala is an annual event that celebrates the death of the Quandary Bloods. It’s hosted by the Nacht family, and the sole purpose is for them to gloat over all the blood they’ve spilled. That is what I want you to observe.”
AFLORA’S SILENCE confirmed she hadn’t known the purpose of the Blood Gala. She wasn’t a born Midnight Fae, so she didn’t grow up with horror stories about the Quandary Bloods and our terrible intentions.
I nearly snorted.
The Nacht family had destroyed the sixth house of Midnight Fae. All for greed and power. Alas, that was a tale as old as time itself. Everyone sought control. However, Quandary Bloods were the ones born with it.
“What do you plan to do at the Blood Gala?” Aflora asked quietly.
“I already answered that,” I replied.
“You expect me to believe you only want me to observe?”
“I don’t expect anything from you,” I admitted. “I’m asking if you’ll attend with me so I can better explain our cause. That’s all.”
I meant it, too.
The Blood Gala was too obvious a place for us to attack. Besides, our disguises would already require an exorbitant amount of power. Adding violence to the mix wouldn’t bode well for anyone involved.
She studied me, her blue eyes radiating intelligence. It made me want to peek inside her mind, to hear her thoughts. She often spoke them loudly, making it an easy task.
However, I waited for her to utter them out loud instead, content to continue holding her on my lap. She hadn’t put up much of a fight, and I liked how she unconsciously leaned into my touch. Our bond had matured over the years, despite the masking spell.
Breaking it would hurt worse than making her forget—a fact my father seemed to happily disregard. Pain served as a teaching tool to him, one he used to strengthen my resolve.
But dismantling my connection to Aflora lacked a true purpose. If anything, remaining bonded empowered us both.
“I want to talk to my other mates,” she said suddenly, causing me to frown.
“What?”
“You want me to trust your intentions. I’m giving you a way to earn some of that trust. Let me talk to my mates, and I’ll consider attending the Blood Gala.”
She really wasn’t in a position to negotiate with me. I could easily weave a compliance enchantment around her, then drag her to the event. However, a young, immature part of me longed to have her attend willingly.
That part of me was tied to the boy I used to be.
The boy who considered Aflora his best friend.
“You want to talk to your other mates,” I repeated out loud, thinking through her request. This gave me an opportunity to show her my kinder side—a side I would likely only ever reveal to her. However, it would be on my terms, in an environment I could control.
Like the dream she just experienced with her mates.
Yes.