The hall was alive with the hum of voices, the clinking of glasses, and the soft melody of the orchestra. But as soon as Eleanor stepped in, a hush spread like wildfire.
Eyes turned. Conversations stopped.
She knew why.
The transformation was undeniable. She barely recognized herself when she glanced at the mirror before stepping out. Esther and the other maids had ensured every detail was flawless—her hair cascading in soft waves, her skin glowing under the dim candlelight, her gown hugging her frame like it was made just for her.
But none of that mattered.
Her heart was pounding, her hands clammy as she scanned the room for Silas.
Where was he?
He was the only one who could expound more of this confusion about being bound to them. And she wanted to see him too, desperately.
Her eyes flitted across the crowd until she met Lucien’s gaze. He was smirking, looking far too entertained by her distress.
Next was Dorian, offering her his usual sweet smile—one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Then Viktor, unreadable as ever. And finally, Cassius, his expression cold, detached.
No sign of Silas.
A hand appeared in front of her.
Lucien.
"Shall we?" His voice was smooth, a little too inviting.
Eleanor hesitated before slipping her fingers into his. His grip was firm but not forceful as he led her to the dance floor.
The moment they began moving, the other guests followed suit, couples pairing up, the air filling with the sound of rustling gowns and soft laughter.
But between her and Lucien, there was only silence. The weight of unspoken words pressed between them.
Eleanor cleared her throat. "You don’t talk much, do you?"
Lucien chuckled but didn’t answer.
Her brow furrowed. “I was going to ask you something.”
"I know."
She blinked. "You do?"
His smirk widened. “It’s about the ceremony, isn’t it?”
She exhaled sharply. “Of course it is.”
Lucien twirled her effortlessly before pulling her back into place. “Then be patient.”
Be patient?
Was that all any of them were going to say?
Frustration twisted inside her. How could she be patient when she didn’t even know what was about to happen? When Silas wasn’t even here?
The same thoughts churned in her mind, clawing at her insides. What did it mean to be bound to them? Would she belong to all of them? Was she being tied to them forever?
Would she ever be free again?
A pit formed in her stomach at the possibility.
“Lucien.”
“Shh,” he murmured. “Just enjoy the dance.”
Eleanor opened her mouth to argue—
“May I?”
Viktor’s deep voice cut through.
Lucien stopped, his smirk never wavering. “Of course.”
Eleanor barely had time to react before Viktor took her hand and pulled her close. His hold was different from Lucien’s—stronger, more controlled. She stared up at him. His expression remained unreadable. He pulled her close, their bodies almost flush against each other.
The difference was instant.
Viktor was steady, controlled, but there was something intense in the way he held her—something that made her pulse quicken.
Eleanor swallowed.
Fine. If they wouldn’t tell her about the ceremony, she would ask something else.
“Where is Silas?”
Viktor raised an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”
Eleanor hesitated. “He’s not here.”
Viktor’s lips curled ever so slightly. “Observant.”
She exhaled sharply. “You’re all keeping things from me. I deserve answers.”
He tilted his head. “Do you?”
She gritted her teeth. “Will he come?”
A flicker of amusement crossed Viktor’s face. “Why does it matter?”
Eleanor froze.
Why did it matter?
She shouldn’t care.
But she did.
Before she could form an answer, Viktor twirled her once more—before releasing her entirely.
A new hand grasped hers.
Dorian.
His grip was gentler, his touch feather-light.
“You look lovely,” he murmured as they swayed.
Eleanor barely processed his words. “Dorian—”
He shushed her softly. “No questions. Just enjoy the dance.”
She clenched her jaw but obeyed.
For a moment, she let herself drift into the rhythm, let the music carry her.
Dorian leaned down, whispering, “Everything will be clear soon.”
A shiver ran down her spine.
And just like that, he twirled her into another set of hands.
Cassius.
His grip was brief, his movements stiff. He barely looked at her.
Eleanor barely had time to process it before the music came to an abrupt halt.
Silence.
Dorian leaned in. “It’s time.”
Eleanor’s breath hitched. She nodded, swallowing hard. Her eyes darted around the room one last time—searching for Silas. And that’s when she saw him.
Not Silas.
Someone else.
Her body went rigid and the world around her faded. There, standing in the crowd, staring straight at her—
Was her father.