Rhea

The Silver Stag was alive—too alive.

Stone walls curved inward like the ribcage of some long-dead beast, runes pulsing faintly in rhythm with the music. Each sigil thrummed like veins of light, enchanted by old Accord wards to keep tempers from flaring into chaos. Here, dominance and heartbreak alike bled into the magic and got shackled by it. Warm lanterns shaped like antlers threw golden light across rough-hewn beams, silverleaf moss swayed from the ceiling, and the scent—cedar smoke, fresh bread, sharp magic-laced florals—bit at the back of my throat like temptation.

The crowd pressed close. Wolves, fae, even a Drakonis boy whose scales caught the firelight, all moving in time with an enchanted band in the corner: a lute floating midair, strings plucked by threads of light, drums pounding like a second heartbeat under my ribs. Magic saturated the air until it buzzed through my skin, loosening the knot in my chest one reckless beat at a time.

Three drinks in, the ache dulled enough to almost forget.

Moonfire Kiss. Molten silver that shimmered like quicksilver when tilted, spiced pear and smoke curling heat along my spine. My bones felt loose, laughter spilling too loud, too easy. Figures—the only thing to ever set me on fire was liquor.

Wolf’s Breath. Honey-golden, sweet until it snapped back with fangs. Colours bled richer, laughter sharper, every glance too close. Music scraped my skin until my hips obeyed without asking.

Shadowvine Ale. Violet glow, pulsing faintly as though alive. Cool clarity cutting through the haze like claws. Scents sharpened—rain-soaked forest, pine, leather. The wards in the walls hummed louder, tasting emotions like curious predators.

And I didn’t care. Forgetting was easier.

“Up.”

Lila’s hand hooked my wrist, yanking me to my feet before I could argue. Her dark eyes glinted with mischief. “Don’t even start. You’ve been sulking all night. Tonight, you’re mine.”

“Oh, wonderful. Drunk babysitting and cardio,” I muttered, but she dragged me straight into the crush.

The enchanted instruments threaded through my bones, and my hips betrayed me, swaying before I gave them permission.

“Oh, Rhee, look at them.” Lila pressed close, curls bouncing. “We’re making everyone jealous.”

The alcohol burned into recklessness. I spun, catching her hips with a smirk that ached. “Some tragic rebound dance? Nah. This is a mating announcement in progress.”

Someone whistled when she dipped me low, her hair brushing my cheek. Upside down, lanterns spun like stars, and laughter tore out of me jagged but real.

She leaned over, grin wicked. “If only I were into girls.”

I threw my head back. “Too bad, babe. We’d be unstoppable.”

For a few songs, for a few heartbeats, I wasn’t the girl the Moon Goddess overlooked. I was just Rhea—the reckless one, the laughing one, the one who could make a crowd cheer.

But Shadowvine lingered. And when the laughter ebbed, I felt the crash stalking me.

Bree slid a tall glass across the table—turquoise fizzing like bottled starlight. Tiny glowing bubbles spiralled upward and burst against the rim. “Sirensong Spritz,” she said, lips quirking. “Supposed to make you feel like you’re floating.”

Should I?

I really shouldn’t.

…ah, fuck it.

The first sip buzzed through my veins. Crisp, citrus-sweet—and then weightlessness. My toes curled against the moonstone floor, half-expecting to lift off. When I set the glass down, I swore I heard waves inside it, whispering.

“Okay,” I muttered, collapsing into the chair, voice dry to hide the twitch of a smile. “This place might actually be dangerous. We should live here.”

“Oh, I could live here,” Bree murmured, steady as ever. Her gaze caught the hearthlight, warm and grounding. “All the drinks. None of the drama.”

Her calm steadiness tethered me. Even when Nora’s soft laugh carried from the corner, it didn’t pierce like glass. She was curled smaller than usual, Ethan’s arm draped around her shoulders, fresh mate marks glowing faintly near his collar. The sight twisted me, but dulled—maybe that was the Spritz.

Then Lila caught my eye. Soft for three seconds, then sharp again. Mischief lit her face as she jerked her chin toward the back.

“Come on.” She was already sliding out of the booth.

I arched a brow. “What—”

“Girl talk 2.0,” she snapped, grabbing both my hands before I could fight it. “The deep kind. Where Bree can play saint and I can make death threats without an audience.”

Bree smiled faintly. “Or slap you if you keep bottling things up.”

A lounge behind the crimson curtain swallowed us whole.

Noise dimmed. Fire crackled low, runes along the stone hearth pulsing gold with each pop of ember. Overstuffed couches sprawled under furs soft enough my fingers sank in. A chandelier floated overhead, candles shifting flame into constellations that shimmered before breaking apart. Magic pooled in corners, thick and waiting.

Lila shoved me onto the couch, folding cross-legged beside me, sharp-eyed and relentless. Bree perched opposite, posture neat, hands folded with quiet patience.

“Alright.” Lila leaned in, arms crossed, voice cutting. “Spill.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Spill what?”

“Don’t be cute.” Her thumb brushed mine even as her tone snapped. “I saw your face when Ethan and Nora walked in. And I saw you throw back four cocktails like you were auditioning for a Drakonis bonfire.”

Bree tilted her head, calm but unyielding. “We’re here. No judgment. Just us.”

Silence pressed heavy, but not suffocating. Solid—like they’d built a wall around me, daring the world to break through.

Finally, I cracked. “You know when you’ve held onto something so long, you think it’s yours by default? Like if you just love it hard enough, fate will give in?”

Lila’s thumb stroked over my knuckles, uncharacteristically gentle. “Yeah.”

“That was me with Ethan.” The words were scraped out. “For years, I thought… maybe. And when it wasn’t—when it was Nora—it felt like the Moon Goddess was laughing at me. Like I was stupid for hoping in the first place. And the worst part? I can’t even be mad at her—Nora. She’s my best friend. Hating her would be hating myself.”

“Then don’t be mad,” Bree said softly. Her gaze caught mine, steady, calm. “Be sad. Be heartbroken. But don’t make it ugly. You’re allowed to hurt without turning it into war.”

Tears burned hot. Lila yanked me into her arms, grip fierce, murmuring against my hair—steel wrapped in velvet. “We’ve got you. Tonight is for forgetting. Tomorrow can be for remembering.”

The chandelier above flared, flames knitting into a wolf’s silhouette before breaking apart again. The wards in the hearth pulsed faint gold, drinking in my emotions, bottling them away. Magic leaned closer, listening.

And for the first time since everything cracked, I let myself collapse into their arms, into Bree’s quiet steadiness and Lila’s unyielding fire.

For tonight, I wasn’t the girl fate overlooked.

I was just Rhea—still breathing, still here.