Priceless Miranda Silver Novels & Stories

"I don't advise you to try anything you may regret, My Lily." Now they were there, and she was dreading the leering faces inside. His hateful voice and snarled words gave her enough courage to pause in the doorway, where she could see the blaze of light and hear the deafening clamor of voices. They waited, and she could feel the eyes of those behind them. Arfaat looked as handsome as always in his black and white evening clothes, his black hair reflecting the gleam from flickering gaslamps. Her red silk gown made a dramatic contrast, and that alone would have drawn stares if they had not been who they were.

The warmth of the fire couldn’t soothe the coldness out of her. “He would get hurt,” she whispered. “I’m sick of seeing good people getting hurt.” She placed her hand into the fire. Just like how she was immune to the silver, she was immune to the fire too. It didn’t even burn her skin. Maybe because this meeting wasn’t real. This meeting happened in the back of her mind. This place was the only place she allowed herself to be vulnerable because there was no repercussion for her vulnerability here. In the real world, Mira couldn’t afford a second of vulnerability because it could cost a greater price—a price she could never settle.

The black suit draped perfectly over his still-straight frame, and his sharp gaze cut right through me… just like his son’s. Beside him stood Miranda Romano, elegant and cold in a midnight-blue satin gown. A sapphire necklace gleamed at her throat, like treasure stolen from the sea. Her smile was thin, deliberate, polished by years of holding secrets. Zane’s parents. For half a second, my lungs forgot how to work. I forced myself to square my shoulders. “Encantada.” Miranda brushed her cheek against mine, brief, her eyes scanning me as though measuring whether I belonged in the same air as her.

Then— an explosion erupted across the eastern ridge. Silver fire burst into the sky. Council soldiers were thrown backward violently. Everyone turned sharply. A woman stood in the center of the destruction. Dark braided hair. Nightfall leathers. Silver resonance crackling uncontrollably around her arms. Lucien recognized her instantly. “…Mira.” Mira Vale looked down at her glowing hands in horror. “I didn’t do that…” But the resonance around her intensified anyway. Seraphine froze beside Althea. For the first time since arriving at Nightfall—

I would start with this one, single, perfect moment of peace. I had just set the mug down when the bell chimed again, a more insistent, cheerful jingle this time. A woman came in, shaking water from a bright yellow umbrella that clashed wonderfully with her crimson coat. She moved with a purpose that seemed to bend the space around her, her heels clicking a sharp, decisive rhythm on the tiled floor. Her hair was a sleek, silver bob, and she wore glasses perched on the end of her nose, behind which keen, intelligent eyes scanned the room. They landed on me. For a heartbeat, I felt a jolt, a primal fear that she knew, that she was one of them. But her gaze was just assessing, not recognizing.

“You’ve got nothing to discuss here, get out. Leave now.” Miranda tilted her head, eyes sharp, like a predator sizing up her prey. “I’m not leaving until I’ve made my point clear,” she said, voice low and dangerous. Izzy’s breath caught in her throat. She looked between Maya and Miranda, panic and determination warring inside her. “I suspected this the moment I heard about your little hospital trip,” Miranda said, stepping closer, eyes narrowed and cold. “When I got the call to confirm my suspicion… I laughed. Truly, Ms. Hart… what a whore you are.”

He asked, this bastard! I took the second glass again, I made to drink from it, but someone snatched it away from me. I turned backwards, only to see Miranda emptying the glass of drink inside her mouth. She belched after she was done, then she kept the glass back on the table. "Hi I'm Miranda Grande, his personal assistant. I'd appreciate if we leave now, since it's almost midnight, we have duties to carry out tomorrow," Miranda said surprising everyone. By now I was already seeing double. Mr vision was becoming blurry.

Ignoring the boredom comment, I answered the important part. “Amelia.” It felt strange calling her that, but she was right. We needed to act more familiar. “Who’s Amelia?” Noah asked. Carter’s expression was pure disapproval. Hamilton looked curious. “Mrs. Nichols,” I told Noah. “Who?” I rolled my eyes. “My assistant, idiot.” “Jesus, Ry,” Carter said. “That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen. You’re supposed to expand the business, not bankrupt us.” “I know. But she agreed.”

Rumors are currency at Blackridge, and lately, my balance has been running low. I weave through the crowd, holding a glass of sparkling cider I have no intention of drinking. Everyone is watching everyone, scanning for weakness, for stories to trade. I keep my chin high, my eyes steady, like none of it touches me. But every laugh, every whisper feels like a hook snagging my skin. Then it happens. “Eva Sinclair,” a voice drawls from behind me. When I turn, the queen bee herself, Miranda Blake, is standing there in a gown that probably cost more than my old apartment’s rent. Her smile is razor sharp. “Funny name, don’t you think?”