Chapter 1
Of all the projects Solara had curated in her life, a gala event was the last thing she imagined managing. She was an investor; everything she did was in the name of growing her coin, building her wealth, and using her dividends for non-profit causes when snooping eyes and ears weren’t watching. The Elysian Ball was not an event her skill set was trained for, but it was the event of the season, where every supernatural creature in Thenaria attended every two years during the phase of the Blue Moon. She only agreed to do it for two reasons: because she had sole control over the fundraising, and because her High Priestess commanded her to.
As High Priestess, her word was law, and there were no exceptions. Solara was deeply dedicated to her, but she hated it when Solara used her status in the Coven to overrule her. Hence, Solara was tasked with this ridiculous project.
“The operations department believes that placing guests of Sablehide, Oak Walkers, and Blackmane next to members of the Rising Raven will be the most optimal arrangement. This half-crescent formation will allow them to converse freely and will place the most profitable and generous of the packs and covens in one place.”
And conveniently, next to the loveliest servers, Solara handpicked herself from the House of Wyseva.
Wyseva was a top donor to Opalite Holdings. In addition to their ample assets, they generously provided their services to her company—for free. As the company’s CEO, how could Solara refuse? With their help, she had a better chance of securing at least one or two Lycan packs to add to her company’s portfolio. They would also benefit from the careful dosage of the Succubus’ amorous pheromones, which would give the House of Wyseva a wealthy clientele. A win-win for everyone all around.
“Excellent work, Cora.” Solara lowered the copy of the seating arrangements on the table, raising her gaze to the twenty other witches seated at the conference table, who all took a visible sigh of relief at her approval. “One thing—”
Everyone tensed in their seats.
“Replace Blackmane with Clan Quillan; we must have the guests somewhat evenly spread out.”
“But clan Blackmane has recently acquired commodities that will be of interest to a number of potential shareholders who will roll in impressive profit margins.”
Solara’s sparkling blue eyes slashed to the witch. Sumina Corell. She’d begun working at Opalite Holdings as an intern two years ago and acquired a lofty temp position in the operations department. Solara selected only the best witches from applications, and she only trusted those who descended from her maiden coven, Sisters of the Sun. She was a young thing, eager, proud, efficient.
Sumina had a direct hand in the seating planning for the Elysian Ball.
The gala was the one event that could elevate a supernatural to the greatest heights of wealth and power imaginable. Wealth and power were the cornerstones of survival in Thenaria. Sumina could see those benefits clearly, and Solara was impressed by that intelligence as it was few and far between, but talent and skill could be offshored for eagerness to earn the approval of a superior.
Solara leaned forward in her chair, pinning Sumina in her place from the end of the conference table.
“Clan Quillan has remained the leading designing and engineering pioneers in Thenaria for over five centuries, with their corporate architecture firm in the net worth of billions. The Blackmane Pack has assets our company may one day invest in, perhaps even acquire. But they are in the infancy of their potential gains, and Opalite Holdings never makes a move of assured failure.”
The young witch shrank in her seat and her mounting eagerness instantly deflated. The rest of the witches around the table waited in tense silence, and a few of them gave comforting glances and soft words of encouragement.
Solara rose, and every witch sitting at the conference table followed. “This meeting is over. Cora, I expect final confirmation on catering, entertainment, and decorations by the end of the business day.”
Cora, her dutiful assistant, nodded before following the rest of their fellow witches out of the conference room.
When the room finally emptied, Solara leaned back in her chair and released an exhausted sigh. Planning this event had taken months, nearly a year, and it was ridiculous that something as simple as a party consumed so much time and attention. But Phoebe Briston—the High Priestess—expected nothing less. She couldn’t wait for everything to return to normal, so she could continue investing in startups and making a profit. To hell with these high society events.
“That was an excellent decision to replace Pack Blackmane with Clan Quillan.”
Solara was not the least bit surprised to hear her High Priestess’s voice. She had sensed the presence of her power in the building exactly ten minutes before the end of the meeting.
“You and I both know that placing Blackmane anywhere near members of the Rising Raven would be disastrous. Alpha Blackmane has set his sights on ruining the Rising Raven. Seeing as our coven is the only one aware of Ulrich’s inner workings, and vice versa, Blackmane won’t have the chance to bleed an ounce of evidence to back up their brazen audacity.” Solara walked around the table, meeting her mother where she stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Opalite Holdings was the tallest building in Thenaria; it rose leagues above every other skyscraper like a piercing sword. A design Solara purposefully chose to embody.
The High Priestess smiled, “That, compared with the Alpha of Pack Blackmane being a seething drunk, they have no wiggle room to use information worth anything against anyone.”
Their credibility was shot. Alpha Blackmane had picked up his drinking habits some three and a half centuries ago; his reputation was practically on the floor before the drinking. He was known for a multitude of debauchery and so many infractions that he was banned from all services offered by the House of Wyseva.
Matron Sharraya did not treat misbehavior and lack of self-control lightly when it came to her women and men, and Solara would not subject them to any form of degradation.
“Blackmane is unreliable. He wouldn’t make a good business partner now, nor will he in the future. Best to keep him as far away as possible from our coven’s wealth.”
Fingers gently wrapped around her hand, guiding her gaze away from the window overlooking the city to the woman who stood beside her. Her High Priestess smiled, “Hello, daughter.”
Solara smiled in return, “Hello, mother.”
“You have done an excellent job at handling this event. I know this is far beyond anything that you’d willingly take on. But I must say that I am impressed.”
It was a compliment, but Solara wasn’t naive.
“But…” Solara offered.
“I see that you have placed the Sisters of the Moon the farthest from their sister covens, and nearest to the Supreme. Why would you do such a thing?”
Solara noted the disappointment in her mother’s eyes. To anyone else, they would have believed that her mother’s disapproval stemmed from the clear path that Solara had given to the Sisters of the Moon. Allowing them complete control to cozy up to the Supreme and get into his good graces. But that was not her mother’s concern. Not in the least.
Solara sighed, “You must be careful when you are near him, mother. I understand the bond is alluring, but the law cannot be broken even for you.”
“It is more than alluring,” her mother snapped. Solara didn’t recoil from the anger; it was a natural reaction as a result of her mother’s forged bond. She’d been privy to many who fell asunder to that furious wrath. “You know well the strength of our bond has only grown stronger over the centuries and has only become more unbearable because of our time apart from one another.”
Solara pleaded, “Please do not ask me to bend the rules. The law is clear.”
The Sacred Law.
Enacted centuries ago, after the end of the Affliction. War ruined and destroyed the lands within and beyond Thenaria. Millions of lives were lost, and only when the Affliction came to an end did their world know peace once more. The Supreme himself stopped the war, and it was he who made the decree forbidding the forging of mate bonds and all offspring born from the outlawed unions. Breaking the law meant facing the most unimaginable punishment, and Solara would not stand to lose her mother to it.
She released Solara’s hand, quickly becoming overwhelmed with emotion. Her mother knew she couldn’t go against the Supreme's rule. But her heart lay bleeding.
Her mother’s soft voice whispered brokenly, “It has been so long.”
“It has only been six months. Eldridge will certainly find a way to make time once he lays eyes on you at the event,” Solara told her.
Her mother sent her an uncomfortable gaze, “Must you call him that? He is your father.”
A fact that Solara had been reminded of every day of the first century of her life. Eldridge Magnus was the High Priest of the Sisters of the Moon. He has led his coven for the last two and a half millennia, alongside his wife Luciana Magnus. With his three other daughters under his wing, his attentions were stretched thin. Paper-thin when his wife was studying his every step like a rabid dog whenever he and Solara’s mother were in the same room together. Her mother led the Sisters of the Sun for nearly as long, though both were older—much older—than the time they spent in their respective roles. They’d thankfully avoided punishment under the Sacred Law long before it was in place but barely avoided it when they conceived her brother. The temptation, it’s natural calling, was dangerous.
Too dangerous.
Solara smiled humorlessly, “It’s best I keep the formalities. We wouldn’t want my dear stepmother getting any new ideas on ways to persecute me.”
At the mention of Luciana Magnus’ vendetta, the fire that raged behind her mother’s eyes burned. The only thing in this world that her mother loved more than Eldridge was her children. Luciana Magnus had made it her personal vendetta to destroy the Briston children in whatever manner she could. For the first century of her life, Solara was sheltered from the world while Luciana attempted to thrust her identity into the spotlight. It was unheard of for coven heads to have children outside of their marriages, let alone through a forged bond. But Solara and her brother were born before Luciana and Eldridge had ever married.
Even after all these years, Luciana was still infuriated.
"Should she lay a hand on you or your brother, she'll have far worse than hell at her doors."
Rage seethed like a fresh flame out of the forge. Her mother's power burned like the sun, hot, bright, and endless. Should Luciana test her limits again, Solara knew her mother would eviscerate her.
"Thankfully, I'm more than capable of handling Luciana on my own. Calder phoned me this morning; he's reserved a table for brunch at the Diamond Table. The car's waiting for you downstairs."
It was a quick diversion, but one that Solara always had to have prepared when her mother made an appearance at her work. As much as she loved her mother, her protectiveness was appreciated but overbearing.
Solara was no longer a little girl. She was a grown woman who could fight her own battles.
Fortunately, her mother took the bait. Her eyes brightened at the mention of her second child and Solara's younger brother, Calder. The bond between her mother and her brother was the greatest source of light in Solara's life; she loved that they had such a close connection. They were so similar in personality, and their powers were nearly identical, whereas Solara, unfortunately, took after their father in that regard.
Her mother smiled, "Oh, my sweet boy. Always so thoughtful, we must do something for him in return one of these days."
He'll appreciate a night of full service from the House of Wyseva once I've texted him, Solara thought.
Which is exactly what she did once she led her mother into the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, her fingers were gracefully gliding across the screen of her smartphone.
A car will be outside your apartment in ten minutes.
Be ready.
Less than thirty seconds passed before messages came flying across her screen.
What? Why are you sending a car?
Do I have an appointment?
I don't have anything marked on my calendar.
I've got plans later tonight.
Solara rolled her eyes. Her fingers tapped the screen again.
You'll have plenty of time to party tonight.
Brunch at the Diamond Table in half an hour.
And take a damn shower.
Only a second passed before her brother responded. A single smiling emoji with a wink.
Her eyes closed on an annoyed sigh, though there was the barest hint of a smile spreading her lips. Solara was used to her brother's antics. He'd spend the nights partying and dancing throughout the week, out until dawn, sleeping till noon, or perhaps not sleeping at all and sliding off to another wildly salacious adventure. Though he practically drowned himself in nightlife, he was the most reliable person in Solara's life. They only needed a few words, and they knew exactly what they needed from each other. It was just simply how their relationship was. He was her best friend.
And right now, her best friend knew she needed him to distract their mother so she could work.
Solara walked into her office and moved straight toward her desk. It was her favorite piece in the room: a large cream-and-gold marble tabletop, overlaid with the most expensive wood money could buy, and crafted in a modern style—a custom design. Money she proudly spent.
A notification dinged from her work computer. The desktop brightened as the email application launched and opened a new window. Solara straightened in her desk chair and read along the line of a new email. Then her hand nearly cracked her mouse in two as she read the subject line. The mouse scratched across the marble to open the message with a stabbing click.
Subject: Request of the Supreme
Hand of Thenaria <[email protected]>
Ms. Briston,
As the host and planning manager of the Elysian Ball, I am writing to inform you that the Supreme's schedule has changed, and the gala’s set date will conflict with his duties. At the Supreme's request, arrangements will need to be made to accommodate his attendance—or absence. A confirmation email is necessary before the end of the business day.
Saku Shozo
Hand of Thenaria
Government of the Supreme
His attendance or absence? It was written as though there was a possibility of the Supreme being delayed, but Solara read between the lines. The decision had clearly already been made, yet they presented it to her as if she could work around this event. An event that has been months in the making, with advance notice having already been sent and dates solidified. Did they think she was stupid?
There was barely a week before this gala was to take place. It was impossible to delay, and there wasn't a chance in the world that the Supreme didn't know that. The Supreme attended every Elysian Ball. Every. Single. One.
But he was going to skip this one.
Without the Supreme's attendance, Solara would become a laughingstock in front of every supernatural powerhouse of elite society in Thenaria.
Luciana would love this.
But Solara wasn't one to let flames die. She ignited more.
Solara pressed the intercom.
Cora's voice filtered through, "Yes, Ms. Briston."
"Cancel my meetings for the day and make sure no one comes into my office for the next four hours."
"Of course, ma'am. I have the direct phone line prepared when you're ready."
Solara smiled slyly, "Excellent, Cora. Let's whip these dogs into shape."
