CHAPTER 88: CLAD IN ONYX

An onyx gem made into a dress was the best way to describe it—so dark it seemed to swallow all light, only to expel the rays in refracted shards that shimmered like fractured midnight.

Each movement turned her into a living prism of shadow, the fabric catching faint hints of silver and violet, as though moonlight had been trapped in the seams and forced to leak out in reluctant glimmers. It clung to her like a second skin, sculpting her waist, tracing her hips, whispering along her legs with a predator’s confidence. The hem flowed behind her in a slow, liquid ripple—less cloth, more molten night.

No ordinary dress would have dared to adorn her.

This one obeyed her.

This one bowed to her.

And every soul who saw her could tell: she wore darkness not as a garment, but as a crown.

She strode down the stairs, back straight with tension, her curls held up in an elegant tangle and adorned with dark pearls. Two wavy strands framed her face.

The incessant tugging morphed into a yank as she stepped down from the last stair. She held my stare, eyes shadowed with color that made the gold in her gaze glint and gleam—an extension of the dress that clung to her form like a possessive lover.

Her redolent earthy scent had been tempered with something floral.

She reached my side and smiled up at me, nervous. "I am ready," she announced.

This was one of those rare moments where I was not sure I could say the same.

"Turn around," I said, my voice rougher than intended.

She obeyed, her dress swaying with her as she gave me her back. A servant handed me the mask of a swan.

I brought it over her eyes and knotted it.

My knuckles brushed over her nape and a shiver ran through her.

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🌙𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐡

The Onyx Concord was the venue, I realized as we pulled into the lot. I swallowed thickly as the car came to a halt. The AC had been on but sweat still beaded my forehead.

What if my makeup was melting off—

I would stand behind him like a shield. It was the only way I would survive the night—

A snap pulled me back from my thoughts. My eyes found Vladimir. He looked like he had been trying to get my attention for a minute.

I managed a shaky smile. "Sorry, I got carried away." The high bun was suddenly a pound heavier as his pale eyes through the silver wolf mask searched mine for something unknown.

"Lili." His voice was a tad husky.

Goosebumps rose all over my skin, his voice a caress that set my nerves aflame. The proximity made things harder, greedily stealing the air from my lungs.

"You are safe with me."

He said it like a vow, a quiet pledge meant for my ears alone.

"No matter what happens in there, you walk beside me. Not behind."

My breath hitched as he seemed to read my mind, like he knew that I would hide away. He wanted me by his side like I was some equal. The realization eased something tight in my chest.

I had wanted to believe that he would be ashamed of me in a way, like he was doing this out of obligation. But the way he looked at me now—steady, certain, unwavering—it filled me with something dangerous.

Hope.

Before I could respond, he was already moving. The door opened with a soft click, and Vladimir stepped out first, the winter air rushing in to replace the warmth. Then he turned back, one hand extended toward me.

His palm was open. Waiting.

For a heartbeat, I just stared at it. At the elegant fingers that had cradled my face in the hallway, that had held me together when I was breaking. At the faint scars across his knuckles, evidence of battles fought and won.

I placed my hand in his.

His fingers closed around mine, firm and cool, and he helped me out of the car with a gentleness that seemed impossible from the Ice King. The moment my feet touched the ground, the dress settled around me like liquid shadow, the hem pooling briefly before I straightened.

Vladimir didn’t let go of my hand.

Instead, he guided it to the crook of his arm, his other hand coming to rest over mine where it lay against his sleeve. The gesture was possessive and protective all at once, and I felt the bond hum contentedly between us, as though this—this simple act of standing together—was what it had been craving all along.

Dmitri appeared beside us, his dark suit immaculate, his expression carefully neutral. But I caught the slight nod he gave Vladimir, some silent communication passing between them that I couldn’t quite decipher.

"Ready?" Dmitri asked, though the question seemed directed more at Vladimir than at me.

Vladimir’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Yes."

Then Dmitri’s gaze shifted to me, and for just a moment, something almost like approval flickered in his eyes. "You look like you belong here," he said quietly. "Don’t let them make you think otherwise."

Before I could process that unexpected kindness, he turned and began walking toward the entrance, taking point as though he were leading us into battle rather than a ball.

Vladimir leaned down slightly, his breath ghosting against my ear.

"Keep your head high," he murmured. "Meet their gazes."

I nodded, curling my arm tighter into his. I lifted my head and straightened my back and we walked in.

The knot of nerves in my stomach was still there, tangible as ever, as we stepped into the dimly lit decorated hall. Chatter and soft music wove through the luxuriously crowded space.

Attires gleamed and glowed, reflecting even the low light. All their faces were concealed in masks of different variants and opulent colors.

In an instant, my heart stuttered to a halt as bright lights blinded me. The chatter stopped instantly, as if someone had commanded it.

I lifted my head higher and prayed to whatever god or entity had kept me alive to this point.

Please let me be doing this right.

A charismatic voice interrupted the quiet. "Now arriving is the man of the hour himself, four-time voted High Alpha Vladimir Dragunov and his lovely fiancée, Lilith Brooks."

The entire hall burst into thunderous applause. Beneath it, I could hear the softer murmur of praise.

The sound was overwhelming, like standing in the heart of a storm, as the lights slowly dimmed above us.

The clapping died away as we moved fluidly through the parting crowds, and the murmuring started, bringing with it a prickling down my stiff spine.

They were all watching.

They were all watching me.