IRIS

Gasps ripple through the crowd like a sudden gust of wind, sharp and startled, sweeping across the reception hall. The chandeliers tremble slightly, or maybe that’s just me—my vision vibrating as the world tilts under my feet.

I clutch Darian’s arm harder, fingers digging into the fabric of his ceremonial jacket. He doesn’t flinch. His warmth anchors me, but it’s not enough to steady the storm that is roaring to life inside my chest.

The Seer stands at the foot of the dais, her expression carved from stone and moonlight. Behind her, two junior seers bow their heads so deeply their hoods shadow their faces completely. All three of...