Page 144 of Psycho Pack
Twenty-Five
IVY
Itry not to make it too obvious I'm on edge as I follow another attendant through winding marble corridors toward the royal dining hall. The soft swish of my dress and the gentle chime of the beads on my veil echo off the pristine walls.
The attendant pauses before a set of towering white wooden doors. "Are you ready, honored guest?"
No.
I'm not ready at all.
But I nod anyway.
The doors swing open silently, and I have to bite back a gasp. The dining hall is unlike anything I've ever seen. Soaring white columns stretch up into darkness, joined by sheer curtains draped between them that catch the warm glow from hundreds of brass lanterns suspended on delicate chains.
It's like we're dining inside a cloud at sunset.
The table itself is a masterwork of white marble and carved ibises supporting it on their outstretched wings. It stretches the length of the hall, gleaming like still water, reflecting the light from crystal goblets and delicate place settings that put anythingI've seen in Reinmich to shame. White flowers I don't recognize spill from ornate vases, their petals seeming to glow from within.
My heart races as I take hesitant steps into the opulent dining hall. The soft whisper of my dress against the marble floor seems deafening in the hushed silence that's fallen over the room.
All eyes are on me, and I fight the urge to bolt.
Then my alphas all rise in unison to acknowledge me along with the queen, and my fears settle into a nervous fluttering. Their white and gold uniforms are a far cry from their usual battle-worn gear.
Thane catches my eye first, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The crisp white jacket and shirt accentuate his broad shoulders and powerful build. He looks every inch the commanding officer he is. The gold epaulets on his shoulders gleam in the warm light, matching the intensity in his dark eyes as he watches me approach.
Wraith stands rigidly next to his brother, his massive frame somehow even more imposing in a uniform that wasn't made for an alpha quite as tall and muscular as he is. He's kept his white scarf firmly in place, the scars on his cheeks just barely visible over the edge, and I can see the tension radiating off him in waves. His blue eyes find mine, filled with both awe and anxiety.
Beside him, Valek stands with deceptive casualness in his loose posture. The silver scarf he put on earlier is still wrapped around his lower face, matching his eyes. His gaze is unusually warm as he watches me, but that glint of perpetual amusement is still there.
It isn't aimed at me, though.
It rarely is.
It's probably because Whiskey is in a proper uniform.
Whiskey fidgets with his collar, clearly uncomfortable in the formal attire. But he looks striking, even though it's far from his usual taste. The tailored jacket accentuates his bulky build,making him look even stronger than usual. His chestnut hair has been tamed into something resembling order, though a few stubborn strands have gotten loose.
And then there's Plague.
Hamsa.
He stands to the right of the queen, looking more regal than I've ever seen him. His royal uniform fits him perfectly, emphasizing his lean build and sharp angles. A white scarf adorned with delicate gold embroidery covers the lower half of his face, but the conflict warring in his gaze is still clear as day. It softens only when our gazes meet.
The queen's melodic voice breaks the silence. "Welcome, Ivy." She gestures gracefully to an empty high-backed marble chair at the other end of the table, between my alphas. "Please, join us."
I make my way to the indicated seat, hyper-aware of every step, every rustle of fabric. As I settle onto the plush velvet cushion on the impossibly comfortable chair, between Thane and Wraith, the queen's hands move to her veil.
"There's no need for such formality among family," she says, her voice warm as she removes the intricate covering. Her face is lined with age, but there's a timeless beauty to her features. Sharp cheekbones, full lips, and the same intelligent eyes Plague has.
She turns to her son, raising an eyebrow expectantly. He snaps out of whatever trance I've apparently cast over him and reaches up to unwrap his own scarf. He folds it neatly and places it to the left of his place setting.
"Valek, Wraith," the queen continues, her gaze sweeping over my other alphas. "You're welcome to remove your scarves as well. And your veil, dear," she adds, looking at me with a gentle smile.
Valek doesn't hesitate, unwrapping his scarf with a flourish. Everything he does has to be so… flashy. And much to my endless horror, I'm starting to find it charming.
I reach up to my own veil and unclasp it. The cool air hits my face, and I resist the urge to hide in my hair. Apparently, the veil was acting as a shield and keeping me grounded while everyone was staring at me. Without it, I feel strangely vulnerable in this place I certainly don't belong in.