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The Last Spell 38.1

by SilverNight


It felt surreal to watch the party from a distance. On the balcony at the top of a staircase, Shane watched the swirling movement of the guests below, standing on full display and yet being invisible to them all. None of them looked up at him or seemed to know he was there, but somehow, Shane still felt like he was among them, somewhere between being surrounded and alone.

He didn’t want to be in a crowd, struggling who to figure out who to talk to. Here, he could keep a safe distance—and conduct surveillance.

Shane watched as Mireya and Dawn scurried off in a sudden hurry, exiting through a side door that led to the courtyard he’d made a quick stop at the moment he’d gotten here. Maybe they’d found a lead—he’d have to watch that direction from now on. Closer up, Leilan and Kasumi were trapped in a painful-looking conversation with Casper Bridger that had been going on for several minutes already. Shane was glad he wasn’t part of that.

It was hard to believe Cyrin’s successful, but much less likeable brother was here, and they weren’t.

Despite the plan swimming through his head now, Shane didn’t know if he could make this right.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and Shane flinched, turning around. He hadn’t been watching his back. Now, he wouldn’t be able to watch the ballroom.

“Glad to see you’ve finally made it,” Flint said, in a voice heavy with disappointment.

Shane resisted the urge to sigh, instead standing tall and meeting his uncle’s hard stare. So, this was where he got grounded. Or whatever the equivalent was for an Heir.

“We always planned to attend,” he said evenly.

Flint raised an eyebrow. “You and your colleagues have been missing in action for a week now. Forgive me for doubting your dutifulness.”

“You knew where we were the whole time,” Shane reminded him. “We were hardly missing.”

Flint huffed, without an ounce of humor in the sound. “Apologies. You were runaways we watched attentively with disappointment and scorn. Is that more accurate?”

Shane set his mouth into a hard line. “The best choice isn’t always the most orthodox choice, Uncle Flint.”

“That may be,” Flint said flatly. “But I’m having trouble seeing a rational train of thought that leads between noticing a delicate security issue and deciding— as a team with symbolic power, not executive power— to charge headfirst into ‘solving’ it. What delusion infected the five of you?”

Shane snuck a glance out of the corner of his eye before deciding to turn around and face the balcony again. He couldn’t escape this conversation, but he couldn’t afford to let his guard down while he was on watch. Not when the stakes were so high.

“Sorry for not caving to your will this time,” he muttered, gripping his fingers around the balcony railing.

There was a beat of silence. Then a scoff from Flint. “That is your job.

“No, it’s not,” Shane said, in a quiet but firm voice. “There are different ways of being your Heir—some which look like being a trustee allowed some degree of autonomy, and some which look like a delegate acting out your wishes. But nowhere in the job description does it say I have to let you walk all over me in all aspects of my life.”

Flint stepped to stand at his left, a sharp look in his dark eyes. However armored Shane had tried to make his heart in the last few years, it wasn’t strong enough for this. Not on a day when he was already dangerously fragile. Not when it was family he had to stand against.

“I put you on top of the world,” Flint said darkly.

“And you ignored everything I said about how I didn’t ever want to be there,” Shane retorted. “You wanted me to be Heir, and I think I know why. How does it feel to have the person you picked because you were sure you could control them start making their own choices?”

“Is that what you think is happening?” Flint asked pityingly. “That your little lapse in judgment is an act of brave rebellion? You’ll be put back in your place soon, Shane.”

“If I am, I’ll be glad I did this first,” Shane said evenly.

Flint shook his head with a marveling look. “Where did you get the audacity?”

“This isn’t coming out of nowhere.” Shane clenched his jaw. “You’ve just been banking on me not having the courage to speak up.”

“A reasonable bet,” Flint said bluntly. “You’ve never been able to uphold the fundamental value of this House. You cower where you should stand tall. When anyone looks at you, they don’t see the son of your mother. Just a boy with neither the strength nor the merit to bear a crown.”

Shane stiffened, holding back a flinch. It was too soon for this. His parents’ murderer could already be within these walls, and he was the one with the best shot at stopping him. Yet here he was, burning precious time and just getting himself hurt.

“Feel free to think of me as spineless,” he said quietly. “But at least I’m the one with a heart between my lungs.”

“And that,” Flint said, “is your problem. You never quite managed to kill it.”

Shane was about to answer when he caught the sight of a familiar uniform moving through the crowd below, and he froze. He hadn’t seen her since their first day in Crystal City, which felt like a lifetime ago, but it was undoubtedly her. Favia, their bodyguard who had been the one to tell them about the First Spell’s discovery, was walking among the guests with purpose. Her gaze was narrowed as her head turned from side to side, clearly on the lookout for something of interest.

His first reaction was one of relief, but it quickly turned to concern. It was good to see her again: she’d been missing, and in the Arcade of all places, after all. But it didn’t sit right with him that she was here. How come she’d never reported back? Why hadn’t he been notified of her rescue? What was she doing here, at this event she wasn’t supposed to attend?

He was supposed to watch the ballroom and investigate anything suspicious. Shane wasn’t expecting it to appear in this form, but…

Duty called. And at the moment, this duty was more important than whatever he owed Flint.

Shane steeled himself as he grabbed Flint by the forearm, meeting his eyes seriously. His uncle could’ve easily ripped his arm out of his grasp, but didn’t try, instead looking at him with his usual intensity.

“Listen to me,” he said lowly. “You should get out of here. I don’t think it’s safe. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Flint raised an eyebrow. “What’s the danger?”

“I can’t explain.”

Favia was getting farther away by the second. Shane had to follow after her, but he needed to get through to his uncle first. If Sparrow held some grudge against Shane and his parents, it wasn’t unreasonable to assume he wished Flint harm too.

Flint let out another scoff. “Fearmongering is a cheap way to get out of a confrontation, boy.”

“I’m not bluffing,” Shane said, more desperately. “I just— I can’t tell you any more than that. Just leave the party. Put some distance between yourself and here. Please.”

Flint narrowed his eyes. “Have you created a threat? What are you planning?”

“Nothing. I’m trying to stop—” Shane cut himself off, shaking his head. He couldn’t jeopardize their plan. If Flint sounded the alarm, it would likely hurt his team more than Sparrow.

But he couldn’t let something happen to the last of his close family members. No matter how strained their bond was.

“Just get out of here,” Shane repeated, letting go of Flint’s arm and hurrying off the balcony.

“Shane!” Flint snapped, calling after him, but Shane didn’t listen as he ran down the stairs and pushed his way through the crowd below.

Favia was clearly still focused on her search, but when she heard his rushed footsteps, she turned around with a frown. When she saw him, her eyes went wide, and Shane realized she must have been looking for him or another Heir.

“Where have you been?” Shane exclaimed, standing in front of her, but he’d hardly come to a stop before she’d grabbed his shoulder and started pulling him through the crowd. “Woah—”

“There’s no time. You’re in danger, and you need to come with me,” Favia ordered, leading him towards a door leading out of the ballroom. “It’s urgent.”

“I know, I know,” Shane said, trying to wriggle free so he could walk with her instead of being dragged behind her, but her grip didn’t loosen. “How’d you get out of the Arcade?”

“Long story,” Favia said simply, pulling him through the door and into a hallway empty of guests. She didn’t stop, guiding him toward a spiral staircase that went upwards.

“I think I should know,” Shane pressed. “You disappeared with no warning, in the middle of a call, and suddenly you’re here. How? Why?”

Favia didn’t look back at him as she pulled him up the stairs. “Irrelevant.”

“It’s really not,” Shane muttered.

“What is important,” she continued, as they reached the second floor, “is that we get you away from this event. Something’s wrong.”

Well, something was wrong. But the way she was acting made him uneasy— and his suspicion turned into alarm bells ringing in his head when she skipped the floor and led him up the next flight of stairs.

If she was worried about a threat to him here, the solution would be to get him out of the building, promptly. But Shane was familiar with the building, and he knew that the exits out of the palace were only on the first and second floors. The third floor was an extensive library, and the fourth floor was completely inaccessible, with its only access point being a magically sealed door that nothing had managed to open since Summer’s death.

He was being led into a dead end.

Shane’s mouth went dry.

“Let me go,” he murmured.

Favia didn’t slow, or release her vise-like grip on him. In fact, her fingers only tightened on his shoulder, and she marched on determinedly.

“I said, let me go,” Shane repeated more loudly, tugging back and grabbing at her hand to pry himself loose.

He didn’t have time to defend himself. His back slammed into the stone wall, and just as Shane gasped for air, winded, something cold pressed against his neck. He swallowed, and he felt a prick of something sharp from the slight movement.

Favia was holding a knife to his throat. Her eyes held no malice, only cold, blank indifference, when she looked back at him.

“Scream, and you’ll lose your vocal chords,” she said plainly.

Shane thought his heart might be beating loud enough for the people one and a half floors below to hear anyway.

“You’re one of Sparrow’s,” he said quietly.

“And you’re supposed to be dead,” Favia said. “But don’t worry. He’ll fix that.”

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Sat Nov 02, 2024 12:54 am
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Wolfi wrote a review...



Hey Silver! Wolfi here for a review! I don't believe I've had a chance to read any other part of this novel before, so of course take the following review with a generous pinch of salt! :)

Shane still felt like he was among them, somewhere between being surrounded and alone.

Lovely little sentence right there

It was hard to believe Cyrin’s successful, but much less likeable brother was here, and they weren’t.

I read that as "It was hard to believe Cyrin was successful" at first, so you might want to play with the punctuation a bit, like: "It was hard to believe Cyrin's successful (but much less likeable) brother was here..."

A hand landed on his shoulder, and Shane flinched, turning around. He hadn’t been watching his back. Now, he wouldn’t be able to watch the ballroom.

Before Shane experiences reluctance that he can't watch the ballroom anymore, it makes more sense to me that he processes who is behind him, even if it's quick. Then, during their interaction, there can be a line thrown in there where Shane is feeling impatient and anxious about potentially missing something important down below. (Which, as I read on, you do with the "Shane snuck a glance out of the corner of his eye..." line - well done!)

“That may be,” Flint said flatly. “But I’m having trouble seeing a rational train of thought that leads between noticing a delicate security issue and deciding— as a team with symbolic power, not executive power— to charge headfirst into ‘solving’ it. What delusion infected the five of you?”

You have great skill in writing dialogue that feels natural and flows well!

“No, it’s not,” Shane said, in a quiet but firm voice. “There’s different ways of being your Heir

Should be "there're"!

"But nowhere in the job description does it say I have to let you walk all over me in all aspects of my life.”

You tell 'im, Shane!

Flint stepped to stand at his life, a sharp look in his dark eyes.

"Left", maybe?

However armored Shane had tried to make his heart in the last few years, it wasn’t strong enough for this.

Beautiful sentence!

How does it feel to have the person you picked because you were sure you could control them start making their own choices?”

Daaang! I just met these characters and this conversation already has me on the edge of my seat. May I suggest reworking this sentence, though, for clarity: "How does it feel to pick a person you were sure you could control, only to see them make all their own choices?"

Shane stiffened, holding back a flinch. It was too soon for this. His parents’ murderer could already be within these walls, and he was the one with the best shot at stopping him. Yet here he was, burning precious time and just getting himself hurt.

Perfect moment to pause the dialogue and see the layers of Shane's inner turmoil, well done! That last sentence has some potential for some fun wordplay with "burning" and the idea of getting hurt... mayhaps something like "Yet here he was, burning precious time and blistering at his Uncle's incendiary remarks all at once."

“And that,” Flint said, “is your problem. You never quite managed to kill it.”

um OUCH?

(this is so good)

But he couldn’t let something happen to the last of his close family members. No matter how strained their bond was.

Excellent demonstration of Shane's integrity and unconditional values!

Well, something was wrong. But the way she was acting made him uneasy— and his suspicion turned into alarm bells ringing in his head when she skipped the floor and led him up the next flight of stairs.

Ugh, the suspense!!

You know, I typically feel pretty darn lost when I read through a random chapter in the Green Room, but this one was written so compellingly and crafted so expertly that despite missing 37 chapters of context I didn't feel confused or frustrated at all! That right there is a testament to your skill as a novelist.

Flint's moral grayness (is that why you named him Flint? hehe) and well established background with the MC made for some gripping dialogue, and pair that with the simultaneous anxiety of missing out on what's going on downstairs - I loved it! And then the rollercoaster of emotions when Favia entered the scene: surprise at her appearance, delight of seeing her again, rising suspicion, dread... totally fabulous!

If I didn't already make this obvious, I had a blast reading this and absolutely intend to come back for more! <3 You're amazing!

Wolfi




Wolfi says...


On second thought, Flint's moral compass seems to be tending more towards black than gray LOL. Guess I was thinking moreso of Shane's relationship with him as a nephew/Heir that makes Flint a not-quite villain, not-quite ally.



SilverNight says...


aaaaaaa thank you so much for the review Wolfi! I LOVED all of your suggestions (seriously they're great and I must use them for edits) and I'm so glad you had a good time reading this!! <3 (Also you're definitely right, much closer to morally black LOL)




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