Chapter 5 CHAPTER FIVE

ELLA

“Change your dress, Ella. Fix your hair. And for once in your life, try not to embarrass us,” Mother snapped as she swept through the corridor like a storm herself, her auburn hair gleaming and her silk skirts whispering sharply against the marble floors.

I barely had time to nod before she was gone again, barking orders at servants left and right. Silverthorn Manor had erupted into controlled chaos in the span of twenty minutes. Maids rushed past me carrying trays of fresh pastries and crystal glasses, footmen adjusted flower arrangements, and someone was frantically polishing the already spotless silverware.

Mira had already been whisked away to change. When I finally caught up to the main receiving hall, she was emerging from one of the side rooms in a deep emerald gown. It was elegant and perfectly fitted, her hair repinned into a graceful updo that made her pointed ears catch the light like polished marble. 

I, on the other hand, was still in my garden-stained day dress, hair slightly messy, rushing in among the servants carrying extra cushions and a tray of chilled wine.

The truth will be out soon.

The thought kept repeating in my head like a warning bell. No matter how well I had sabotaged that dinner, no matter how pervy, greedy, and chaotic I had been… Damon was here. In our home. And the moment he saw the real Mira standing beside me, he would realize the girl who had spilled wine, propositioned him, and called his court’s food “rustic” was not the same person.

What do I do now?

I set the tray down on a side table with trembling hands and tried to fade into the background near a large potted fern. My bracelet felt warm against my wrist, a small comfort against the heavy pressure of what was about to happen.

The moment I stepped fully into the room, my stomach dropped.

Damon Vale stood near the tall windows, wings half-folded behind him, looking even more imposing than he had in Stormhold. The afternoon light caught the faint electric-blue veins in his dark wings, making them shimmer. He wore formal black with silver accents that screamed quiet power rather than ostentation. His presence seemed to pull the air toward him, charging it with that familiar crackling energy.

Mother was already fluttering around him, all charm and calculated grace. “Your Highness, we are truly honored by this unexpected visit. Mira has been so looking forward to seeing you again.”

My stepfather, Lord Harlan Kane stood near Mother with his usual measured dignity…tall, impeccably dressed in deep navy with silver threading. He had always been the steady, calculating one, the one who understood exactly how fragile their position in Silk society was.

Mira stood a few steps away from me, pale and rigid, doing her best to maintain a composed smile.

Damon turned slowly at Mother’s words.

His eyes landed first on Mira then they shifted to me.

For one terrifying heartbeat, our gazes locked. Recognition flashed across his face… sharp and unmistakable. 

His expression didn’t change much but he knew.

He knew I wasn’t Mira.

My throat went dry. My bracelet grew hotter against my skin as if reacting to the sudden spike of Storms magic in the room.

Mother continued speaking, oblivious, gesturing proudly toward Mira. “As you can see, my daughter is the picture of grace and refinement. Exactly what one would expect from a union between our families.”

Mira’s hand trembled slightly at her side. She glanced at me, eyes wide with panic.

Damon took one slow step forward, his gaze still pinned on me even as he addressed my mother.

“Indeed,” he said, voice low and smooth, carrying that dangerous undercurrent of thunder. “Though I must admit… I find myself more intrigued by the other young lady present.”

The entire room seemed to freeze.

Mother’s smile faltered. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness?”

But Damon wasn’t looking at her.

He was looking straight at me.

And the tiny, dangerous curve at the corner of his mouth told me everything I needed to know.

My stomach plummeted.

Mother’s perfectly composed smile faltered for the first time, confusion flickering across her elegant features as she glanced between Damon and me.

“I… I’m afraid I don’t understand, Your Highness,” she said, her voice still polished but now edged with uncertainty. She gestured gracefully toward Mira. “This is my daughter, Mira Kane. The one who attended the dinner at Stormhold. Surely there’s been some misunderstanding

Damon ignored her

“I want the young lady who was sent to me,” he said. “The one who sat across from me at dinner in Stormhold.”

He took one slow step forward, wings shifting with a soft rustle, then turned to face me directly.

Mother’s mouth opened, then closed. Pure confusion twisted her features as she stared at me, then back at Damon. “Your Highness, there must be some mistake. She is… she’s not—” She let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “She wasn’t the one sent to represent our family. That was Mira.”

My stepfather’s eyes moved to me for the first time since I had entered the room.

Mira had gone the particular shade of pale that meant she was holding something in by extraordinary effort.

Damon was still looking at me.

Steady, Ellie.

The words felt mocking now.

“Your name,” he said, directly to me.

“I don’t believe we were properly introduced.”

The room was waiting.

My mother was waiting. My stepfather was waiting. Mira was waiting with her hands clasped so tightly in front of her that her knuckles had gone white.

Everyone was waiting for me to speak.

I opened my mouth.

Rule four: Never let them see you rattled.

“Ella,” I said. My voice came out evenly. A small miracle. “Ella Kane.”

The Kane was technically accurate. My mother had given me the family name out of social necessity rather than sentiment…a nameless half fae daughter was a more complicated embarrassment than one with a respectable surname attached.

Damon held my gaze for a moment that lasted considerably longer than was comfortable.

“Ella,” he repeated.

“Your Highness.” My mother stepped forward. The particular movement of someone inserting themselves into a situation with the smooth urgency of someone who had been managing situations their entire life. Her voice had recovered its composure. Mostly. “I must apologize for whatever confusion has arisen. Ella is my— she is part of our household, yes, but she is not… she was not the intended representative at your courtship meeting. There has clearly been some misunderstanding and I want to assure you that Mira is—”

“There is no misunderstanding.”

My mother stopped.

Damon had not raised his voice. The words simply landed with the particular weight of someone who was not accustomed to being spoken over and had no intention of starting now.

“The girl who attended the dinner at Stormhold,” he said, calmly, “is the girl standing in front of me now. That is not a misunderstanding. That is a fact.”

The silence that followed was enormous.

I watched my mother’s face do something I had never seen it do before. Cycle through confusion, arrive at understanding, and then proceed directly into something considerably more complicated. Her eyes moved to me with the complete focused attention she so rarely aimed in my direction.

She was looking at me the way you looked at something you had underestimated and were now rapidly recalculating.

My stepfather had not moved from his position. But his expression had shifted into something cold and deliberate. He was looking at Mira now. Then at me. 

“Ella.” My mother’s voice was very controlled. “Is this true?”

Every person in the room was looking at me.

Mira looked like she might faint. Her eyes met mine… wide, desperate and pleading. I could see the terror there, not just for herself but for the secret growing inside her. The baby. Ronnie. Everything she had risked.

I straightened my spine.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s true. I attended the courtship dinner at Stormhold. In Mira’s place.”

The room exploded.

My mother’s composure fractured in a way I had never witnessed in twenty two years of living in her periphery. My stepfather said Mira’s name in a tone that made her flinch slightly. 

Mother let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh that bordered on hysteria. “You…you foolish, ungrateful girl. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? The damage you’ve caused to this family’s reputation? To our future?”

She turned back to Damon, her expression shifting rapidly into desperate damage control. “Your Highness, please. This is all a terrible misunderstanding. Ella is… she is not suitable. She was never meant to represent us... she is half fae. Her parentage is complicated. Surely for an arrangement of this significance you would want—”

“Lady Kane .”

My mother stopped.

“I am aware of what she is,” Damon said. “And my answer remains the same. Ella is who I want. She is who I came for. And I will be leaving with her today.”

The receiving hall stopped breathing.

“Ella.”

His voice was directed at me.

I looked at him.

Those storm grey eyes. That expression that gave nothing away and somehow communicated everything anyway. “Pack what you need,” he said simply .

Like it was already decided.

Because apparently it was.

“We leave within the hour.”