Bridges Burned (Entangled Teen) (Going Down in Flames) (20 page)

Bryn climbed the half flight of stairs and came to a small room with a pitched ceiling. Her breath caught in her throat. Pictures of her parents when they were still in school were tacked onto a makeshift bulletin board. She crossed the space and traced her fingers over the photos of her dad smiling with such love she had no doubt it was her mom taking the picture, and photos of her mom grinning like she was the happiest woman in the world. Under the photos there was a stack of books. Bryn picked one up and recognized them as part of the Legends series from the library, about a time when dragons could fall in love and marry without Directorate interference.

She opened the top book, unpinned the pictures, and carefully slid the photos between the pages to keep them safe. A piece of paper fell out of the book. She picked it up and saw a familiar circle divided into four sections, each section containing a triangle…the symbol for rebellion. She flipped through the pages in the remaining books, hoping to find more notes. But there was nothing. Had her mother drawn the symbol because she’d seen it somewhere, or did it mean something else? She could imagine her mother sitting up here, reading about people falling in love and fantasizing about running away. Now that she’d met her grandparents and lived in this world, she realized what courage it had taken for her mom and dad to do what they did. She was proud of them.

It was nearing dinnertime. Bryn decided to take the books and photos and hide them in her room. Not that she should have to hide them, but if her mom had taken the trouble to do so, she felt like she should continue the tradition. There might be other photos of her mom in the house, but she’d yet to see any, and her grandmother had never offered to show her where they might be kept. So she wanted to keep these photos safe. The drawing didn’t seem like something she should carry around. Since it had belonged to her mother, she wouldn’t feel right throwing it away. Instead, she slid the piece of paper behind the bulletin board.

She made it back to her room without encountering anyone. She used a damp cloth to clean the dust from the books, and then she put them in her book bag. If asked, she could say they came from the library, not that she expected anyone to go through her bag. Once that was done, she changed and freshened up before going to dinner.

During dinner, she listened to her grandmother talk about details for the Christmas Eve ball. She did her best to smile and nod in all the right places. If her reactions were off, her grandmother didn’t seem to notice.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

While she’d dreaded Christmas Eve for the sadness it would bring, she was grateful when it finally arrived. The ball could be fun. At least she’d see other people.

Bryn checked her reflection in the full-length mirror. The strapless emerald gown her grandmother had bought her fit like a glove, but not in a skanky way. It skimmed over her curves, looking like it had been made for her.

The dress was good. Her red, blond, and black-streaked hair? That was another story.
Pick a color, any color.
Per her grandmother’s request, she planned to tone down her hair for the big event. What color should she choose?

All the guests at the ball would be other members of the Blue Clan, which meant they’d all be blond. Once again, she wouldn’t blend. Would it be worth the consequences to use Quintessence to stripe her hair red and green? Probably not. She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed.

Every guest at the ball would be craning their neck to see if the Sinclairs’ granddaughter was up to their standards. And the answer to that question would be a great big fat no. She didn’t have their manners, which Jaxon delighted in pointing out to her. She didn’t have their grace, which is why she opted for silk ballet flats rather than the heels her grandmother favored. What she did have was a screw-all-of-you attitude and the ability to roast anyone who pissed her off.

Though it might be better to save those extremes as a last resort. For now, she’d deal with her hair. Just to see what it would look like, she colored her hair platinum blond. With her fair complexion, she looked anemic. Option number two, she switched back to her original strawberry blond. Too boring.

She returned her hair to red and blond stripes without the black stripes. There, she’d given up one color for her grandmother. That would have to be enough.

A knock sounded on her bedroom door.

“Come in.”

Her grandmother entered looking regal in an ice-blue gown that matched her eyes.

“You look beautiful.” Bryn meant it.

Her grandmother gave a genuine smile. “Thank you. You look lovely as well.” Her gaze traveled to Bryn’s hair. “I see you reduced your hair coloring to two. Maybe you could pick one for this evening?”

“I tried. Nothing looked right. I did get rid of the black for you.”

“For that I’m grateful.” Her grandmother tilted her head. “With your coloring, you should go for a darker blond. Give it a try for me. If you don’t like it, you can change it back.”

Why not? She focused and shifted her hair color to a dark honey blond. The image in the mirror surprised her. It worked.

“What do you think?” her grandmother asked.

If it had been her idea, she’d like it more. “It works, but…” How to phrase this without ticking her grandmother off? “I don’t want people to think I’m trying to be something I’m not. Does that make sense?”

Her grandmother walked forward and touched the hair on Bryn’s right temple. “Add a red streak here.”

It worked. The cherry-red stripe gave a nod to her parentage but managed to appear sophisticated rather than punk rockish. “Good call. I like it.”

“Me, too. Now come with me and we’ll pick some jewelry to go with your gown.”

Since Zavien had turned out to be a cowardly jerk, she’d stopped wearing the necklace he’d given her. The key with the protection charm Onyx gave her hung from a thin gold chain around her neck. The key itself was less than an inch long.

“I don’t like to take off my protection charm.” She followed her grandmother down the hall to a room that had a keypad rather than a doorknob.

Her grandmother entered a long series of numbers and the door popped open. “If you must wear it, I imagine we can find a way to conceal it.”

Bryn entered the room and stood with her mouth hanging open. It was a jewelry thief’s dream. Display cases full of necklaces, rings, earrings, and bracelets lined the walls. There were separate cases for diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, and rubies. “Holy crap. All of this is yours?”

“It’s been handed down through generations,” her grandmother said.

Bryn stood still, afraid if she touched anything an alarm would go off.

Her grandmother walked over to a case and retrieved an emerald necklace with stones the size of pennies. “I think this would look lovely with your gown.”

Bad idea. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t like it?”

“What? No. I love it. But I could lose it or break it or do something stupid with it. You shouldn’t trust me with something that valuable.”

“You’re being ridiculous. Nothing will happen to the necklace as long as you leave it on.”

Yeah, because weird crap didn’t happen to her on a regular basis. Still, the necklace was gorgeous. Bryn let her grandmother fasten it around her neck. The stones were cool at first, but they warmed to her body heat. She checked a nearby mirror. “I feel like a princess in a fairy tale.” Too bad fairy tales never ended well.

“You’ll need to take your other necklace off.”

Bryn unhooked the chain and removed the small gold key. Now what? The strapless bra she’d struggled into in order to wear this dress fit like a vise. She turned away from her grandmother and slid the key into her bra.

“I think I’m ready.” Wait a minute. “Besides keeping my elbows off the table and don’t chew with my mouth open, are there any rules I should know about?”

“Never disagree with someone even if they say something ridiculous, just smile and say, ‘That’s an interesting perspective,’ or ‘I’ve never thought of it that way.’”

“So, no shooting fireballs at anyone’s head?” She was only half joking.

“No. Not unless I request it.”

“That takes some of the fun out of it. Just so you know, if anyone insults my parents, I will fight back.”

“If anyone says something to offend you, come find me. I’ll have them escorted from the ball and have their names removed from next year’s guest list. In our social circles, this ball is the highlight of the season. A threat from me will carry far more weight than the threat of a fireball from you.”

“Yes, but shooting a ball of flames at them would make me feel much better than having them banned from your party.”

“No fireballs in the house,” her grandmother said. “The only exception is if you’re defending yourself.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Christmas trees decorated with poinsettia flowers flanked the door to the ballroom. Each tree had a gold star at the top that sparkled in the light. Inside the ballroom, round tables were scattered around two-thirds of the room, while the center of the floor was left open for dancing. Not that anyone would ask her to dance. She should’ve invited Valmont.

An orchestral version of “Deck the Halls” played softly in the background. Correction. The orchestra on the stage at the far side of the room played “Deck the Halls.” All the instruments appeared to have dampers on them. If her grandfather didn’t want the music to be loud, why didn’t he hire a smaller group of musicians? Wait. She knew the answer. In her grandfather’s world, bigger, which meant more expensive, was better.

Bryn felt someone staring at her. She tuned back in to her surroundings and realized her grandmother was waiting for a response. “It’s beautiful.”

A smile of pride lit her grandmother’s face. “I’m glad you like it.”

If her grandmother had been a Red dragon, she would’ve been an interior decorator. Since she didn’t need to work, she threw fabulous, well-decorated parties instead.

“It’s tradition for us to greet the guests as they enter.” Her grandmother headed back to stand a dozen feet inside the doorway.

“Does that we include me?”
Please say no.

“It most definitely does.” Her grandmother pointed to the space next to her.

Great.
Bryn took up her appointed post. “What do I do?” If this involved any of that weird air-kissing like they showed on television when rich people got together, she was out.

“If you were a man, you’d shake everyone’s hand. Since you’re not, you hold your hands clasped at your waist, smile at everyone, and thank them for coming.”

She’d rather help the staff do the dishes. “Isn’t it weird for me to thank them for coming when they don’t know who I am, and I don’t know them?”

“Everyone will know who you are. And you’ll know who they are because I’ll introduce you.”

“Sounds like fun,” she lied.

People filtered into the ballroom in an orderly line. Bryn did her best to smile and nod during the introductions. If her grandparents hadn’t been next to her, half the people wouldn’t have said anything to her except to call her mean names. This was going to be a fabulous evening.

Once everyone entered the room, her grandmother pointed to a table near the orchestra. “Let’s have a drink and enjoy the orchestra for a moment before your grandfather welcomes everyone.”

Hadn’t they just done that?
Whatever.
She followed her grandmother to the appropriate table, smiling at anyone who looked her way. A few smiled back; most pretended not to see her. Fine. Not like it mattered.

Once she made it to the table, a waiter came around with glasses of tea and wine. When the waiter asked which she would like, she said tea. Although if there ever was an occasion to start drinking alcohol, sitting in a ballroom where the friendliest face she’d see all night would be Jaxon’s definitely qualified.

Their table was set for eight. Name cards warning her who would be joining them would’ve been nice. “Who will sit with us?”

“Whoever we ask to sit with us.” Her grandmother scanned the room and gave a slight nod to someone. Bryn tried to figure out who her grandmother was communicating with. Lillith and Jaxon approached the table. Lillith beamed while Jaxon appeared wary. What was that saying about the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t know?

“You’ve outdone yourself this year,” Lillith said. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Her grandmother zeroed in on Jaxon. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

He froze for a second, and then regained his composure. “Did you commission the gold and diamond stars for the trees flanking the door?”

“I did.” Her grandmother smiled.

“They are works of art that I’m sure your friends will be copying for their own holiday celebrations.”

Number one: What orifice had Jaxon pulled that from? Number two: The freaking stars were made of actual diamonds and gold?

“Where’s Ferrin?” her grandmother asked.

Who cares? If they were lucky, he’d been unable to attend.

Jaxon’s eyes darted around like he was checking the room for exits. Like he’d rather be anywhere other than where he was. “Mother, why don’t I go let Father know where you’ll be sitting?”

“Your father knows where to find
us
.” Lillith touched Jaxon’s shoulder. “Why don’t you and Bryn go mingle with some of your friends?”

Jaxon arched an eyebrow at Bryn.

“Are you trying to telepathically communicate that my friends aren’t here?” Bryn asked.

“I didn’t say a word.” Jaxon managed to sound confused.

“Right.”

He pointed at Bryn’s head. “Why did you change your hair?”

She grinned at him. “Before you ask that, wouldn’t it be polite for you to tell me how lovely I look?”

Her grandmother puffed up with pride. “I knew my genes were in there somewhere.”

Bryn laughed.

Jaxon’s nostrils flared.

“Oh, come on. It was funny.” Why was he being such a jerk? Maybe she should throw him a bone. “I wanted to try something different with my hair for the ball.”

“Two colors rather than three was a good choice.”

If he didn’t knock off the attitude, she’d touch him, focus her Quintessence, and do her damnedest to turn his hair flamingo pink.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Jaxon said, “I see someone I need to speak to.”

“Young man, be the gentleman your mother raised you to be,” her grandmother said. “Go introduce my granddaughter to your social circle.”

Could Jaxon ignore a direct order from her grandmother? She didn’t think so. Her grandfather seemed to outrank Ferrin by age, if not by money, and the ability to scheme and blackmail his fellow Directorate members. It made sense that her grandmother would outrank Lillith and Jaxon.

“Fine.” Jaxon pasted a polite smile on his face. “Bryn, would you like to mingle?”

She’d rather eat cockroaches, but that didn’t seem like an answer her grandmother would appreciate. “Thank you. That sounds lovely.” This fake socialite crap wasn’t so hard after all.
Lie through my teeth and I’m good to go.

As soon as they were a few feet from the table, out of the hearing of her grandmother, Bryn said, “So what does mingle mean? Small talk? Discussing how much money someone spent on their latest fur-lined yacht? Clue me in.”

“Why would anyone want a yacht lined with fur?”

“It was meant to be an absurd example.” She clipped off the end of the sentence where she referred to him as an idiot.

“Like a yacht with diamond chandeliers?” he asked.

“Yes. Why?”

They wove between tables toward Jaxon’s friend Quentin and several other Blues she didn’t recognize.

“Because your grandfather has one.”

What?
“If that’s true, I’m going to learn how to drive it and leave it in a port somewhere as a donation to a charity for kids with cancer.”

Jaxon came to a dead halt. “Why would you do that?”

“Because anyone who has enough money to buy a yacht with diamond chandeliers has enough money to help people.”

“Why would dragons help humans when they could help other dragons?”

Whack.
His question was like a Nerf bat upside the head. She’d been raised to believe she was human. Weird to think she no longer belonged in that category. Not like she’d try to explain that to Jaxon.

“I think you should help anyone who needs help, human or dragon. That’s beside the point. No one needs diamond chandeliers.”

“Your grandfather thinks otherwise, and I suggest you never repeat what you said to me in front of him or anyone else.”

They reached a gathering of three couples. Quentin was the only person Bryn recognized.

She smiled and nodded when people said hello. She smiled while the boys talked about what sports cars they hoped to get for Christmas. She smiled while the girls talked about platinum jewelry versus gold jewelry. Did she fit in either conversation? No. So she smiled and nodded and pretended to give a crap, because that’s what her grandmother wanted her to do.

When the orchestra started a song at full volume, everyone stopped talking and headed to their tables. She followed the Stepford maneuver, grateful to escape the boring conversation.

Once everyone was seated, her grandfather headed up to the stage and took a microphone. “Thank you all for coming this evening. In unsure times like these, it’s good to know who your friends are.” Polite applause sounded. All Bryn could think of was that war quote she’d heard in a movie, “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” Was that what her grandfather was doing? More than likely he was showing off his exorbitant wealth. Later, she’d have to ask why her grandparents were the ones to host the ball. It must have some meaning. Probably “my bank account is bigger than yours.”

Her grandfather waited for the applause to die down. “I’d like to wish all of you a wonderful holiday season.” The orchestra flared to life again, and her grandfather bowed to more applause.

Rather than joining Lillith, Jaxon, her grandmother, and her, he walked over to a table where several men, including Ferrin, sat.

“Isn’t he sitting with us?” Bryn asked.

“He’ll join us later. It’s hard to keep his mind off business for long.” Her grandmother didn’t seem to mind.

Two women her grandmother’s age approached the table and asked to join them. There was the standard polite round of introductions. Then the women started to talk about the difficulty of hiring reliable caterers for the holiday.
Yawn.

How had her mom put up with all this high-society crap? The stray thought made her heart ache.

Jaxon stared off into the distance while maintaining a polite smile and an occasional nod. He must have practiced this act from toddlerhood.

Since he was here, she might as well ask him how all this worked.

“Jaxon, what happens next?”

“What do you mean?”

She gestured in a circle to include the entire ballroom. “We eat, and then what happens?”

He looked like he was trying not to roll his eyes. “After everyone has eaten, there will be dancing. During that time, I will be hiding on the terrace behind a large plant. As will anyone who has any common sense.”

She laughed at the idea of him hiding behind the Christmas decorations. “Why hide? No one forces you to dance, do they?”

“Wait and see. Your grandmother will politely suggest you dance with someone so you can network with them. If Rhianna were here—”

The anger in his voice and the way he bit off the sentence made her heart hurt.

He cleared his throat and looked away. “Her parents dragged her off to Europe without allowing us to say good-bye.”

“I’m sorry.” She leaned in. “She’ll be back at school after the holiday break, won’t she?”

His eyes were hard and flat. “I’m not sure.”

Fire roared in her gut, and she tasted smoke in the back of her throat. What was happening to Rhianna and the other students who were now less than perfect was wrong.

She closed her eyes and took a slow measured breath, thinking about ice and snow and cold things to put out the fire. Setting her grandmother’s Christmas ball ablaze wouldn’t win her any favors.

Their food arrived. Bryn examined the plate of prime rib in front of her and checked to see what everyone else was doing. No one ate yet. Were they waiting for the entire ballroom to be served?
Who knew?
A better question, why hadn’t she chosen wine instead of tea?

Five minutes later, her grandmother picked up her fork and knife and cut into the entr
é
e. Everyone else did the same. Out of the corner of her eye, Bryn saw people at other tables pick up their utensils. It was like a ripple effect.

Bryn chewed, nodded, and smiled. When the plates were cleared, she craved sugar cookies with icing. Every year, she and her mom would make sugar cookie dough and cut out candy canes and stars. Her dad would take small balls of dough and make lopsided snowmen whose appearance did not improve with baking.

A wave of sadness swamped her, threatening to drown her where she sat. She took a deep breath and pushed the sadness away.
Don’t think about it. Time to focus on the present.

Everyone around her seemed so damn happy. Even Jaxon was chatting with his mother. Everyone had family, except for her. Okay, that wasn’t fair to her grandparents, but it would take a long time before they could fill the void left by her parents. And the sadness rolled in again. She needed to get out of here.

“Excuse me.” She pushed away from the table and headed out the door to a side hall where the restrooms for guests were located. She took a turn down a different hall and headed out onto a terrace decorated with twinkling lights designed to look like snowflakes.

Gripping the edge of the railing, she stared up at the stars, willing her tear ducts to behave. Her grandmother would never forgive her if she caused a scene at the Christmas ball. The night air was cool and the terrace was quiet. It was nice to get away from people. Maybe she could hide out here for the rest of the night.

Footsteps sounded behind her. Was it Jaxon or her grandmother coming to check on her?

“Out here by yourself?” a masculine voice asked.

She turned to find a young man smiling at her in a way that set her trouble meter on high alert, but he was one of her grandparent’s guests, so he couldn’t be too scary, right? The terrace, which had seemed nice and insulated from prying eyes, now seemed too secluded.

“I just came out for a breath of fresh air. I’m not used to being around so many people. I better get back before my grandmother sends someone to look for me.” Babbling, she moved toward the door, but he blocked her path.

“It’s too late for that.”