cinder || dnf

chapter thirty four

The ballroom temperature spiked as hundreds of faces turned toward Dream.

Perhaps the crowd would have turned away a moment later, indifferent, if they hadn't found the emperor's personal guest to be a boy with damp hair and mud splatters on the pants of his wrinkled silk suit. As it was, the gazes halted, pinning Dream to the top of the stairs. His mismatched feet stuck to the landing as if concrete had hardened around them.

He looked at George, his jaw hanging as he took him in.

He'd expected Dream to come the entire time. He'd reserved a spot for him as his personal guest. Dream could only imagine how he was regretting that decision now.

Beside him, Pearl's face had began to burn beneath the glowing chandeliers. Dream looked at his stepsister, at Adri, took in their speechless mortification, and reminded himself to breathe.

It was already over for him.

Pearl had almost certainly told George that he was cyborg.

Soon, Queen Minx would see him too and know he was Lunar. He would be taken, maybe killed. There was nothing he could do about it now.

But he had taken the risk. He had made the decision to come.

It would not go to waste.

He squared his shoulders. Lifted his chin.

Gathering up some courage, he fixed his gaze on George and made his way slowly down the steps.

George's eyes softened into something almost like amusement, as if such a ragged appearance was all one could expect from a renowned mechanic.

A murmur rippled through the crowd and as the heel of Dream's boot hit the marble floor with forced precision, the sea of gowns began to shuffle aside. Women whispered behind their hands. Men craned their necks to catch the hushed gossip.

Even the servants had stopped to watch him, holding trays of delicacies aloft. The scent of garlic and ginger clouded around them, twisting Dream's stomach into knots. He realized suddenly how famished he was. All the preparations for running away had left little time for eating. Coupled with his anxiety, it almost made him feel faint. He did his best to ignore it, to be strong, but nervousness was expanding through his taut muscles with every step. His pulse was a drumbeat inside his head.

Every eye swept over him, mocking him. Every head turned to whisper, rumors already taking flight. Dream's ears rang, picking snatches of conversation- A personal guest? But who is he? And what is that stuff on his jacket?- until Dream adjusted the audio interface, silencing the words.

Never in his life had he been so glad he could not blush.

George's lips twitched, and though he still looked baffled, he did not look angry or disgusted. Dream gulped. As he got nearer, his arms burned to wrap around himself, to cover his filthy, wrinkled, water-stained tux as best he could, but he didn't allow them. It would have been futile, and George didn't care about his attire.

If anything, he was probably trying to discern how much of the mechanic was metal and silicon.

He kept his head high, even as his eyes stung, even as panic filled his vision with warnings and precautions.

It was not his fault George had liked him.

It was not his fault he was cyborg.

He would not apologize.

He focused only on walking, one thudding step after another, as the crowd parted before him, then closed again in his wake.

But before he reached the emperor, a figure pushed out of the crowd and into his path. Dream froze, halted by the seething glare of his stepmother.