Soul Fire

8.3

Rhonan wasn't laughing.

Not while everyone else was.

His brows furrowed as a chill rushed down his spine. A warning. A trigger, that his razor sharp senses had caught.

What the trigger was, what caused it, was unknown. But Rhonan was alert regardless.

He sat up straighter, his spine rigid, on the deep blue velvet couch in the middle of the faerie's suite. He sent out all of the tools in his arsenal. His eyes scanned the space, scanned the faces of the faeries and specialists before him as his formless magic probed out in all directions. The specialists showed no sign that they had felt anything. Xenia was talking with Timmy, them both fidgeting with their gadgets that did dryr-knows-what and showing each other their screens. He hadn't bothered trying to understand what they were talking about.

Rhonan shouldn't be drinking. Not when he was in a piss mood, like today. He was smiling momentarily earlier at a joke Skye had made, but that was long gone. He knew he probably had a scowl plastered across his face, but he liked that the others kept their distance from him tonight, so he didn't bother trying to be more pleasant. The only person having a worse time than him was probably Riven. Across the room, Riven was glaring at Bloom like he wanted to rip her throat out. Bloom was oblivious. Rhonan had tried to figure Riven out, tried to understand what Riven was so afraid of, what he knew. But Riven wasn't one to open up. Certainly not to him.

Stella had her head tipped back mid-laugh, her golden hair glistening in the low light. No hint of those glowing golden eyes tonight- she was happy, relaxed. Though that may very well be the faerie wine coursing through her veins. Stella exclaimed something loudly. She was never afraid to be loud, and this was no different. Her voice was louder than all the rest, as if she couldn't keep her light contained, couldn't keep herself reigned in. But there was a coldness to her. A drop of moonlight amidst the endless sun. Rhonan's Captain sat beside her grinning, clearly enjoying the princess' company. His dark brown hair was longer than Rhonan had seen it in a long time, and Stella made a comment about it. Skye gave her a smile that would have made any other girl blush or fall into a pool at his feet, which Rhonan had witnessed plenty of times. Not Stella, though. The prince of good looks has finally met his match.

Next to them, Musa's eyes were closed, her fingers tapping on her knee to the beat of the bass blasting out of the nearby speakers. Her deep black hair was pulled into a high ponytail, but the shorter of the bottom strands spilled out around her face and neck. Stella made some comment to Musa, but Musa was too engrossed in her song to notice. Musa had always paid more attention to her music than she did her surroundings. That might get her killed someday. He hated to be cynical like that, but he couldn't help that warrior-like perspective. He had grown up forced to be on-guard for any kind of danger, always looking over his shoulder, always face to face with potential enemies. Though admittedly, he wasn't convinced anyone here was truly his enemy. He trusted his team with his life, perhaps the closest thing to true brotherhood and allyship he's ever known, but these faeries were not his friends. And he didn't trust any of them.

Flora was quiet beside Rhonan, as she usually was. She rarely spoke unless directly spoken to, as Rhonan had been doing earlier. He wondered if she preferred to be the peacekeeper of the group. She had a maternal side to her, and her small smile gave nothing away. Her warm eyes held something unspeakable that Rhonan was all too familiar with.

His magic continued feeling out the space around him, and if anyone noticed, they didn't let on. His eyes lingered on Bloom, who, for the first time since he'd known her, had no echo of power surrounding her. Perhaps it was the faerie wine. Her eyes were glazed over and she stared off into space. She was far, far away from here tonight.