Annie quietly rose from the bar, drink in hand, and slipped away through the crowd. The shadows near the edge of the room offered a little more distance, a little more silence. She found a small table draped in ocean blue silk, the soft flickering candlelight at its center reflecting in the curves of her glass as she sat.
From here, she could see the whole floor.
The music had taken a darker, more seductive tone, bass pulsing like a heartbeat underwater. Lights spun lazily in deep cobalt hues, and Yara had claimed the spotlight without even trying.
Malvor was still dancing with her. Still laughing. Still… there.
And he was into it.
Yara pressed close again, her hands sliding lower with every pass, her hips flush against his, her mouth brushing near his ear. And Malvor? He was not just tolerating it. He was enjoying it.
His smile was sharp, teasing. His movements matched hers step for step, dip for dip. His hands wandered, never disrespectfully, never too far, but far enough that the air between them was charged. Far enough that anyone watching could tell: he was not pulling away.
Annie sipped her drink, the cool liquid grounding her. Her face was unreadable, composed as ever. But her mind? Sharp and steady.
Of course he was into it. It was Yara's birthday. She was divine beauty, bold and confident, chaos in her own right. And Malvor? He was Malvor. He did not hide his appreciation for beauty. Never had.
But that did not make watching any easier.
Still, Annie did not move. Did not pout. Did not flinch. She simply folded one leg over the other, rested her chin on her hand, and watched like she was watching a play she had already memorized, one with a brilliant, arrogant lead who always made a scene before returning to the one person who did not beg for the spotlight.
And she would be that person.
She always was.
Her drink shimmered in the soft blue light, and she took another sip, waiting.
Waiting for him to remember who he truly wanted to be tangled up with when the music faded.
Annie remained composed at her table, swirling her drink slowly. She did not need to prove anything, not to Malvor, not to Yara, not to herself. But the longer the music pulsed and the harder the drinks hit, the more she welcomed a distraction.
It came in the form of Navir.
He approached with his usual easy grace, dressed impeccably in a shimmering blue jacket that looked spun from stardust and sleek tech, elegance fused with innovation.
"Mind if I join you, Anastasia?" he asked, voice like silk and circuitry. He pushed up his unneeded glasses on his nose.
Before she could answer, Ravina slid in beside him, her green-tinted gown flowing like forest mist over water. Her skin shifting tones of brown like tree bark. "I told him you looked lonely," she said with a warm smile. "Though I know better. You have never been the lonely type, have you?"
Annie arched a brow. "Your company is welcome," she said simply, gesturing to the open chairs.
They sat, flawlessly poised, flawlessly pleasant. Ravina sipped her drink like a queen entertaining lesser nobility, her gaze drifting lazily over the dance floor. "Yara really outdid herself," she said. "Though she always does. Did you see the bubble harp room?"
Annie chuckled, her tone dry. "Only from a distance. I heard someone got stuck in one of the bubbles."
Navir grinned. "He deserved it. Tried to flirt with the DJ mid-song."
Ravina shook her head, amused. "She shorted out his hair. You would have loved it."
"I might have," Annie said, the edge of a real smile tugging at her lips.
Navir leaned in a little, elbows on the table, eyes dancing. His dark hair partially hiding his dark brown eyes. "I was hoping you would show up. It is not a proper Pantheon party without our new favorite wild card."
Annie tilted her head. "Am I really the favorite?"
"You partied in Luxor's realm like you owned the place," Ravina said, lips twitching. "And you pranked Aerion so bad his stable master quit. You have earned the title."
Annie gave a small, unapologetic shrug. "He had it coming."
"Agreed," Navir said without hesitation. "That horse was uncanny. The cheekbones? Spot on."
Ravina gave a mock sigh. "If I have to hear about that horse one more time—"
"—you will finally admit it was art," Navir finished, grinning.
Their laughter came easily, and Annie allowed herself a sliver of amusement. It felt almost normal, sitting here with two gods, laughing like acquaintances instead of enemies. Almost.
Navir pulled a smooth, metallic orb from his jacket and tapped it. It expanded midair into a glowing holographic globe of Yara's realm, real time, shimmering with ley line energy. Floating sea creatures drifted between projections of coral palaces and glowing trenches.
"You made that?" Annie asked, watching a tiny stingray twirl through a projection of the dance floor.
"Of course," he said, smug but endearing. "She will not let me touch her ocean, so I made a version that listens."
"She will love that," Ravina murmured, deadpan.
Annie raised her glass. "To Navir. Innovating ways to annoy Yara since… always?"
"To multitasking," Navir replied, clinking his glass against hers. "I can annoy and impress at the same time."
Ravina offered her glass next. "To Annie. Chaos in heels."
Annie smirked. "These heels cost more than a mortal house. You better toast them properly."
They laughed again, and for a moment, she let herself forget the constant edge she carried. It was not trust, not even close, but it was comfort. Dangerous, seductive comfort. Their charm was practiced, their timing perfect.
Too perfect.
Ravina tilted her head, just slightly. "You seem different tonight."
"Do I?"
"Relaxed. Maybe even happy."
Annie held her gaze. "Maybe I am."
Navir smiled. "Malvor must be good for you. Or at least entertaining."
"He is something," she said carefully.
They nodded in sync, too smooth to be real.
Annie set her glass down slowly, the edge of her awareness sharpening. There was something under the surface of all this warmth, something waiting.
But it was late. The drinks were strong. And for a few stolen minutes, she let herself pretend.
Then the air changed.
Not loud. Not visible.
Just off.
She felt it first, like the echo of thunder through the sea.
Then came the cold twist.
A presence.
Aerion.