Masters of the Sky

Chapter 34 What Will Never Be

Celia was stalked anxiously from one side of the room to another. She hurriedly left the ballroom and retreated to the guest wing, where she and Gabriel had a room prepared. Her heart was still racing, and the pulse throbbed painfully in her temples. What happened there... was unbelievable. She refused to accept that it was Gabriel's idea. It must have been some plot, and she bet the governor manipulated his bastard son to go for such a cruel and pointless move... She bet...

She hid her face in her hands to muffle a frustrated scream. Her fingers itched to grab fancy furniture and trash this damned place. To break precious crystal glasses, smash painted golden chairs and rip apart fluffy pillows. But she did none of that, as that would resolve nothing and only interfere with her plan.

Celia held her steps in front of the mirror, staring at her pitiful reflection. Her carefully applied makeup was smudged and ran down her cheeks, leaving dark streaks. Her chest was heaving as if she just ran across the whole Iron Shore.

"Stupid, naive fool. That's what you are," Celia whispered, wiping her face with a handkerchief. She could still hear the distant buzz of the party, music playing and people chattering as if they had just witnessed another entertainment, not a public torture. It made her sick; she only wanted to leave this horrible place and never look back.

But she couldn't leave without giving Gabriel a chance to explain. A rational part of her brain was already hard at work, devising several solutions for her current predicament. However, a small, foolish part of her clung desperately to the sliver of hope that maybe there was still a chance for reconciliation. Maybe, just maybe, she shouldn't rush to the conclusion without knowing all the facts. And so, she kept waiting, fiddling with two identical rings on her right hand.

The time passed slowly as if it mocked Celia, who was still tense and felt as if she was sitting on the bed of pines and needles. Still, when the door finally opened, and Gabriel came in, she was not ready for what she was about to do.

"Celia! There you are," he said, an honest relief spilling over his face. "When I saw you ran out of the ballroom, I wanted to follow immediately, but then people had so many questions and I...." He paused and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. Are you alright? You looked distressed."

"You think? What the hell you've been thinking?"

Gabriel took a step back, surprised by the cold fury in her voice. "I've been doing what I always do. Gaining support for our cause." A small smile played on his lips. "And you wouldn't believe how many people want to throw their money at us now."

"I don't care about money, Gabriel!" Celia exploded her voice more like a distressed shriek than her usual confident and cocky tone. "You dragged a shackled prisoner to the ballroom and publicly mutilated him. How on earth is that not bothering you?"

"Oh." The realisation finally seemed to dawn on him, and he cocked his head. "I had no idea it would bother you so much. I thought, in your line of work, you've seen far worse."

"Don't give me that crap about my line of work." Celia scoffed. "We both know I'm not a good person, but this... it was a senseless cruelty. And for what? To get applause from those corrupted, sick scums we called nobles?"

Gabriel sighed and raised his hands. "Celia, we've been through this. If we want our plan to work, we must have enough funds to prepare ourselves. We can't do that alone, as much as I'd love to."

Celia crossed her arms. "And what exactly is our plan? Conquering the lands over the mountains? That's the first time I've heard about it."

"You want to change the world, don't you?" Gabriel asked quietly.