Chapter Eleven – Glass Shadows
1458 Words
The gala had burned bright, but now it smoldered low. Music softened to a murmur, laughter dulled into tired sighs, and servants swept away champagne stems like clearing the battlefield after a feast. Elara’s back ached, her hands stung from hot water and soap, yet her body moved on instinct, weaving among the last guests as if she had been born to serve.
She thought she might finally vanish into the kitchen, lose herself in the anonymity of clattering dishes until she felt it again.
That gaze.
When she looked up, Cassian Mercer was watching her.
He sat at the long table, posture carved in glass, bow tie still in place though everyone else had surrendered to disheveled collars and undone cuffs. A man untouched by chaos, untouched by time. Yet his eyes,dark and focused, had found her across the thinning room.
Elara swallowed hard and kept moving, balancing her tray of empties. But her path, traitorous, pulled her toward him.
When she reached for the last glass at his elbow, his voice stopped her.
“You missed one.”
She froze. Her fingers hesitated above the rim of the crystal, her pulse hammering. She hadn’t missed it, she had avoided it. Avoided him.
“Thank you, sir,” she said quietly, lifting the glass to her tray.
Cassian’s gaze lingered on her, slow and deliberate, like he was measuring the weight of each flicker across her face. “You call everyone that, don’t you?”
Her breath hitched. She forced composure, aligning the glasses on her tray. “It’s what’s expected.”
His voice dropped, subtle but sharp. “And if it wasn’t expected?”
The air shifted. Elara’s throat went dry. She didn’t look up, but she felt him lean ever so slightly closer, not enough for the guests to notice, but enough for her to feel the whisper of his presence brush against her skin.
“Words have weight,” Cassian murmured. “Some of us might start to think you mean them.”
Her breath caught, betraying her, and when she finally dared a glance, she found his mouth curved in the faintest suggestion of a smile. Not playful like Liam’s, not wild, something subtler, more dangerous.
Her fingers tightened around the tray until the stems clinked. “You should let me finish my work.”
“Perhaps I should.” His gaze didn’t move. “But I find myself… curious.”
Elara blinked. “Curious?”
Cassian leaned back now, restoring that . She bowed her head, muttered something inaudible, and turned toward the kitchen.
In the kitchen, the world returned to clatter and steam. Elara scrubbed plates with trembling hands, Liam’s storm still rattling her bones, but now something else pulsed beneath her skin, cooler, sharper, the shadow Cassian had left behind.
For the first time that night, she wasn’t sure which Mercer boy was more dangerous.
The last of the staff trickled away, their laughter fading into the servants’ quarters. The chandeliers had dimmed to a soft glow, and only a few candles burned low along the great dining table.
Elara was alone, cloth in hand, smoothing out the last streaks of polish across the gleaming surface. Her back ached, but she moved slowly, carefully, as if the silence itself deserved respect.
“You work too late,” Cassian’s voice said from the shadows.
She turned, not startled this time. He stepped forward, jacket gone, sleeves rolled with immaculate precision, every line of him still composed. His gaze swept the empty hall before returning to her.
“I prefer to finish what I start,” she said.
“Not many do.” He said. “But you’re not like most.”
Her lips twitched, the faintest ghost of a smile. “Neither are you.”
Something flickered in his eyes, a gleam like glass catching flame. Then silence fell again, steady and charged.
Elara laid the cloth neatly on the table. “And yet, Mr. Mercer, shouldn’t you be resting by now?”
Cassian’s mouth curved, subtle, unreadable. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I wanted to see who else lingers when the lights go out.”
Her breath stilled, but she held her ground, dipping her head with quiet poise. “Then I hope it was worth the search.”
Before Cassian could reply, a sudden sound broke the hush. A burst of music, playful, defiant, echoing down the marble corridor.
Elara blinked. Cassian’s head turned.
And then Liam appeared.
Still in his tux, bow tie discarded, hair loosened but gleaming, he strolled into the empty hall with a grin tugging at his mouth. From a small speaker in his hand came a familiar beat, his favorite song, bright and unrestrained.
“Perfect timing,” Liam drawled, tossing the speaker onto the table. He didn’t bother to ask if they minded. He simply let the music swell, then moved with it. Loose, unpolished, entirely free.
Cassian arched a brow, half-amused, half-incredulous.
“You’re serious?” he asked.
Liam only winked, sliding into another step, his tuxedo glinting under the dim chandeliers. “Deadly.”
And then, to Elara’s astonishment, Cassian rose. He stood a moment, watching the ghost of disbelief in her expression. Then, slowly, deliberately, he stepped into the rhythm. With precise, fluid movements that fit the music in a way she hadn’t thought possible for him.
Liam laughed, delighted. “Would you look at that? Cassian Mercer, ladies and gentlemen!”
Elara pressed her hand against her lips, but the smile escaped anyway. The polished, unreachable Cassian joining his brother’s chaos, this was something she had never thought she’d see.
Elara couldn’t help it; laughter bubbled out of her chest. She pressed a hand to her lips, but the grin stayed. The two brothers were so different and yet, in this moment, they moved like they had grown up dancing in secret hallways together.
Then, three sharp knocks.
The sound cut through the beat. All three froze. It was too late for visitors, too late for anything but trouble.
Liam narrowed his eyes and lowered the volume. “Who the hell knocks this late?”
Cassian’s expression didn’t shift, but his gaze flicked toward the door. “Only one way to find out.”
Liam strode over, still catching his breath from dancing. He yanked the door open and blinked.
“I'm sorry?” he asked, recognition snapping in.
It was Laura
Laura stood in the threshold, her hair mussed from the night wind, her tote bag slung carelessly over her shoulder. “Hey, what's up, I'm looking for Elara ," she said, glancing at him. Her eyes found Elara instantly. “I’ve been looking for you all day. Mr. Costa was livid. He said if I didn’t drag you back tonight, you’d be in deep trouble.”
Elara’s stomach dropped. She set down the rag in her hand, already gathering her things in a rush. “Oh, no…” she murmured, slipping her apron into her bag.
Laura stepped in, lowering her voice but not her urgency. “I told him you’d been busy, but he wasn’t having it. He left in a storm and asked me to get you, girl, why don't you just quit the job.”
Elara winced and scurried around the hall, tucking away stray clothes and stacking plates.
“You’re not serious,” Liam said, watching her movements. His voice carried a note of disbelief. “You still work this late? At his beck and call?”
“It’s not like I have much of a choice,” Elara said quickly, trying not to meet his eyes. She swung her bag over her shoulder.
Liam cut in. “I’ll give you a ride.”
Elara stopped mid-step, startled. “You don’t need to, you don't even know the place”
“I insist.” His tone left no room for argument, but then he softened it, flashing that crooked grin. “Besides, don’t you remember? We’ve met at the café before. I know the way.”
Elara hesitated, torn between pride and gratitude. “Dont bother…”
“Don’t bother arguing,” he said smoothly, already grabbing his keys from the table.
Behind them, Cassian leaned against the wall, arms folded. His face revealed nothing, no protest, no agreement but the silence itself was heavy, an unspoken current in the air. His gaze lingered on Elara for just a second too long
Laura shifted awkwardly, glancing between the brothers. “Well… if we’re going, we’d better go now.”
Elara hugged her bag closer and gave Cassia
n a small nod before following Liam and Laura toward the door.
The music had gone silent, but the echo of it still pulsed in her chest.
- Writer
