THE SHIFT IN THE AIR...
The moment Velena stepped back into the main ballroom, she felt it—the shift in the atmosphere. The air was thick with unspoken words, conversations that held more meaning than they revealed.
She made her way towards Ceil, who was still engaged in conversation with the older man. His demeanor was composed, relaxed, but Velena had spent enough time watching him to notice the subtle signs—his fingers tapping lightly against his glass, the faintest shift in his stance. He was calculating something.
She stopped beside him, her presence acknowledged but not immediately addressed. Ceil's ability to control a situation was impressive, but tonight, Velena wasn't feeling patient.
The older man—Mr. Salvatore, if she remembered correctly—finally turned his attention towards her.
"Ah, and this must be the infamous Velena," he mused, amusement dancing in his eyes. "You have quite the reputation for someone who wasn't in our world until recently."
Velena gave a polite, measured smile. "Reputation is a tricky thing, Mr. Salvatore. It rarely tells the whole story."
The man chuckled. "Wise words." Then, with a knowing glance at Ceil, he added, "Keep an eye on this one, Blackthorn. I have a feeling she's far more dangerous than she lets on."
Velena didn't react, but Ceil's smirk grew just a little sharper. "Oh, I am counting on it."
Mr. Salvatore excused himself, leaving Velena and Ceil alone.
THE CONVERSATION...
The moment he was gone, Velena turned to Ceil, her voice low. "Who was he?"
Ceil took a sip of his drink. "A necessary acquaintance."
Velena's eyes narrowed. "And yet, he seemed to know a lot about me."
Ceil finally met her gaze. Something unreadable flickered in his expression. "Everyone here knows something, Velena. The question is—how much do they know?"
A calculated answer. Too careful.
"Speaking of knowing things," she said, tilting her head slightly, "I just had an interesting conversation with someone in the hall."
Ceil's expression didn't change, but she noticed the slight pause before he replied. "Who?"
Velena stared at him for a moment, debating how much to reveal. "A man who warned me about trusting the wrong people."
Ceil's smirk returned, now tinged with something more—analytical, considering. "And did the mysterious stranger have a name?"
"He didn't," Velena admitted. "But he seemed to know you."
Ceil hummed, his gaze flickering briefly over the room. "How interesting."
Velena leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. "You're not going to ask what else he said?"
Ceil finally looked at her fully, his smirk fading. "I assume you would not have mentioned him if you didn't want me to know."
Velena held his gaze. "He said not to trust you."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The noise of the gala faded into the background, leaving only the tension between them.
Then Ceil chuckled softly. "And do you?"
Velena exhaled slowly. "I haven't decided yet."
Ceil's smirk returned, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Good. Keep it that way."