Cotillion

By Britt DeLaney

The annual Cotillion is where the men of the Enchanted Realm select their brides. Auralette is chosen by the most powerful sorcerer in the realm who needs her help to break an ancient curse. As they work to free their people, Auralette fights to keep her wits about her despite the allure of her growing powers and the dark seduction of her mysterious groom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Britt DeLaney
• Release date: Jun 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798201921309

Britt DeLaney

Britt DeLaney lives and writes near Philadelphia. In her spare time she watches too much Netflix, eats too many Pop-Tarts, and is currently writing her ass off.

Book preview

1

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JUST LOOK AT her! The young woman snapped her fan in irritation. That dress is an absolute fright.

She probably made it from the drapes in her drawing room, added a nearby girl, whose tightly fitted lemon-yellow gown made her flesh look more than slightly bilious under the light of the chandeliers.

What’s her name again, Mardella? asked one of the other girls.

Auralette. Mardella sneered the name as though it carried an odor.

The girls turned in unison to stare at the poor girl in the corner. Unlike the sleek bejeweled gowns of the others, her gown was a deep blue with gold-threaded embroidery and puffed white organza sleeves. Adequate, but by no means as luxurious as the others. Her thick, brown hair showed red-gold highlights under the flowers woven into it, and her hazel eyes, slightly upturned nose, and full mouth were pretty enough, but easily disregarded due to her family’s lack of fortune and her own meager magical gift.

Mardella tilted her pointed chin and stared down her long, thin nose at the crowd of girls around her. Really, I don’t know why they even let her in.

Charity, I suppose, said Anexis, a lovely girl with flashing dark eyes and rich mahogany skin. She absently picked at one of the hundreds of crystals decorating her gown. Her gift is barely noticeable.

To illustrate the point, Anexis swept a hand down her body and the crystals on her gown lit up in a rainbow of jeweled colors, which then settled into a lovely aura all around her. Several of the girls tittered and broke into applause at the sight.

Well, said Mardella, if you’re going to be showing off—

She snapped her fingers, and a brilliant red flame sprang up from her fingertips and shot toward the ceiling. It stopped short of the chandeliers before it swirled into a burning heart floating in midair. Several of the attendees at the ball stopped—some in the middle of a dance—to ooh and ahh and clap.

Two men in richly appointed clothing peeled off from whomever they’d been speaking with and began making their way toward the group of women.

I’ll never be noticed next to the two of you, complained the girl in the yellow gown. My gift isn’t nearly as grand." She made a face, and bright green and purple plumage sprang from her skin, sweeping out from her eyes like large, feathered lashes.

At least I can keep my husband warm at night, Mardella said. She gave the girl in the yellow gown a sniff. Though I suppose you could be helpful at breakfast, Preva, should your husband desire eggs.

Preva gave a harumph and sauntered off toward the refreshments table to find some punch, and hopefully a groom with an eye for the exotic.

A moment later, the two gentlemen arrived, extending their hands to both Mardella and Anexis and leading them to the dance floor. The rest of the group sighed and cast glances at the remaining gentlemen around the room.

How many are there this year? asked a girl in a red gown who was surrounded by shimmering, glowing butterflies.

Fourteen, answered another girl who was playing with a cup full of punch, watching the liquid arc up and form various fish and fowl shapes before returning to the cup with a plop. Mama said it’s the largest crop of bachelors from the Enchanted Realm yet. And they’re all so handsome!

And rich, said another girl, whose voice was so musically lovely, it sent gooseflesh down the arms of all who heard it. One of them is speaking to my father right now. It appears I’ll be a bride on my very first ball.

Of course, you will, Giata, said the girl with the butterflies. Your gift is amazing. But I think any one of them would be lucky to have brides such as us.

The girl with the punch stopped playing with her refreshment long enough to nod toward the girl in the corner. Well, most of us, anyway. I wonder who’s going to choose to be shackled to Auralette?

Auralette stood almost in the shadows at the far end of the room, gnawing her lip as she studied the crowd around her. One hand was held carefully in front of her, balancing a tiny ball of glittering light. Every so often it would flicker and go out, and Auralette would bite her lip harder, a crease forming on her brow as she screwed up her face, flourished her fingers, and summoned the ball of light once more.

How long do you think she can keep that up? asked the butterfly girl.

Certainly not long enough to get any sort of attention, replied Giata. It’s a shame. Her poor father could certainly use the dowry. She broke into a wide smile at the sight of her own father gesturing for her to join him at the side of a well-dressed young man. If you’ll excuse me, ladies, she said. I do believe I have a betrothed.

Which one is he? asked the girl with the punch.

Lord Dravon of Tyses Manor, sighed the butterfly girl. She’s danced with him a few times this evening. He can manipulate crystals and gemstones. She’ll be dripping with jewels for the rest of her life.

A tiny shriek rent the air and the girls turned in surprise to see Auralette slapping at a small, burned circle on the front of her gown. They all broke into laughter at the sight, adding to the general titters echoing from amongst the rest of the crowd.

She’ll never be a bride, said the girl with the punch. She’ll be stuck in that hovel of a village until she starves to death with the rest of her family.

A pity, said the girl with the butterflies. Maybe she’ll be noticed next year—hopefully not for making a spectacle of herself.

A sudden hush fell over the crowd and both girls turned toward the opposite corner, where a tall man in a sweeping velvet cloak of dark blue with a matching doublet strode purposefully across the ballroom, cutting between the dancers as he made his way toward his intended target.

"Who is that? The butterfly girl asked, her jaw dropping open at the site of his commanding presence, the breadth of his shoulders, and the sweep of hair so dark, it carried midnight blue glimmers under the lights. How did I not notice him before?"

I noticed him, said the punch girl. But he hasn’t asked anyone to dance. He’s just been standing to the side, watching everyone on the floor. Rumor has it he’s the wealthiest of them all. He’s Lord Jasien of Ambrey, and this is his ninth ball—without ever choosing a bride.

I don’t like the way he’s been looking at all of us. The girl with the punch finally decided to stop playing with it and take a sip, only to frown at the taste. And there’s something—different about him.

It’s his power, said the butterfly girl. You can feel it from here. Indeed, her butterflies had ceased their circling and were now fluttering frantically behind her. Do we know what it is?

He can harness water, I think. And something else, as well. Very few of them have command of two types of magical power. I’ve heard he’s quite—

The girl with the punch was interrupted by a sharp elbow to the ribs from her companion. In fact, the whole ballroom seemed to pause, holding its breath as the mysterious man came to a stop in front of Auralette, bowed deeply, and extended a hand. She stared at him for a moment in shocked disbelief, then remembered to drop into a curtsy. They spoke—no one could hear what was said—and Auralette wiped her hand nervously on her gown. Then her fingers clasped his, and Lord Jasien led her onto the dance floor.

"Why in all the realms would he want to dance with her?" The butterfly girl crinkled up her nose.

Punch girl gave a shrug and went back to playing with her drink. He must see something that we don’t.

Besides the hole in her cheap gown?

The musicians suddenly remembered to start playing again, and the lord slid an arm around Auralette’s waist, sweeping her into the throng of dancers, whirling and spinning as they dodged and swayed with such expertise as to be utterly mesmerizing. The crowd began to part, gravitating towards the edge of the circle that Auralette and her partner now inhabited, each with eyes only for the other.

A hush fell over the room and the candles in the chandeliers seemed to suddenly be ten times brighter, casting dappled, shifting patterns on the walls and floor. Auralette had the full attention of not only her partner, but everyone in the room.

Is she—glowing? asked the butterfly girl, her magic dissolving into the air around her.

She is, replied her companion, equally awestruck. I’ve never seen anything like it. What do you think it means?

Auralette has captured the attention of the richest, most powerful, and best-looking bachelor here, the girl ground out with a good deal of irritation. That’s what it means.

2

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MAY I HAVE your company?

The girl’s head snapped up and Jasien rather thought she looked like a startled rabbit. Then she dropped into a deep curtsy, nearly falling over in her haste before she rose.

Have my what? she squeaked.

Your company, he repeated patiently. For a dance.

She looked dumbfounded. You want to dance? With me?

He would have laughed, but he was afraid she’d run away. Instead, he curved his lips into what he hoped was a passable smile. He should never have worn this cloak. It was hot as a farmer’s balls in here.

The girl, despite her startled demeanor, had promise. He’d been watching her all night as she paced and fidgeted and occasionally paused to speak with her father. It was during the latter that she caught his eye as it was the only time she looked even mildly comfortable all night. Able to let her guard down with someone familiar, she allowed herself to sway with the music, her hips circling in a tantalizing way. Her supple arms moved with an unconscious grace as she gestured in response to something her father said, then every so often she’d tilt her head, elongating the curve of her neck as her eyes closed and she got lost in the music. He found himself unable to look away. 

Jasien couldn’t help but notice the other men who were equally intrigued—that is, until she attempted to produce that pitiful spark of magic. No one paid her much mind after that. 

Still, there might be something there, and he felt an unfamiliar tug somewhere in his chest at her crestfallen expression after every attempt at magic, and the longing in her eyes as she watched the other couples twirl by. He crossed the floor to give her a try.

And now she looked like she might faint.

She wet her lips nervously. I— 

Her eyes focused somewhere over Jasien’s left shoulder, likely at her father. She gave a shaky nod either to him or to the Jasien—he was unsure which—and she tried again.

I would be delighted, my lord.

She didn’t look delighted. She looked like she was going to vomit. Not an auspicious beginning.

He held out a hand and she stared down at it as if she were utterly surprised to find it at the end of his arm. 

Your hand? he asked.

Oh! Of course. She put her hand in his, after first wiping it self-consciously on her gown. It was warm and delicate and only slightly shaking.

I’m—

Jasien of Ambrey, she interrupted, following that up with a look of great chagrin. "Forgive me. Lord Jasien. Everyone’s been talking about you."

He raised a brow and she rushed to add, Only good things. Most favorable. 

I’m relieved to hear it. And you are?

Auralette.

Her name had a lovely sound to it. He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her to the dance floor. She was stiff at first, and clearly terrified of making a mistake. He needed to get her comfortable, and damn, he just wasn’t good at this sort of thing.

Is this your first?

What? Her head snapped up and confusion put a crease in her brow.

The Cotillion, Jasien clarified. Is this your first? I don’t recall seeing you attend before.

She wet her lips nervously, and Jasien’s eyes couldn’t help but follow the flick of her tongue across them.

"Yes, I suppose it’s a bit odd to see a girl my age take her first turn at the