Nightweaver #1

Chapter Thirty

“Father really outdid himself tonight,” Lewis whispers. I didn’t notice when he appeared behind my left shoulder, carrying a tray of bacon-wrapped quail.

“Sampled the goods, have you?” I shoot him a wry look.

His lip quirks—his only answer—as he directs a pointed glance at the plate in my hand. I slipped into the ballroom unnoticed and made a beeline for the dessert table, tucked away in an alcove at the back of the room, where I could watch the dancing from afar. The delicate glass plate, now piled high with fruitcake, miniature silk pies, almond pudding, and the like, reflects the gilded light of the candelabras, illuminating Lewis’s clean face. He cut his hair before the ball, his long blond locks now tapered just above his ears. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to seeing him without dirt on his cheeks or his hair matted with grease, but there’s no denying how handsome he looks, nor how happy he seems.

“Well, I’ve had enough of parties to last a lifetime.” Margaret puffs a strand of wavy, dark hair from her face, appearing at my right, where she places her empty tray on the edge of the buffet table. With Annie attending the ball with her mother, Margaret was relieved of her duties as nanny for the evening, serving alongside the catering staff instead. I toss her the piece of taffy Father gave me, and her lips quirk into a somewhat sad smile. “Split three ways, then?”

Charlie’s voice comes from behind. “Make it four.” The three of us turn to find him carrying a tray bearing four glasses of bloodred wine. He grins, his cheeks rosy. “Care for a drink?”

Margaret’s eyes flash as she divides the candy. “Charlie—we can’t—”

“Of course you can,” Killian says from across the buffet table. He flourishes his own glass. “I insist.”

Margaret blushes, her jaw agape. “But—”

“The man insists, Marge.” Lewis quickly sets his own tray at the edge of the table, rubbing his hands together mischievously. He plucks a meager piece of taffy from Margaret’s palm and pops it into his mouth. “Bottoms up.”

He reaches for a glass, but Charlie angles himself so that Lewis can’t reach it.

“First,” Charlie admonishes, “we toast.”

Margaret gives Charlie and me our pieces of taffy. It tastes of sea salt and vanilla, the flavor more vibrant than it ever was before.

“To Owen,” I say, taking a glass from the tray.

“To Owen,” Margaret, Lewis, and Charlie echo before turning their glasses up and drinking them to the dregs.

“To Owen,” Killian chimes in, clinking my glass.

The wine goes down smooth, settling like a comfortable warmth in the pit of my stomach. Despite everything that’s happened—despite Owen’s absence—this moment, drinking our customary glass of red wine on the eve of Reckoning Day, the four of us, together… it’s more than I could ever have hoped for. It almost feels as if we’re back aboard the Lightbringer —as if Owen were watching us from above, in the crow’s nest, toasting to himself.

For the first time since Owen’s death, I smile at the thought of him at peace among the Stars, looking down at us, smiling back.

I turn to ask Killian if he’s seen Henry, but he’s already gone. A hush falls over the room, and I realize the guests have turned their attention to the makeshift dais near the front of the crowd, where Lord Bludgrave stands with Lady Isabelle at his side.

“Thank you all for joining us this evening,” Lord Bludgrave booms, his kind face full of warmth. “As I’m sure most of you are aware, my son William has just returned from Hellion.” Applause breaks out, and Lord Bludgrave graciously signals for the guests to quiet. “Yes, we’re all very proud of him.”

“Unfortunately,” Lady Isabelle cuts in, her sweet voice carrying over the room with ease, “while our son was away, fighting alongside the League of Seven, our beloved township was attacked.”

“No need to worry,” Lord Bludgrave adds, his expression serious. “Measures have been taken to ensure your safety here tonight. My wife and I thought it only right to take this time to condemn such violence and to tell you the truth of what took place.”

Lord Bludgrave pauses as hushed murmurs trickle through the crowd.

“A criminal known by the name Malachi Shade led a brutal attack that resulted in an unacceptable loss of life—both our kind, and the humans,” he says, his head bowed slightly. “Tonight, we honor their deaths with a moment of silence.”

At this, murmuring turns to grumbling, and I feel the sudden urge to crawl under the buffet table. Why would Lord Bludgrave lie? Surely there were witnesses in Ink Haven that day—those who saw what Percy and his Hounds did and how the humans were merely protecting themselves against his gang of murderous criminals. Why blame Captain Shade?

“I would also like to honor the bravery of my son Henry,” Lord Bludgrave booms, regaining a measure of control over the crowd, “as well as that of one of our most valued servants, Aster Oberon, who—now, where is Aster?”

I try to take a deep breath, to raise my hand, but I can’t move. Beside me, Margaret looks as if she’s seen a ghost. Lewis steps on my foot, and a sound escapes me. Every head in the ballroom turns to find me.

I feel faint as Henry hooks my arm in his. “Here, Father,” he calls out. He adds under his breath, “Just smile.”

But my face feels broken as I force a weak, pathetic excuse for a smile, and Henry pats my hand reassuringly.

“Ah, yes,” Lord Bludgrave says. I can’t help noticing the sweat beading on his forehead, and the way his hand trembles slightly as he raises his glass. “Aster Oberon and her family were once pirates of the Western Sea—”

He has hardly said the words when the ballroom erupts into furious whispers. I can feel the heat of their glares as Henry adjusts his stance so that he’s standing slightly in front of me. But the heat—the heat I feel radiates from Henry.

“—but they have since been reformed to the king’s service,” Lord Bludgrave calls out, competing with the chatter of the crowd. “And tonight, our dear prince has made it official. The Oberon family is protected by the King’s Marque. We welcome them into the Eerie, pirates no more. And we extend our gratitude to Aster, who served her king and country by stamping out the vile rebellion that threatened our tranquil valley.”

A single, slow clap breaks up the mumbling and grumbling. All eyes turn from me at once to find Titus near the dais, leading the applause as it slowly creeps through the room. I get the feeling that if Titus stood on his head, no one in this household would be left standing on two feet.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why a human girl was invited to celebrate alongside you this evening,” Titus says smoothly, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his arm. “When I heard of what transpired in Ink Haven, and the courage of Ms. Oberon, I suggested that the Castors include her in tonight’s festivities. I’m pleased they took me up on the suggestion. Though, I was surprised to see Aster in a ball gown, as some of you may recall.”

Another lie, but a necessary one. If people hear that it was the prince’s idea to invite a human—a reformed pirate, at that—to the Castors’ Reckoning Day Ball, it could remove the blame from the Castors altogether. After all, who would deny the prince?

A few nervous chuckles throughout the room only add to the tension, but Titus carries on seemingly without care. “A toast, to the guest of honor,” he says, raising his own glass. “May you always be loyal and brave. And may the sun of the Eerie shine upon your face from today until your last day. To Aster!”

“To Aster!”

I’m surprised when the crowd echoes the words, and though most look reluctant, others begin to cheer. Meanwhile, the prince climbs onto the dais as Lord Bludgrave and Lady Isabelle make their way down the steps, giving Titus the spotlight.

As he steps into the beam of light, fear grips my chest. If Captain Shade were to make an appearance, now would be the time to strike. But I can’t help thinking it wouldn’t make sense for the rumors to be true, for Shade to attack the prince. Especially now that I know Titus is working with the Order. If Shade is Will’s informant, wouldn’t Will know better than anybody if Shade had plans to assassinate the heir to the throne? And if so, why allow Henry and me to believe otherwise?

“William?” Titus shields his eyes, searching the room. The crowd parts to reveal Will lingering near the wall, the same two women from earlier this evening clinging to each arm. “Ladies, would you mind handing him over? It will only take a minute.”

The crowd laughs, but as Will peels himself from the wall and leaves the two women pouting in his wake, I see no humor in his face.

“My brother-in-arms, William,” Titus says, clasping Will’s hand and pulling him onto the dais to stand at his side, “has, indeed, only just returned from our journey to Hellion, where had it not been for him, we might not have succeeded in securing the eastern borders of my betrothed’s homeland—the first front against the Underling forces.” He pauses, letting the applause die out. “When asked to join me, Lord Castor answered the call of the Crown, and for that, I couldn’t be more grateful. But tonight, I have another request to make.”

My stomach clenches. Last time the prince made a request of Will, he left for war a charming boy and came home a haunted man.

“Soon, I am to be wed,” Titus continues. “Lord Castor and I have faced many battles together, and I couldn’t imagine facing marriage without my most trusted friend there at my side.” He turns to Will, a cheeky smile playing on his lips. “Lord William Castor of Ink Haven, defender of the Eerie, would you do me the honor of being my best man?”

Will grins, and at once the shadows of war flee from his face, his green eyes bright as he embraces Titus. The people seem to have forgotten all about me—the pirate-turned-servant who somehow intruded upon their celebration—as they break out in deafening applause.

Will withdraws, taking a glass of sparkling wine from Sybil’s tray as she hovers nearby. “To the prince and princess!”

As Will brings the glass to his lips, his eyes find mine, that curious, questioning look I’ve come to know so well seeking me out from across the room. His shirtsleeve bunches to reveal a band of braided leather encircling his wrist. My bracelet.

My heart leaps. Has he been wearing it this whole time?

I lift my glass as the crowd converges once more to part us, just as the ocean between Hellion and the Eerie separated us for the past three months. When I look around, I see that Lewis, Margaret, and Charlie have returned to their duties before I could notice they were gone, but thankfully, I am not alone.

Henry clears his throat, untangling his arm from mine. “That should smooth things over for the time being.”

I take a weary breath. “How much longer until sunrise?”

“Bored of the revelry already, pirate?” he asks, turning to face me. There’s something about the way he refers to me as a pirate, still, that warms my heart. His eyes widen, and he laughs, wiping flour from my cheek. “Stars, Aster, what happened to you?”

“It’s nothing, I—”

A splash of liquid washes my vision red and I gasp, choking as it fills my nostrils.

Blood. I’m covered in blood. But whose blood? I can’t see—I can’t—

A female voice sends me spiraling into panic as a single, life-altering word pierces me like a knife, twisting deep.

“Treason!”