Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
LYRA
When I find myself standing in front of Casimir’s chamber door, I’m filled with the strangest sense of exhilaration.
I’ve never been to Talderine, so it is with an odd anticipation I await getting to see it for the first time.
I’m also curious to know what event we are attending, who is hosting, and hopefully learn the identity of whoever it is that located Casimir.
There are also the other swirling branches of thoughts I have—all the other possibilities that may bloom from tonight.
Freedom.
Just one second of the stars aligning, and I could potentially find a way out of this whole mess. To get away from Casimir and back to Bathara.
Yet the thought is instantly met with the weight of two others. What if he comes for me just like he did last time, murdering more and more people? And why do I feel oddly saddened by the thought of never seeing Neilina again—never giving this place or its people the proper chance it deserved?
The door swings open—my fist hovering midair—and I nearly suck in a gasp at the sight of Casimir. Though, I manage not to—thank the Mother. I simply lift a brow at him instead. “Shouldn’t we be attempting to go unnoticed this evening?”
Even through his mask, I make out his frown. “What do you mean?”
My brows lift higher at his seemingly genuine confusion.
“I mean, you are going to draw every eye in the gods-damn room dressed like that. Trust me, I’ve worked plenty of balls, and I know what type of looks get the most attention.
” I make a show of sweeping my eyes over him.
“And you? You are definitely going to get a lot of attention.”
He is dressed in a finer suit than anything I’ve ever seen.
The black fabric is like silk, yet…not. Again leading me to wonder for a second time what material his clothes are made from.
His fitted tailcoat is adorned with gold embroidery which trails along the outer lengths of the jacket, glittering subtly beneath the light.
It whorls until meeting a floral pattern, and I’m struck with the oddest hunch that the design is intentional.
His hair is half-drawn, held in place by a leather band the exact shade of his attire, and covering the upper-portion of his face is a sparkling amber and onyx mask, decadently crafted and undeniably beautiful.
Leaving me to believe my prior teases of him may actually be correct…
I think he truly does love fashion.
He sighs, the sound long and deep in his chest. “Well, there’s no time for me to change now, so let’s just hope I can slip in, have my meeting, and then we can be on our way.”
I scoff a laugh. “I have a sneaking suspicion it won’t be that simple.”
“Nothing ever is.” He nods toward the door, beckoning me inside. “Come on. I’ll open the portal from in here.”
I stroll inside while Casimir holds the door for me, scanning my surroundings.
The room looks practically unchanged from when I last saw it.
Almost unnervingly so. His onyx sheets appear to be bunched exactly as they were when I saw them the night after the death ceremony, and the inkwell and parchments scattered along his writing desk against the far wall are in the exact same order as before.
Odd.
I feel Casimir behind me before I see him. Whirling around, I find him watching me, the mask removed from his face and instead clutched between his fingers. He studies me, but not in any way that makes me feel uncomfortable.
“I assumed that would be the dress you chose.”
“Oh?” I say through a laugh. “As if you know my tastes in gowns so well?”
He shakes his head, a small curve lifting one side of his mouth. “No,” he counters. “I just also thought it was the most fitting for you.”
I hum, eyeing him.
“Would you like a drink?” He struts over to the unlit hearth and reaches for a crystal decanter, popping off the glittering top and pouring a light amber liquid into two wide glasses. Wordlessly, he strolls back to me and extends one of them out for me to take.
“I never said yes.”
“I know,” is his only reply. He stretches the glass out further.
I flick my eyes between him and the drink, releasing a quiet sigh as I decide why the hell not. I take it from his hand and down it all in one gulp, the burning sensation permeating through my body nearly instantly. Casimir watches me, his brow raised.
“What?” I quip. “Never seen a woman down a drink before?”
“No.” A light chuckle fills the word. “I most certainly have. It’s just…been a long time.” He swirls the liquid around his glass, then, in a similar fashion, downs the whole thing in one gulp.
Wordlessly, he reaches to take the glass from my hand—tingling warmth already spreading to my fingertips—and he returns them to the mantle, seemingly deciding to attend to them later. Once he is back in front of me, he locks his gaze onto mine and hums, as if considering something.
“What is it?” I ask.
Still not saying anything, he steps forward and reaches down toward my fingertips. My heart quickens, and my cheeks again flush—though most likely from the potent liquor I just downed.
“Relax,” he breathes, seeming to sense how rigid I’ve become. His fingertips wrap around the mask I’ve been clutching in my hand all this time, and he takes it into his own hand, holding it up and waving it around in the air as if to say that is all he wanted.
My muscles ease, and though I manage not to hunch in relief, I do exhale a loosening breath. Casimir eyes me a moment longer, then inspects the mask.
“You should put this on now. Once I open the portal, we will step through and at once be met by someone attending to the arrangements I have made. I do not want so much as a glimpse of our identities getting out.”
“Arrangements?”
He returns the mask to me, and I pull it over my face while keeping my eyes carefully on him.
“Given the distance and nature of this particular trip, it requires a lot of magic from me,” he explains.
“Since I do not know precisely what we are walking into nor who we are dealing with, I’d like to give myself time to replenish a bit of my magical resources beforehand. ”
“Alright,” I draw out, my expression pinched.
“I’m correct in thinking you’ve never been to Talderine, yes?”
The wrinkles in my brows deepen. “Yes,” I answer, tone tentative. “Well, I guess I mean no—I haven’t.”
“Perfect.”
We step through Casimir’s portal and are met by a large, powder-blue carriage featuring two beautiful white-speckled horses.
The wheels and spokes of the carriage are golden, its seats plush and red-leathered. A driver is already propped up in the driver’s box, the horses’ reins clutched in his white-gloved hands. Two gilded lanterns rest on each side of him, and when he turns toward us, he jumps as if startled.
“Oh!” he squeaks. “I beg pardon. I didn’t see you arrive.” His accent is funny. A mixture of posh and poverty.
Casimir inclines his head to the man. “We only just got here.”
“Ah.” The man eyes him for a good moment, seeming to weigh a question in his mind. Whatever it is, though, he doesn’t ask. Instead, he shifts, making to get up from his seat to open the carriage door for us.
Casimir stops him. “No need,” he says, voice soft. “I have got it.”
The man dips his chin and resettles himself back into his seat. “Are your plans still the same for the evening, Lord Christopher?”
Casimir props open the carriage door and extends his hand out to me. “They are.”
I step toward him and place my hand in his, glancing at him pointedly. “Lord Christopher?” I ask under my breath, the tiniest laugh caressing my words.
He shrugs, the gesture nearly imperceptible.
“I needed a name to use,” he whispers back.
“Now be quiet about it and do not blow my cover.” There is a playful glint resting in his eyes that I haven’t seen before, and I can’t help but snort a laugh at it.
He straightens, his smile showing teeth now.
“M’lady,” he drawls, inclining his head as he helps me up the step.
I roll my eyes but accept the aid and enter into the carriage. Once he’s taken up his seat directly next to me and the carriage door is closed behind us, I regard him with teasing disapproval. “Is all of this really necessary?”
“It is.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see in just a moment.”
The reins snap and there is a click of the driver’s tongue.
The wheels groan as they start their journey along the cobblestone streets, and the horse’s hooves clop against the rock in a soothing melody.
A spicy, woodsy scent floods the carriage, wafting from Casimir.
It is peppery and warm, a mixture of musk and vanilla.
I glance at him, studying his features, realizing just how deeply he confuses me as a person.
He is soft where he is rough. He is bloodthirsty where he works for peace.
He is kind where he is cruel. He cares deeply while not caring for humanity at all.
Is optimistic while losing his faith entirely.
A man who I’m convinced loves fashion. A man who loves his family; a man who loves nothing.
How can one person be all those things simultaneously?
Catching my attention, Casimir turns his chin to look at me. “What?”
My question comes from seemingly nowhere, unexpected yet demanding. “What are you searching for in the Veil? Why do you have me enter it every week?”
A flash of surprise flickers through his eyes. “What made you think of that?”
“I’m always thinking about it,” I answer honestly.