Chapter Twenty-Eight
On Saturday evening, after a follow-up dress fitting and a trip back to Freya’s house, we were ready to begin Plan B (“For Brilliant!” I’d exclaimed; “For Bonkers,” Bri countered).
She looked radiant in her oxblood gown and cloak, and I looked as wan as usual in my plain wool dress and scraggly braid.
“Are you sure about this?” Bri asked me, though she was admiring herself in the mirror, twisting this way and that, and I suspected she’d refuse to give up the dress even if I told her I’d changed my mind.
“Absolutely not,” I mumbled. I’d stuffed my pockets with oregano and lemon thyme to ward off Mrs. Monroe’s cats, and I smelled like I was about to be rubbed onto a lamb chop and roasted over a spit. Though if this went south, I doubted I’d have the luxury of being cooked before becoming cat food.
The faux dragon egg was in the satchel from Wexley, too bulky to go into my pockets without creating an awkward bulge. I’d stayed up for hours last night memorizing the blueprints of the mansion, and I knew my route by heart, but I still didn’t like my odds of making it out alive.
Torion met us out front in a carriage, another apparent invitee to Mrs. Monroe’s ball. That was one of the upsides to my hare-brained scheme: so many people from Azure Cay were attending that I should be able to sneak around unnoticed.
As soon as we climbed into the carriage, Torion gave me a confused look. “That’s what you’re planning to wear to the Chancellor’s ball?” he asked, leaning forward and sniffing. “What is that smell?”
“She’s using my invitation,” I said, gesturing to Bri. “I’m going in the back way. I’ll explain about the smell after, if I make it out.”
He shook his head and looked at Bri. “How did a nice young lady like you get mixed up with this one?” he asked her.
“It’s a very long story,” she replied.
“I imagine it is. Well, I suppose it will make the evening far more interesting should you get eaten, Miss Stokes.” He smiled, revealing two golden teeth.
“Har-har.” I touched the egg through the satchel, praying it was a good enough dupe to buy us time to get off the Cay. “Do you know if the cats are usually roaming at parties, or will there be more conventional security tonight?”
“I haven’t seen the cats in years past, but I imagine they’re always there. And yes, there will be heightened security.”
Of course there will. Well, there was nothing for it now.
If I didn’t return to Ardmuir with the genuine egg, I wouldn’t get Mr. Wexley’s collection, and I wouldn’t be able to break Bri’s curse.
There was no Plan C, despite all the scenarios I’d run through my head last night, praying for a last-minute flash of brilliance. This had to work.
We pulled into a queue of carriages, giving me several minutes to work my nerves into an absolute frenzy. I remembered the way those cats had licked their chops and could only pray the cat-repelling herbs did the trick. Otherwise, I’d be dinner, and Bri would have very little time to escape.
“Come on,” Torion said, opening the carriage door when we came to a stop in front of the courtyard.
He waited for Bri to descend the steps while I scrambled out the other side, keeping to the shadows.
I watched as the two of them crossed the courtyard, eventually blending in with the other guests.
I said a silent prayer for Bri and me both.
I already knew from the blueprints that there was a large garden surrounding the mansion, which seemed like my best cover for sneaking in.
I kept to the trees as I skirted the perimeter, hardly daring to breathe.
The night air was frigid, and I had to clench my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering.
Normally I would have worn a cloak, but I needed to be as unencumbered as possible tonight.
Besides, I was sweating from anxiety, and a cloak would no doubt have made me overheat once I was inside.
I made my way to the servants’ entrance in the back and plucked a cap and apron from a clothesline, hastily putting them on. I waited several minutes until a maid and valet came outside to smoke and used the opportunity to slink through the open door.
I had arrived in the kitchen, which was bustling with activity.
Where had all these people been the other night?
Probably down here toiling away as they were now, I thought.
I earned confused looks from several servants, but fortunately no one had time to deal with an unfamiliar maid.
I suspected Mrs. Monroe was an exacting employer, and it was clear that no one wanted to make a mistake tonight.
According to the blueprints, the kennels where the cats slept were at the other end of the house. Farther from the servants’ quarters, and much closer to the dragon egg. Not that it mattered. Wildcats were nocturnal, and there was no way they wouldn’t be prowling tonight.
I was grateful that I could cross most of the way through the mansion via the servants’ halls, because it meant I didn’t have to worry about standing out.
The true test would be when I entered the chamber housing the egg, which would undoubtedly have people milling about.
Part of the reason Monroe hosted these balls was to show off to the rest of the citizens of Azure Cay.
The hall ended in a staircase leading up to the main floor of the mansion. I pulled my cap low over my ears, hiding as much of my hair as possible, and ascended the staircase.
I was spat out into a wide hallway lined with portraits, presumably of Monroe’s family. A rather stodgy lot, the sort of people who looked down on scaff like me. I walked as quickly as I dared without drawing more attention to myself, counting doors until I reached the chamber that housed the egg.
The door was open, and there were indeed about half a dozen people there.
Marble statues were scattered about the chamber.
The egg rested on a satin pillow atop a pedestal in the center of the room.
Unlike the fake dragon egg in my satchel, this one seemed lit from within, emitting a soft glow.
It was beautiful, and I could almost feel the pull of its power from where I stood in the shadow of the doorway.
Everyone was rapt, all their focus on the egg, which made it easier for me to slip into the room unnoticed and duck behind a statue of a man slaying a lion. Rather an odd choice for a woman who kept large felines as pets.
I had my eyes peeled for the cats, knowing I couldn’t rely on my hearing to detect them. If they were anything like Achnarachian wildcats, they were ambush predators, leaping on their unsuspecting prey from above. I couldn’t see any of them, but that didn’t mean they weren’t nearby.
I took a deep breath and surveyed the room. I spotted one guard standing in the far corner who didn’t seem to have noticed me, but there was no way I’d be able to swap the egg out with him here. This all depended on Bri and her distraction, which wouldn’t happen for another twenty minutes.
I hunkered down behind the statue, hoping no one decided to take a cheeky peek at its marble backside, and waited.
The plan was relatively simple, or at least I hoped it was.
I’d spotted several items I believed were magical in the Chancellor’s collection, including some skulls of animals I couldn’t identify and a colony of green mushrooms with yellow spots under a glass cloche.
All Bri had to do was touch these objects and hope that at least one of them caused a commotion.
Then she was to sneak out immediately while I stole the egg.
“What if you don’t make it out?” she’d asked me last night, after we went over the plan for the dozenth time.
“You get to the docks and use the rest of the gold to buy passage home,” I told her. “Whatever you do, don’t wait around for me. Someone has to make it back and take care of Argyle.”
“And Fin?” she asked from the cot. She’d given me the bed for the night, despite my protests.
“Finlay can take care of himself.”
Bri had propped herself up on one elbow, glaring at me in the lamplight. “You’re still going to pretend you don’t have feelings for him? After everything?”
“What difference does it make?” I twisted my braid until it pulled at my scalp. “Once he finds out that I lied to both of you about this trip—”
“He’ll understand once you tell him the truth. Just like I did.”
I shook my head. “He won’t. He would never lie, even if it was for a good reason.” The truth was, Finlay would never put himself in a position where he needed to lie.
“All right, suppose we do both make it back and we give Mr. Wexley the egg and we break the curse and I head back home to Carterra. Then what?”
“That’s a whole lot of supposition,” I grumbled.
“You’re just going to spend the rest of your life running that shoppe all by yourself, with no one but a cat for company?”
I scoffed. “Argyle is excellent company.”
“Willow.”
“Bri.”
We stared at each other until I caved and pulled my pillow over my head. “Ugh, fine! I have feelings for Finlay! But it still doesn’t matter because he’s too good for me!”
“I knew it!” Bri said, laughing in triumph. “I knew it, I knew it!”
I groaned under the pillow. “Stop, please. I can’t take it.”
It was too late. She was already singing a song about Finlay and me kissing in a tree and having lots of wee bairns. I plugged my ears with my fingers and sang over her, but inside, I couldn’t help feeling a slight twinge of hope that maybe somehow this would all work out. All we needed—
Suddenly, there was a loud bang down the hallway, followed by screams and shouts, and I was rudely dragged from my fantasy of snogging Finlay in a tree.
What had Bri done? Part of me was tempted to follow the guests and the guard as he ushered everyone out of the room, but I couldn’t leave now. Not when the egg was so close. I waited another minute to be sure no one was coming, the blood pounding in my ears, and made my move.
I was half convinced I’d set off some sort of invisible alarm when I plucked the egg from its pedestal, but the sound of pandemonium remained distant. I let out a little whoop of astonishment and relief as I stashed the egg and turned to the door.
Where two of the Chancellor’s cats stood, growling low in their throats like distant thunder.
“Oh, shite.”
The largest cat hung back while the smaller crouched low and began to stalk me. I glanced at the window from the corner of my eye, wondering if I had any hope of making it, but by the time I got one leg out, I’d have a wildcat making a meal of the other.
“Easy, kitty,” I cooed as I began to back toward the wall. The cat continued to stalk me as I edged around the room toward the door, where the larger cat still waited. There was no way I could get past both.
Before I could start to think of any other options, the smaller cat sprang. It was upon me so quickly I found myself pinned to the wall, its massive paws on either shoulder, reeking breath hot on my face.
I closed my eyes, ready to meet my fate, when the cat let out a violent sneeze, covering me in wet, salty mucus. Its claws retracted and it backed away, still sneezing and pawing at its nose.
The herbs seemed to be working. I said a silent prayer of thanks to Freya, because I’d witnessed my life flash briefly before my eyes and it was far too short, with not nearly enough kissing.
I moved toward the door where the larger cat lingered, though it looked warier than it had before.
Fortunately, I had one final trick up my sleeve.
Literally. I took out the wad of catnip Freya had given me and hurled it toward the pedestal.
The cat immediately leapt after it, though I didn’t pause to watch it roll around on its back in delight.
I sprinted for the door, careening down the hallway with the dragon egg thumping against my hip.
Unfortunately, I’d forgotten about the servants’ hall. Instead, I now found myself in the midst of a crowd of guests, all as confused as I was.
“What happened?” I asked a man who was spinning in circles, staring at his feet.
“Mice!” he shrieked. Frankly, mice would have been a welcome alternative to giant bloodthirsty cats, but I didn’t see anything scurrying about the floor, and none of the nearby guests seemed to share his concerns.
Instead, another was scrubbing at his skin with his hands, muttering something about a rash that was either invisible or imagined.
A woman in a pink gown was blinking repeatedly, and another woman in a floral monstrosity was batting at the air like a kitten with a butterfly.
What in the world had happened to these people? Fortunately for me, they were too distracted to worry about a maid scuttling around between them. I made for the front door, praying that Bri had made it out. The door was open, the night air calling to me. I just had to make it a little farther.
A scream stopped me in my tracks. I turned to see Bri being apprehended by two guards who gripped her roughly by her arms as she struggled. I could only imagine her horror at being touched by two strangers like this, and my heart clenched.
“That’s the girl who caused this!” the little manservant, Bellwether, screeched.
Behind him, a beautiful middle-aged woman in a blue-and-green tartan gown was watching the entire scene unfold with very little reaction.
That must be the infamous Mrs. Monroe. I could have guessed from her name that she was Achnarachian, but the dress confirmed it.
Then I saw it: the glass dome covering the green mushrooms was smashed on the ground, the mushrooms themselves scattered like refuse. I could surmise the rest. They must have released their magic spores when Bri lifted the cloche, causing hallucinations among the guests.
For one desperate moment, Bri and I locked eyes.
“Go!” she mouthed at me, and I could still feel the cold night air behind me, the siren song of freedom ringing in my ears.
Instead, I ran toward her.