Chapter 2
Two
ALLETTE
My boots meet the balcony outside my bedroom at the same time I hear my name hissed from the balcony below.
“Lady Marjory has been looking for you!” my friend Wynn calls up to me, exasperation infecting her tone.
Of all the days for my aunt to seek me out.
I hurry inside, past my unmade bed, to the door. Perhaps Aunt Marjory won’t realize?—
My great-aunt waits on the other side, sea-foam-green eyes narrowed behind the thick glasses perched on the end of her hooked nose. Her white hair has been pinned back so tight, I swear it smooths away some of the deep wrinkles across her forehead. “I sent that useless maid to find you ages ago. Where have you been?”
Wynn appears from behind the door leading to the central staircase. Her cheeks are probably flushed—not that I can see them from behind the mask and hood all household servants are required to wear.
Hearing my aunt call Wynn useless makes my teeth grind. As if my friend deserves to take the fall for my tardiness. “She did find me, Aunty, but it took me a moment to get dressed.”
My aunt’s eyebrows arch toward her widow’s peak. An apt name considering the woman has buried three husbands in her almost two hundred years alive. “Heavens above, Allette. It’s half four in the afternoon. Why weren’t you dressed?”
Because I’ve spent the last two hours tangled up with my one true love. “Well, you see, I was dressed but needed to change because I spilled…um…um…”
Wynn pinches her thumb and forefinger together but keeps her little finger out as she tilts an imaginary cup toward where her lips hide behind that infernal mask.
“Tea!” I shout. “I spilled my tea.” Definitely sounds like something I’d do.
My aunt’s cane cracks against the stone floor. “Clumsy child.”
Who is she calling a child? I turned nineteen last week.
“Back in my day, we never spilled anything. Careless. That is what you are.”
How silly of me to forget. My great-aunt has never ever spilled a thing because she is perfect, and anything less than perfection will not be tolerated. How will you get a husband if you spill tea, Allette? Think of the scandal!
“I will try harder,” I say, my smile as brittle as the old bat’s bones.
“See that you do. No man wants a careless wife.”
And no woman wants a husband she doesn’t care for. Wonder what she’d do if I spoke that thought aloud?
From behind my aunt’s shoulder, Wynn’s hand opens and closes, mimicking the elderly woman like a puppet. I hide my laughter behind a cough. Heaven forbid I find anything funny. Men do not wish for their wives to laugh like empty-headed dolts . At least, that is what my aunt claims.
But I know for a fact that Senan loves my laugh. So much so that he has made it his mission to make me laugh as often as possible.
If I must marry someone else, I hope the two of us can laugh together. My mother and father were always laughing.
Aunt Marjory’s cold, knobby fingers slip around my wrist. “Speaking of men, tomorrow night, Lord Windell is coming for dinner. I expect you to be on time and wearing proper attire.”
I can’t seem to get a bloody break. Listening to Lord Windell talk is as interesting as watching a pot of tea cool. Still, I owe it to my aunt to at least feign interest in the young men she thinks will make a good match for me. After all, she graciously paid my tuition at the academy and gave me a place to live when I graduated.
I bob my head like the dutiful charge she wants me to be. “Yes, Aunt Marjory.”
She proceeds to tell me what she expects me to wear and how to fix my hair. Apparently, I am incapable of making my own decisions, and my jerkin makes me look like I have no breasts. I do have breasts, they’re just small. And a certain prince is quite enamored with them, so I’m not at all worried about whether or not Lord Windell gets a good gander.
My hair shall be up and out of my face—because my high cheekbones are my best feature, and one cannot properly appreciate said cheekbones if they’re hidden by my “wild mane.”
After her tirade, she thankfully leaves me to my own devices. Wynn bobs a curtsy as the tyrant passes. The moment the old crow disappears, I catch Wynn’s hand and drag her into my chambers.
“Where have you been hiding?” Wynn asks under her breath. “I climbed every bloody stair in this tower and couldn’t find you. And don’t say your room because I checked in here twice.”
“Sorry. I was on the roof.”
“Again? Heavens, Allette, if you keep sunning yourself, you’ll be the most powerful woman in all the realm.”
If only Scathian magic worked like that. Yes, the sun refuels our elemental powers, but only to a certain point. Not that I expect her to understand the intricacies of magic since she is Tuath and wields none.
She gives my shoulder a rattling shake. “Are you excited? I bet you’re ecstatic. I would be if it were me.”
“Oh, yes. I cannot wait to see Lord Windell again.” The last time he called, he brought me a “lucky” rabbit’s foot. Not flowers. Not chocolates. A limb from a dead animal. If that doesn’t scream love, I don’t know what does.
“Maybe he’ll give you the other foot so you can have a matching pair. And the next time he visits, he can bring the third one. Soon, you’ll have an entire animal! You’ve always wanted a pet.”
I flop onto the bed with a groan. “Not funny, Wynn.” And honestly, I wouldn’t put it past him. All the man talks about is hunting or his “impressive” collection of flintlock pistols. Last month, he asked if I wanted to shoot my own rabbit.
Imagine murdering a poor, helpless bunny.
Giggling, Wynn sinks down next to me. “It is sort of funny. But I wasn’t talking about the bunny-killer.” She falls back with a whimsical sigh. “In a few hours, you’ll be in an entirely different world.”
“I know.”
Her finger needles my ribs, forcing me to squirm away. “I’m going to need a bit more ‘this is the best night of my life’ and less ‘I’m heading to my own funeral.’ It’s Samhain , Allette. The night you’ve been dreaming about since you turned five has finally arrived.”
She has a point. I need to snap out of this mood and be happy. But sometimes it’s difficult to enjoy today when you’re dreading tomorrow. And it’s not only tomorrow I’m dreading; it’s the next two weeks. “Take off that mask. It feels like I’m talking to one of those marble statues in the park.”
Wynn tugs down the mesh barrier, revealing a pair of stunning gray eyes surrounded by thick, dark lashes. Smiling, she brushes away the solitary silver curl peeking from beneath her black hood.
“I wish you could come with me.” Unfortunately, the portal empties into the humans’ sky, and without wings, she’d never survive the fall. I could’ve asked one of my boarding school friends, but they’re not nearly as fun as Wynn. Besides, they’d probably turn up their noses at having to cover their perfect faces for some common festival among human peasants.
For me, tonight isn’t only about experiencing a new world. It’s an opportunity to become someone else. Anyone else. How magical is that?
Wynn laces her gloved hand with mine, squeezing my fingers.
“You know, I could always carry you,” I say, only half joking.
Her carefree laughter brings a smile back to my face. “Your aunt may be willing to bail you out of prison, but I doubt she would do the same for me.”
I’m not entirely sure Aunt Marjory would bail me out if I were arrested, but that is neither here nor there. Flying with an adult passenger is technically illegal for anyone besides the guards, but if we don’t get caught…
The more I think about it, the more I realize this could actually work.
I roll onto my side to face Wynn, gauging her reaction. “No one needs to know. We could wait until everyone is gone and return to our realm well before sunrise.” Stars, why didn’t I think of this sooner?
Wynn bites at her bottom lip.
I know that look. She’s considering it.
I launch to my feet and go straight to my armoire, dragging out a spare pair of leathers, a black shirt, and a jerkin with a hood. “Here.” I drop the clothes onto her lap. “Wear these, but bring your warmest dress and cloak. And a mop cap to hide your ears and hair. We can meet outside the servants’ entrance at midnight and go down to the portal together.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Wynn tugs the mask hanging loosely around her neck.
Right. She needs a mask so she doesn’t stand out at the celebration—and not the kind she wears with her uniform. An animal or ghoul of some sort. Unfortunately, the shops that sell such things will surely be closed by now.
There must be something around here that she can use. Maybe Aunt Marjory has a mask tucked away somewhere.
The thought makes me chuckle. That old crow probably hasn’t had a day of fun in her life. No way would she have gone through that portal when she was younger and risked spilling something.
Think, Allette. Think .
My mother went through.
Her stories of visiting the human world with my father are what made me so obsessed with Samhain in the first place. Perhaps there is an old mask hidden in her box of keepsakes. I pace back over to my closet and drag out box after box until I find the one with my mother’s handwriting across the top. Inside are a few trinkets from when she was a child and some costume jewelry I remember wearing when I used to play dress up. And there, at the very bottom, sits an iridescent purple and blue peacock mask.
The craftsmanship, the colors, the faux gemstones around the eyes. Exquisite .
I’ve been to all the shops and never saw one as stunning.
When I show the mask to Wynn, her mouth falls open.
“I’ll wear this one and you can use mine.” I swap the peacock mask for the one already packed in my rucksack, handing the hand-painted black cat mask to my friend.
Wynn is back to worrying her bottom lip as she turns the mask over in her hand. “I still don’t know. We could get into a lot of trouble.”
True. But it’ll be worth it. Besides, we aren’t children anymore. We know how to move around without getting caught. Two weeks ago, I accompanied her to a pub in the city. While that wasn’t exactly illegal, if my aunt had found out, she’d have had a conniption.
“Come on, Wynn. What good is a life without a bit of risk?” There is no telling what will happen in the next year. If Aunt Marjory has her way, I’ll be marching down the aisle by spring. And if my darling husband-to-be doesn’t approve of his wife gallivanting with humans every Samhain, this may be our only chance. “Do you want to go?”
“Is that even a question? I’ve wanted to go ever since I was a little girl.”
“Then we must make it happen.” I feel like it’s my duty to convince her. All she does is eat, sleep, and breathe work, leaving very little time for fun or laughter or life outside this tower. She deserves to be someone else for one night even more than I do. “Look, if we get caught, I swear to use my inheritance to bail us both out of prison.”
Wynn hesitates for only a moment more before her gray eyes lift to mine, and she grins. “All right, Allette. We shall go through the portal together.”
I manage to survive the longest dinner of my life without Aunt Marjory commenting on the way I squirm and keep glancing at the grandfather clock. Thankfully, my aunt follows her normal routine and retires at nine o’clock, leaving me to pace in my room until right before midnight.
Dressed in all black, I tie on my mask and collect the bag I packed. A warm breeze flutters my loose hair when I step onto the balcony just as a silver beam of starlight shoots into the twinkling night sky, a beacon calling daring souls into the great unknown.
The portal is officially open.
With adrenaline pulsing through my veins, I drop the glamour I wear most days, and my wings appear through the slits in my shirt and jerkin, the cerulean feathers fluttering.
For years, I’ve read and researched and dreamed of the human realm.
Tonight, I’ll finally see it.
I climb to the balcony’s edge and fall into the night. My stomach flips as I hurtle toward the puffy clouds ringing the lower half of my aunt’s tower. When their cool dampness kisses my cheeks, my wings snap out, and I coast to the empty street far below.
Stars, I love flying. I really should do it more often.
The problem is, most days, I’ve nowhere to go.
Fae lights flicker farther down the road, highlighting the way to the city. My eyes take a few moments to adjust to the murky darkness. When they do, I notice a dark figure lurking in my peripherals.
“Wynn? Is that you?”
The person doesn’t respond.
I step closer to where the figure stood only to find the space empty. “Come on, Wynn. This isn’t funny.”
Something tugs on my hood. I whirl, but the street behind me is empty as well. The hairs at the back of my neck lift, and a shuffling sound scrapes against my ears. Before I can turn, a hand clamps across my mouth, stifling my shocked cry. I buck and thrash, but it’s no use. Shadows close in on me as I’m dragged into the alley.
If I cannot escape, I may not make it out alive.