Chapter Thirty-Six
ELODIE
Icould already hear the music swirling through the manor’s halls as we made our way down to the ground floor. So far everything looked the same as always. I glared around the hallway warily, looking for shadows that hunched weird, but saw none. I exhaled, just as Myra looped her arm into mine.
“Oh, I can’t wait to see it all,” she said, her tone full of anticipation.
If I didn’t think of the dance, and the suffocating crowd, I found myself excited as well. We reached the staircase and Cecily gasped audibly. My breath hitched, too, at the sight.
Since I was last in the hall, the staff had been replaced by people wearing fancy gowns, suits, and costumes. There were fairies—women and men with branches on their heads like deers—and other, scarier creatures. As for one mask, I was pretty sure I saw a girl dressed as the drowned Ophelia.
We descended the stairs toward the grand hall, passing a girl in a sparkling orange dress doing a handstand on the railing of a balcony, while juggling flaming balls on her feet.
“God, won’t she fall?” Myra asked, and Cecily shook her head from her sister’s other side, watching the performer with amazement.
“They are the best of the best.”
“At least hopefully,” I added. “Otherwise, she might just stay here to haunt us.”
Myra’s eyebrows arched in surprise and Cecily let out a loud laugh.
I forced a smile. They didn’t need to know I was only half-joking.
The closer we got to the ballroom, the more performers we came across.
There was a woman with at least a hundred crimson butterflies covering her body flew around above our heads, hanging on something invisible to my eyes.
And a boy who was swallowing knife after knife with unsettling ease, greeting everyone who passed him with a big grin on his face.
An uncomfortable shiver rushed over my body at the sight. Where did all those knives go?
“Elodie.” Lilian’s voice cut through the hall, right before she appeared in front of me out of thin air.
The crowd parted for her, which meant they clearly knew her.
Her dark, seamless dress wrapped around her body like bubblegum, purple feathers hugging her shoulders.
Her eyes looked me over from head to toe, taking in the gown and the mask. The latter, she didn’t have.
“Perfect.” Her thin lips pulled into a smile full of pride. “Come, let me introduce you around.” With that she strode ahead, the crowd dividing her way.
The twins and I followed, even when I could feel my legs trying to move me in the opposite direction.
Two men wearing matching velvet vests and red masks resembling plague doctors stood on both sides of the double-winged door.
They smiled at us as we passed them, the sight sending an uneasy shiver over my body.
But then we stepped inside, and the moment faded to the back of my mind. I’ve never seen anything like this. It was as if we had stepped into another world, one made of ancient fairytales and nightmares. Not even the decorations at the Devil’s Purse came close to what Declan had created here.
Dozens of mirror balls dangled from the vaulted ceiling, painted like the midnight sky.
The chandeliers’ colourful lights broke on their surfaces, enlightening the room in blue, pink, purple, and most of all, crimson.
Servers in devil masks manoeuvred around us, offering golden drinks and appetisers on silver trays.
The air smelled of meadows, flowers, and wooden rot, like a cursed garden.
All while classical music played in the background like a whispered lullaby.
The longest night of the year. I once read an article about a tradition called Farsang, where people ate delicious treats and paraded around in scary masks to ward off winter spirits. It seemed as though Declan used it as an inspiration for the party.
Without noticing, the crowd closed around us, and Lilian disappeared from sight.
“Where did she go?” Cecily raised her voice, trying to talk over the music and chatter.
Myra and I shook our heads, just as lost as she was. I scanned the sea of masks, trying not to let my unease show, when I spotted Alistair standing at one of the walls, overseeing the waves of hundreds of guests. He was the only person in the room besides Lilian who wasn’t wearing a mask.
“Happy Birthday, Miss,” he mouthed, or at least that was what I could read off his lips.
“Thank you,” I smiled, mouthing back, just as the twins pulled me deeper into the swirling bodies and gowns.
We should have decided which way to go before we dived into the vortex. The chaos of people was suffocating. I pushed through the sea of bodies, trying to reach another wall to breathe, as the twins followed on my heels.
“The birthday girl.” A champagne glass landed in my hand, cutting the path off, the mixed scent of rose and myrrh slapping me in the face.
“Declan.” My gaze moved between the boy wearing a red velvet set with a gilded lion-like mask and the empty space behind his back where I was heading just a moment ago.
“Are you ready for our dance?” He stopped the server passing us and lifted two more glasses off the tray.
It seemed like he was his old self again, no sign of the shadowed boy whom I saw in his father’s presence.
The answer to his question was no. I wasn’t ready for the dance.
But I also wasn’t going to admit that out loud.
He held the glasses out to the twins, but I stopped his hand, the memory of the Devil’s Purse’s drinks still living vividly in my mind.
“We shouldn’t.” I placed my drink back on the tray as well.
“Are you sure?” he beamed. “We have a few more recipes—”
My face twisted and I placed a palm over my stomach, once again glad the mask hid my expression. Even the memory of that cocktail made me dizzy.
“I think yes.” I nodded, stepping past him and making my way to the wall. Hiding behind a buffet table with a champagne tower placed on it, the three of us rested our backs against the cold stone wall, and I blew out a relieved breath.
“You’re right,” Declan grinned, all charm and teeth. “It would be hard to dance with you in that condition.”
“What condition?” Cecily asked. “Drunk?”
“Well…” Declan rotated his golden rings, one by one, the lights reflecting off the rubies in them. “The Marzouq recipes are more complicated than that.”
“They are?” I could hear her voice light with excitement. “Then, I would like one.”
She took hold of a glass with rose-gold bubbling liquid inside, but Myra stopped her, pulling her hand away from the table.
“I think we should listen to Elodie.”
“Alright then.” Declan nodded. “I’ll fetch something non-alcoholic for the ladies.” He grinned before disappearing into the crowd once more.
My gaze flitted from dancer to server to stranger across the room. Anyone here could be something else beneath the costume—watching, waiting. The masks made it impossible to tell where the danger ended and the celebration began.
Without realizing it, I was searching the room for a different reason.
My eyes caught on every flicker of blonde, as if the sheer force of wanting could summon that familiar head of gilded locks and suffocatingly green eyes I was starting to know better than my own.
But Preston wasn’t here. He was probably still out in the stables, doing whatever he did when no one was around. Or maybe he’d found better company…
I shoved the thought away. Why did I even care where he was? Why did I care at all?
I closed my eyes, letting the moment sink in. For too long I gave myself false hope that this party wouldn’t happen. Not only because of the strangers and the lights, but because this was my first birthday without my mum, and I would’ve much rather celebrated alone, in silence.
It hurt to swallow, but I did. Then I forced my eyes open.
The moment cracked.
A strange chill pricked along the back of my neck, like the room had shifted, even though the violins still played and laughter echoed all around me.
Standing across the great hall, barely more than a silhouette etched in light, lingering between the guests like a faded memory, was the nameless ghost. She was still, watching, rooted in place even though her feet never touched the ground.
People moved around her, as if they could sense her presence. She seemed calmer than I’d ever seen her before, and while it should have eased me, it only made my skin prickle more. Like silence before a storm. My lungs filled with the unmistakable scent of rotten leaves and lavender.
“Look, there’s Wisteria and Ransom,” Cecily whispered, and I ripped my gaze away, willing the ghost to vanish.
The twins were looking at a jet-black haired girl and a boy with a copper-coloured nest on the top of his head. They stood apart from the crowd, deliberately isolated, and from the way they kept whispering into each other’s ears it was most likely intentional.
“Who are they?” I asked, as the girl surveyed the room from behind her royal blue mask.
“Hudson Lamont’s niece and nephew,” Cecily answered, her tone slightly bored, as if that wasn’t the most interesting reveal of the night.
Hudson Lamont, as in my father. Which meant—the girl and the boy standing only a few metres away were my cousins.
My gaze flicked between the two. Ransom moved to the table closest to them and filled an empty plate with snacks, seeming almost disinterested.
Bored. On the other hand, Wisteria, who wore a dark blue silk dress, scanned the room with controlled intensity like a hawk…
or a crow. She was clearly looking for someone.
Her head suddenly twisted in my direction, like she’d sensed I was watching, and I inhaled sharply through my nose, grateful for the mask that hid my face. Was there any chance she knew who I was? That she knew we were related?
She didn’t look away. It looked like she was gesturing with her eyes, trying to tell me something.
I followed her gaze down, toward her hands, and she discreetly pointed at a side door.
My brows creased. Then, without waiting for my reaction, she took hold of Ransom’s jacket and pulled him in the direction of the door.
I hesitated, glancing at the twins, to find them lost in another conversation, whispering under their breath while eyeing two boys on the other side of the hall.
I moved without a word. Pushing through smaller groups of people, I navigated around the circling staff, until I caught a glimpse of Lilian’s feathery dress.
I whirled away, colliding with someone else.
At the same time, a hand brushed against mine, pushing something into my open palm.
I turned around to see who it was, but the crowd closed back around me.
Masks of every size and form—glistening bones, swirling snakes, and broken marionettes—I recognised none of them.
I opened my palm and unfolded the scrap of paper.
My eyes darted around the room, searching for the tell-tale blonde hair and sly smile, but Preston was nowhere in sight.
Not that I could tell. He could be anyone hidden behind these masks.
I tucked the precisely folded note into my boot and moved to find the Lamont’s when a hand landed on my shoulder.
“Pres—” I whirled around, biting the end of the name as I faced Declan’s gilded mask.
“The time has come.” He smiled, holding his hand out.
Blood surged into my ears, and the music quietened. I exhaled slowly, then slid my damp palm into his. If I survived walking alone through the city in the middle of the night, I could survive this too. I could survive a few judging glances from the upper class.