Chapter Thirty-Seven
ELODIE
“The opening waltz,” a sonorous voice declared, reverberating from every corner of the grand hall. My heart beat an anxious rhythm as the crowd parted to make us room. “The celebrated Elodie Thornbury, granddaughter of Lilian Thornbury, and Declan Marzouq, son of Vincent Marzouq.”
Whispers bloomed in our wake like smoke—thin and curling, laced with speculation—as we stepped into the centre of the chalked floor.
My gaze flicked to the twins, who were giggling with the two boys they were eyeing before.
Their distraction eased the knot in my chest. If they weren’t watching, perhaps no one truly was.
Then, just as Declan and I turned to face each other, I caught a glimpse of a black fox mask with deep green eyes sitting behind it. It vanished almost as quickly as it appeared, leaving me uncertain if I’d seen anything at all or if my mind had conjured him.
Declan moved, and so did I, my heart serenading a nervous beat.
He danced swiftly and elegantly, but not in the way Preston had on that moonlit night in the ballroom.
Declan’s rhythm was quick, his movements determined, and I wished I could take the lead.
I wanted to flow with the music like a swan on the river, not hop on the rocks leading through it.
The music slowed. Declan spun me—once, twice—his grip sure and practiced, then picked up speed again. We widened our circle, a hurricane at the ballroom’s centre, forcing the others to retreat as we swept past them.
A smile tugged at my lips despite myself. Declan caught it, and his grin answered mine.
“It’s not that bad, is it?” he asked, the music masking his words from prying ears.
I shook my head, my hair billowing behind, and his eyes gleamed with quiet triumph.
Around us, couples began to pour onto the floor, the room filled with swirling colours and the soft thunder of synchronized steps.
I felt lighter, like a bird, flying freely with the melody.
The tempo shifted, softening again. This time I knew it meant the end of the dance.
Declan and I bowed our heads to each other just as the last note fell, and I quickly excused myself before the next song could start and someone else could catch me. I scanned the crowd but there was no sign of either Wisteria or Ransom.
I moved towards the narrow wooden door she pointed at earlier, when suddenly, a high-pitched note slashed across the room, sharp enough to still the air. I froze. Conversations faltered around me, every head turning toward the sound.
“Welcome, everyone,” Lilian’s voice purred through the room, rich and silken, like a cat stretching by the fire.
“I would like to propose a toast to my very special granddaughter, Elodie Thornbury.” Her eyes found me between hundreds of faces, as if guided by a sixth sense.
“It’s been only a month since your arrival, yet you’re already etched into the deepest chambers of my heart.
” She lifted her glass, the golden liquid catching the light.
“May this night mark the beginning of something far more beautiful than either of us ever imagined. Happy birthday, my dear!”
“Happy birthday!” the crowd echoed as the silver clock above the mantle struck eleven.
Lilian walked off the platform towards me, and looped her arm through mine, her smile pearly and sharp.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked, leading me around the room.
“I am,” I said, and it wasn’t a lie. Even the dance was enjoyable after all.
“Happy birthday, little lady,” an old man said as he passed us.
“Thank y—” I started, but he was already gone, swallowed back by the crowd.
We moved on.
“I’m glad to hear that.” She gently pet my hand. “I’m sorry you have to celebrate without your mother.”
My head twisted in her direction. That sounded like the first genuine sentence she said to me. Yet, I didn’t know what to say. The air seemed to press in, thick and sudden, and I couldn’t breathe. I slid my arm out from Lilian’s hold.
“Sorry,” I murmured, already moving toward the nearest exit.
A cold wind met me as I stepped into the garden. I drew a deep breath of frosty air, my lungs easing, and my gaze drifting around.
The maze loomed ahead, lit with crimson lights that made it seem even more blood-chilling than it already was.
People walked around it, their arms looped into each other’s.
Instead of going back to the ballroom, I chose a different path.
I moved through an arbour made of red and pink vines, leading me deeper into the grounds, before halting in a grove.
This was a sight I wasn’t familiar with.
Mirrors of every shape and size leaned against trees and nestled among shrubs, their gilded frames dulled by time.
Fairy lights twined above, bathing the leaves in a golden haze and casting fractured reflections onto the earth below. It was like stepping into a fairy tale.
I glanced around. Where exactly was I supposed to find Preston?
Cold swept across my bare shoulders. The weight of my dress clung to me like lead, its fabric suddenly too heavy for my skin beneath. I wandered through the grove, my footsteps hushed, until a rustle drew my attention. A couple fiercely kissed on a nearby bench, their bodies tangled.
I looked away, my cheeks heating.
“Romance,” a voice drawled, and I turned again. A boy stepped from the shadows, wearing a bronze hyena-like mask. The flickering lights caught his eyes, turning them amber. “Overrated, if you ask me.”
I narrowed my eyes, watching him suspiciously. I wasn’t in the mood for theatrics.
“The name is Abraxas,” he continued, undeterred. There was something unsettling in the way he moved, too elegant, too cat-like. Yet familiar. “And you’re the birthday girl.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.
“I don’t know you,” I said, my spine straightening like a blade.
But he only smiled, crooked and knowing, and it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yet.” He tossed the word like I should’ve known better.
Don’t engage with strangers.
I’m trying, Mum.
The wind tossed his curls as he tilted his head, studying me like a puzzle he was eager to solve. I estimated he wasn’t much younger than me. He also wasn’t much taller either, and yet unease slid down my spine like cold silk.
“You don’t look strong to me,” he said, as if responding to a question no one asked. “Not stronger than any other girl.” He came closer, sizing me up, like I was a broken doll he couldn’t wait to toss. “Nothing special.”
My jaw clenched. He sounded like Preston. “Good thing it’s not about looks,” I said through my teeth, my fingers reaching for my penknife to find my thigh bare.
The twins’ wooden vanity flashed in my mind’s eye, the silver blade glinting on it, lonely and left behind. I cursed under my breath, my breath shortening.
His brows moved, taunting, and he took another step forward. I raised a hand, more instinct than threat, and to my surprise it made him stop. Coward.
“You should leave,” I said coolly, willing steel into every syllable.
I had faced worse than this. Worse than a little boy with too much ego in his hands. I took a step in his direction, daring him to push his luck. I could fight just as well without my knife as I could with it. The only problem would be the dress.
His mouth twisted, unamused. “Or maybe, they were wrong about you…” he muttered, brushing his fingers over his chin.
“Wrong about me?” I repeated, trying to make sense of his words.
That earned a smile. It stretched too wide beneath his hyena-like leer, and something primal in me recoiled.
Be the hunter, not the prey, my mother had whispered across the years.
I took another step closer, clenching my fists, ready to swing first, when a branch cracked somewhere nearby. I spun around, expecting to see his back up, as my pulse stuttered in my throat.
“Does the lady need to hit you in the face to make you disappear?”
Relief surged through me like a sudden gust of wind at the voice. It wasn’t his ally who stepped from the shadows. It was mine.