CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
GISELLA
In the space of a few short weeks, the austere, though luxurious, interior of Sebastian’s castle—I refused to call it anything else now—transformed into something magical. The townspeople talked about nothing else, according to bavardage my maid peddled from downstairs.
Outside, everything appeared perfect. Excitement carried on the wind, and even Granny Smythe’s wolf-men acknowledged the event.
On the inside, panic reigned. Staff flurried about the house sorting decorations and polishing silver after weeks of planning. Sebastian brought what must have been centuries worth of the royal service collection with him when he’d left France. Dresses were laid out, altered and restyled. Minette met any ladies who considered themselves seamstresses or who possessed any such skills in the town, and collected as many bolts of fabric as possible.
The trading post was alit with the news of a ball at the house, and no one was permitted to enter except for the staff. The ballroom was scrubbed until the black and white tiles I had encountered on my first day in Sebastian’s home that he imported from France, along with the rest of his belongings, glowed with the shimmering reflection of the chandelier above, and the silver vines glinted in the reflected crystalline light.
Minette laid out the gown she’d stitched for me, and I marveled at her talents. The dress consisted of two flowing swathes of a translucent blue material that faded to cream at the bottom. A deep vee mirrored both back and front, with a gathered waist that flowed to the floor in a sweeping bell shape.
A matching mask of deep blue lace covered my eyes, fading to the same cream as the dress as it descended to my cheeks. She’d designed a thin choker of the same, deep blue to cover the lines still visible around my throat from my torture, and silver cuffs with bows draped my wrists.
“You’ve done…an incredible job, Minette.” I twirled in place, a little giddy at the finery.
Minette bobbed a courtesy, a blush rising in her cheeks. She straightened the blue feathers she’d intertwined through my hair, which tumbled around them in a confection of curls laced with a length of silver ribbon.
Her own uniform for the evening had been altered, as had all the staff’s. Black lace edges were applied to all their service wear, with velvet as the distinguishing feature on Charleton’s coat. Each wore a prominent black mask across their eyes in the shape of the fleur-de-lys .
“You look beautiful, madame.” Minette opened the door, ushering me through, still refusing to call me by my preferred name.
“As do you,” I smiled. Minette’s tiny curls framed her head with a blonde halo. I stepped into the hall and ran into Sebastian’s chest. “Do you have to be so close?” I grumbled, rubbing my forehead as I looked up at him.
My mouth dried as I stared at the imposing figure who reminded me of the mysterious man I had encountered on my first day in his home before I knew his name. Sebastian’s face was half-covered by a black, velvet mask, and he was dressed head to toe in black: breeches, stockings, and boots, with a short, evening cape that swirled about his shoulders as he stepped back from him.
In short, he looked like something out of a dream.
His gaze caught mine, blotting out the rest of the world.
In my periphery, Minette edged away, her feet pattering on the thick carpet as she made her escape along the hall while I froze in place, as unable to move as I had been that first day.
Sebastian brushed my chin with the lightest touch.
My bedroom. Now.
I gave a half-laugh, hiccupping. Sebastian slid a glass of champagne into my hand, the bubbles going straight to my head. I shook it; I needed to be in control of my thoughts tonight.
Do you?
“You are the highest form of temptation,” I murmured, sipping the delicate bubbles. Memories of France rushed over me, my home, my mother before I lost her. I shook the images away. No distractions were allowed tonight; none at all. We had to focus on our task.
Tilting my head back to offer some snarky remark about places and times, I made the mistake of losing myself in my husband’s fathomless gaze.
You’re not objecting, wife.
“Not tonight.”
Sebastian's hand slid around my waist, pressing against the small of my back as he drew me impossibly close. My throat closed on a breath until his strange presence enveloped me.
“Shall we?” he asked, his eyes dark beneath his mask as he surveyed me. His sinful smile promised tantalizing fantasies that crossed my mind in a montage of debauchery.
A shiver raced over my skin. He could pull off any of those acts; I knew that from first-hand experience. I nodded, unable to answer him.
Matching his steps as we moved through the hall together, I tried to concentrate on tonight’s performance, running a list through my head of everything important, already acknowledging it was too late as the guests had started to arrive.
The silence of the upper floor clashed with a murmur from below that grew in volume with every step.
We reached the top of the stairs to find a steady line of people entering the ballroom from the foyer door. Chatter filled the lower levels of the house. I inhaled slowly, subduing the desire to race back to my room and close the door. Lock it, maybe. I sipped my champagne then on impulse drained the glass, leaving it on a side table.
Guests in costumes and finery mingled around columns dressed in Sebastian’s colors. New Orleans rose to the moment for our masquerade ball.
Combined with the sense of impending disaster that encompassed me, it was all a little too overwhelming. I flapped about for Sebastian’s hand with an edge of desperation, needing to anchor to something solid. He held out his arm, and I clung to it.
Breathe, Gella. It will be over soon. You don’t have to do anything.
But you…will.
I squeezed my eyes shut and forced my feet forward. The illusion of solitude fell away, the crowd rushing back with a roar that drew an ache from the back of my head. I rubbed it, something niggling there.
“Easy for you to say, when you’ve had a target from an ancient hedge witch painted on your behind,” I muttered.
But it’s such a lovely behind, wife. I enjoy using it for my own pleasure.
I flushed.
Sebastian laughed as we reached the bottom of the stairs. Heads turned in our direction, searching for the source and settled on us. I refused to shrink beneath all those pairs of eyes, though I desperately wanted to return to my bed—or his—and never emerge again.
At least, until they all left.
I’ve been away from people for too long already.
A large shape blocked the sea of eyes from my line of sight. I blinked at Dolion, dressed in a finely-tailored suit of red and black.
“You’re wearing clothes,” I blurted.
A fresh flush decorated my face as both of my monsters laughed. I shook my head in mock despair, letting their easy humor sweep away my fears for the moment.
A group of men with long hair, dressed in leathers appeared in the doorway to my side. Sebastian stiffened as they parted to reveal Granny Smythe looking anything but Granny-like in a stunningly simple gown of black, shimmery material. Knowing something of her age, if not the exact date, I had to admit the ancient creature aged spectacularly.
Sebastian sighed, squeezing my arm as he went to address his guest.
“You’ve quite outdone yourself,” Dolion murmured in my ear, bending low to speak to me. “Tonight will be a grand success. All will be well.” He straightened, linking back to our previous conversation in a louder voice designed to carry. “Yes, Minette appeared to enjoy the measuring process,” Dolion offered me his arm and led me into the ballroom.
Guests parted before the dark-skinned giant as we progressed through the crowd. Murmurs of rumors I expected reached me, but none seemed malicious. In fact, most party-goers appeared awestruck, and as I drew my attention back to the center of the ballroom, I understood their perception of the castle.
Black velvet draped from the ceiling in long rows, with a flicker of blue in between the wide swathes of material. Charleton had somehow stained the vines climbing the columns a brighter silver, so they reflected the sea of color swarming beneath in an ever-undulating mass.
I wondered if Minette hadn’t designed the color scheme as well as my dress and the uniforms.
“You seem quite taken with my maid,” I observed, watching him track Minette’s head of blonde curls bob her way across the room, collecting empty trays and glasses. “When did you take your measurements? Have you been keeping my staff up at all hours?” I teased, taking a fresh glass of champagne from a tray Minette offered with a genuine smile, albeit aided by the bubbles of the last glass.
Keep your head about you, wife.
Minette’s eyes lingered on Dolion for a long moment before she resumed her duties.
“Not at all,” he replied, watching her sashay away in her adjusted uniform, lace brushing the backs of her calves in a break in protocol. The masks gave everyone a chance to feel the fantasy that flowed through the event, and the staff were not immune from the magical feel of the night. “She’s been visiting me in the garden, bringing me lunch. Now that we appear to be out in the open, it is much easier to have…friends.”
“Friends who are human,” I said softly, the implications of my limited mortality hitting me.
I had been so busy planning, I’d allocated little energy to process the intricacies of my relationship with a relative immortal. And what was true for Sebastian and me, was likely also true for others.
“Yes,” Dolion’s gaze weighed heavily on me.
A hand slipped around my waist, the touch so familiar, his silent presence so undeniable that I knew who touched me. I leaned back into my husband’s broad chest.
“Please, mingle with my staff,” his voice resonated with all the unspoken things of the night as he spoke over my head.
Dolion turned his weighted stare on his friend and loped away into the crowd who parted for the huge man.
“Is she here, yet?” I asked softly, though the chatter of so many people in the ballroom filled the space and reverberated against the walls.
“Not yet—” His face shut down, and I spun around as the crowd parted for a pale woman dressed in a burgundy gown that flowed behind her in a long train. I stared past Amy for her husband, the young man who met her at the docks, but she appeared to be alone.
I wondered if she had killed him already…or worse.
“Gisella,” she cried in farce, sliding her arms around me in an embrace.
“Amy,” I croaked the name, but no one seemed to notice my failure. I remembered to smile, to play the part, that she knew nothing of our plans. Didn’t she? My stomach coiled back on itself, defiance and betrayal warring in a duel that drew my attention from our greatest foe in the room. But we had a plan, and I would go with it, until it failed us. Then...
It took everything I had not to recoil from her touch. Amy's fingers dragged over the choker Minette made up for me to cover her marks, and Sebastian’s. “But you look so beautiful.”
I murmured something inconsequential. My heart racing, I released her as soon as was socially acceptable, presenting Sebastian in a recited monotone. It was all so fake. We’d agreed to continue the pretense for as long as possible, as that’s what she would expect. Sebastian had detailed to me a hundred encounters where conversations were held at both vocal and mind levels during events, with society none the wiser. I had been flabbergasted, and still struggled to grasp the concept.
“Where is your lovely young man?” A pathetic attempt at conversation, but the most I could manage as my brain jammed.
“Oh, you know, he was so sweet, I devoured him.” She turned eyes full of mirth on me.
My stomach curled on itself again as I wondered at the reality of her comment. Any more of this and I would retch champagne all over the well-polished floor. My pale reflection stared back at me in the tile’s glossy sheen. Amy joined me, her smile widening. I half expected her face to morph into something demonic, but her sugar-sweet smile remained innocent beside my frozen reflection, denying the demoness hidden beneath.
Unable to focus around her, my mind whirled, as though her presence alone poisoned my ability to think. To each side of us, I noted the gargoyle and the wolves gathered. As one they moved, an escort of pure muscle, herding us toward the drive.
No, Amy was no fool. She took a bait I never offered and I stepped into her trap, along with everyone in this place that I loved.
My mouth opened to scream, call for help, but even my brain behaved like sludge, unable to ask for the aid I so desperately needed.
Do you not think I don’t know what you’ve done, Gisella?
The voice inside my head was snide, but it wasn’t Sebastian’s. Neither was it welcome. I struggled to stay upright, clinging to his arm as Amy continued to chatter inanely at both of us at once.
I dragged my attention to the guests who milled around the foyer and the drive, noting the opaque, out of focus eyes. While my mind tried to comprehend what that meant, Sebastian gripped my arm tight, drawing me toward the house.
Go, Gella.
Urgency lit his tone as he pushed me back in a violent gesture that left me reeling. I stumbled, turning in the direction he expected, but the wolves circled us on each side, preventing any escape. A deep rumble grew in his chest, and I knew his fury wouldn’t be contained any longer.
Even Granny Smythe’s wolf-men were captivated by Amy’s brand of darkness and magic. For all their muscle and authority, their eyes stared blankly, opaque, and I knew they were not themselves.
“How many conversations can you hold at once, Amy?” I gasped, my thoughts lining up long enough for me to make sense of the situation.
I needed a distraction and flung around for ideas with my fogged mind. Beside me, Dolion slipped into our circle, his skin yellowing, hardening to his stone form in preparation for the confrontation that had to occur.
My hands trembled as I gripped the coat arms of the men I adored either side of me. A single thought sliced through my mind that floored me, raw and desperate. Neither was it a private link with Sebastian, which meant everyone linked to us must have heard my internal cry.
Sebastian bent to press his lips to the top of my head without breaking eye contact with Amy.
I love you too, Gella.
A tinkle of laughter filled the courtyard, grating on my very skin with its wrongness. “Oh, many, darling girl. Did you think me as vapid as you? As mortal?” She laughed again, a sound less like bells, more shattered glass on silver, edged with a stain of something dark and dripping.
My vision swam, shadows clashing across it. I shook my head, stumbling even as I stood still. Something cold slid against my hand. My sight cleared as I looked down, away from Amy, as though looking at her directly set off some sort of defensive reaction.
Or aggressive.
I remembered Granny Smythe’s words as she’d unwrapped the same tarot cards she’d read in her house. My stomach gave a lurch, water surging beneath my feet though we were no longer on the ship.
It’s taking her.
I curled my toes within my blue and silver slippers that were never meant to be worn outside the comforts of the ballroom. I gripped the ground through the delicate material, determined to stay in the moment, to not be swept away as I had last time, lost to the beckoning waters.
I glanced at the ageless witch for help but her eyes were opaque, unfocussed.
Amy had stolen her, too.
Our list of allies grew thin, despite their physical presence. Without their minds, they were no more than puppets, listless marionettes, as I had been when Amy had bid me take my own life in the house behind us.
We will not survive this.
I listened for Sebastian’s easy answer, but my plea went unanswered.