56. Henry
HENRY
W hatever I saw on Harlow’s face earlier must have been an illusion of her veil.
Now that the party has begun, she’s smiling, her posture relaxed as she sips a glass of wine and listens to two young women from the high houses of Lunameade telling her a story about the rivalry between two seamstresses in the city.
Naima and Carter are sitting by a heating stone, rolling their eyes as Bryce holds court with several young women.
I can’t hear what he’s saying over the many conversations on the patio, but I can tell by the way he’s gesticulating that he must be regaling them with what is likely an unnecessarily overblown tale of his heroism in the Drained Wood.
A group of fiddlers plays soft music, less for dancing than for atmosphere. Harrick and Liza Carrenwell sit at the other end of the patio, calling out requests to the musicians. I know that they’re really keeping their distance so that their influence seems far from what I’m going to say tonight.
The party is beautiful, but my gaze keeps sliding to Harlow in her starlight dress.
It shimmers in the truly absurd amount of light flickering from candles on every tabletop.
I’m trying not to look at her at all because I can’t think straight with her in that dress, especially with the fresh memory of fucking her in it.
I take a long swig of my whiskey and turn my full attention back to the group I’ve worked my way into.
I can’t for the life of me remember the names of the people I’m speaking to or which gate their families guard, but I can always pick the biggest gossips at a party.
They’re receptive in ways that not everyone is, and they ask the exact right questions to lead to the answers they want you to give.
Back at the fort, I’ve been called closed-off, broody, and intensely introverted, but really, I’m always watching.
When you don’t speak up as much, people tend to fill the silence out of sheer nervousness.
Being quiet means that I get to observe everyone, and they sometimes forget I’m even there.
It’s what has kept my family alert and aware of any threats growing inside the fort walls, but it’s come in handy here in this new environment as well.
Harlow keeps glancing over at me, clearly surprised by my sudden switch from quiet brooding to life of the party.
It’s easier to be charming when I’m playing a part. I liked parties enough when I was younger, when Holly was alive and there was no pressure on me to fill the void she left behind.
Being here in Lunameade brings enough distance that I can slip back into that old pattern. If I want to sway these people to my side, they need to think I’m one of them. A woman named Annie, introduced herself right away and she’s eager to keep me talking.
“So, you two seem to know everyone, but I swear I still can’t even keep my in-laws straight,” I say.
Annie laughs softly. “The Carrenwells are probably the easiest to track because of the eyes. No other family has all those shades of purple.”
“Ah, but I can’t see color. So I’m at a loss there.”
Her jaw drops. “Can’t see color?”
I shake my head. “After I nearly died when the fort fell. My body recovered, but my vision never returned to color. I see the world in black and white.”
She gasps, her hand flying to her mouth, as she smacks her husband’s arm. “Patrick, can you imagine? That sounds like such a headache.”
Patrick whistles low. “I can’t. Surely it affects your night vision.”
“Don’t make him feel bad,” she chides, squeezing my arm. “I’m sorry. I’m just so fascinated that you had a brush with the veil and came back changed.”
“The stranger thing is that it happened to all of us who almost died that day. We all recovered, but our vision lost its color. Except…” I nod to Carter. “My friend Carter over there. He got his back when he fell in love with his wife.”
I can tell immediately this is the right thing to say because all of the women in the group sigh.
Annie presses a hand to her heart. “You’re kidding.”
“I couldn’t make it up,” I say. “It’s happened to a few of our men.”
“But not you?” Annie asks, glancing at Harlow. “She does normally seem a bit reserved, but tonight she was magnificent at the ceremony. I can see the appeal.”
I’m trying not to think about how appealing my wife is or how I can still smell her perfume all over me.
I sigh. “It’s still early, but I’m hopeful my full vision will return as we get to know each other better.” Each lie begets the next lie. Like any exercise, it gets easier the more I practice. I’m slowly leading them right to where I want them.
A blonde woman in our circle presses a hand to her heart. “She really is a beautiful girl. A shame that you can’t see her in full color.”
Annie nods in agreement. “You’re so right, Colleen. All of those Carrenwell women have the dark hair and pale skin and the high cheekbones.”
“Truthfully, I’ve never worried about what I’m missing,” I say. “Even in a black and white world, Harlow is striking.”
Perhaps I’m laying it on a little thick, but all of the women look moved.
“I am glad you survived. I can’t imagine what an ordeal you’ve been through,” Colleen says solemnly.
Several more people wander into our group. It’s slowly growing thanks to the morbid curiosity of these ghouls.
They want me to talk about it more, and I stuff down my disgust. “Well, not everyone was so lucky. So many of my people—of our people died defending our walls that day. The fort is set up similarly to the city. We have fallback points the same way you do here, but instead of being divided into quadrants, we’re set up in levels, one through six. ”
They all nod along with rapt attention, and I know I have them. I just need Rafe to show. It’s stupid to let my emotions get involved, but between Harlow’s justifiable loathing of the man and the fact that he tried to frame me at a rebel meeting, I don’t mind setting him up as much as I expected.
I continue the story, leaving out any details critical to our strategic defense and playing up the emotional aspect.
When I finally get to Holly’s death, half of the women have glassy eyes, their hands over their mouths or hearts in shock and sympathy.
Sharing my sister’s last moments for the purpose of manipulation makes me feel sick to my stomach, but I think of Harlow’s words and force myself to be committed to this vengeance.
I shake my head. “Listen to me, going on and on and completely ruining the mood. I’m sorry. I fear I’m living up to the reputation of mountain men having no manners.”
“Nonsense,” Colleen says, grabbing my hand. “This is exactly what Agony night is about. It’s about sharing memories to share the burden of our collective grief. Your sister sounds like a very brave woman.”
I swallow hard. The sudden shift from contrived storytelling to real sympathy throws me. “Thank you for listening. The more people who know what we have been through—who know the stories of the people we love—the more their memories live on. It makes me miss her a little less.”
I hear a chorus of greetings on the far side of the patio.
Rafe has finally arrived. If I were a true believer, I would see this timing as Divine. He shakes hands as he enters the party, but I notice it’s all men who greet him. The women of the high houses seem to shrink away.
Annie tracks my gaze and sighs. “I guess we have to go welcome the mayor with the rest of them.”
“You’ll find no welcome for him from me,” I say just loud enough to cut through the din of conversations. Several people outside of our group turn to see what I’m talking about.
Harlow is directly in my line of sight. She pauses her conversation and gives me the barest hint of a nod.
I wave a hand in dismissal. “Look, I have been living in the woods a long time and I know things are different here. There are political games to be played and that man has made himself indispensable in this community. I don’t want to speak out of turn.”
As Annie grabs my shoulder, I can feel Harlow’s eyes on us. I have no idea if it’s amusement or jealousy, but I hope it’s the latter.
“You must speak your truth tonight, especially after sharing that story. For Holly,” Annie says.
The group around us nods. I try to ignore the way the reminder that I’m doing this for my sister and betraying her at the same time feels like a blade slid between my ribs.
I take a bracing breath. My dread is no longer manufactured. “I told you how we’d never seen a horde of Drained that big. They were so coordinated and advanced compared to what we had seen in the past, like the ones who just attacked North Hold last week.”
They all nod and lean in closer. I’ve got them on the hook—it just takes the slightest tug to haul them in. This is the trickiest part.
Lowering my voice, I lean toward them. “When the Drained showed up, the blessed in our ranks sensed the distinct feeling of Polm’s influence.”
Colleen gasps. “You think that someone compelled them to attack the fort all at once?”
I cast a narrow-eyed glare at Rafe. “I know exactly who did. Rafe saw us coming and going through North Hold more frequently, and I think he sensed his standing with the Carrenwells was falling behind my family. With Holly set as heir of Mountain Haven, I would be free to move anywhere to marry into any family, and we all know the Carrenwells decide which families hold the gates. North Hold would be an obvious choice given our relationship with the Carrenwells at the time and our knowledge of the road north to Mountain Haven.”
I see my implication hit the group of them.
I feel like a puppet master pulling strings.
It’s easier than I thought to muddle my sister’s memory by mixing lies into her story—to speak words that make me feel sick.
I know that Harlow’s right. There is no dignity in revenge.
There’s only what I will do and what I won’t.