Chapter 15
My unsettling encounter with the Book of Erebos robbed me of my remaining sangfroid regarding the looming blood ritual.
We were facing three major obstacles. First, August was in serious danger.
The Book of Erebos had all but confirmed as much.
He’d apparently consented to act as a donor in the blood ritual, though his reasons for doing so were still murky.
In spite of all that had happened between August and me, he didn’t deserve to be sacrificed in some sick Daemon ritual.
Second, Devereaux wanted to use me as leverage against Casimir, and his silence on that front only added to my sense of unease.
And third, I couldn’t shake the suspicion that Casimir was hiding something from me.
After all, not one but two separate sources had warned me that Casimir was dangerous.
The problem was, I hadn’t figured out who Casimir was a danger to.
These ruminations did nothing to ease the acid gnawing at my gut while I attempted to finish a lab report I’d been putting off for a week.
Casimir, at least, was nowhere to be seen.
Maybe he’d forgotten about Bryce’s party, though a queasy knot in the pit of my stomach told me otherwise.
Casimir always did exactly the opposite of what I wanted, almost as if it was on purpose.
Everything in my life was on a countdown.
My exams, Bryce’s party, the ritual. I attributed the constant fluttering in my stomach to a combination of dread and excitement, like the swooping feeling you get before speaking in public or going on a first date.
But this did not apply to me, because I did not have a date with Casimir Wrayburn.
The only reason we were even going to Bryce’s stupid party was so that Casimir could steal a magical necklace.
Whether or not we went together, there was no universe in which our arrival could be considered a date.
The very thought of a date with Casimir fucking Wrayburn filled me with nervous butterflies.
No. Definitely not a date.
These ruminations did nothing to ease the acid gnawing at my gut while I attempted to finish a lab report I’d been putting off for a week.
Casimir, at least, was nowhere to be seen.
Maybe he’d forgotten about Bryce’s party, though a queasy knot in the pit of my stomach told me otherwise.
Casimir always did exactly the opposite of what I wanted, almost as if it was on purpose.
Everything in my life was on a countdown.
My exams, Bryce’s party, the ritual. I attributed the constant fluttering in my stomach to a combination of dread and excitement, like the swooping feeling you get before speaking in public or going on a first date.
But this did not apply to me, because I did not have a date with Casimir Wrayburn.
The only reason we were even going to Bryce’s stupid party was so that Casimir could steal a magical necklace.
Whether or not we went together, there was no universe in which our arrival could be considered a date.
The very thought of a date with Casimir fucking Wrayburn filled me with nervous, dreadful butterflies. No. Definitely not a date.
On Friday evening, I stared down my disheveled wardrobe, willing it to produce something worthy of a Gilded party.
I’d rifled through every item I owned—every dress, every skirt—and found them all lacking.
I silently cursed myself for turning down my mother’s offer to take me shopping in Old Port last summer.
In desperation, I palmed at the back of the wardrobe until I found the dreary black dress I’d worn to my father’s funeral.
Could I wear a funeral dress to Bryce’s party?
My nerves fraying, I hitched my towel more tightly around myself as I eyed the dress for another disappointing moment before tossing it to the floor with the rest of the rejects.
I was attempting to comb through my wet, tangled hair when the lock clicked.
Gwen appeared at the threshold, her eyes bulging in surprise as she took in the scattered contents of my wardrobe, my harried expression, and my sopping-wet hair.
Water dripped quietly onto the only bare spot of floor where I stood.
“Sorry, Gwen,” I apologized. “I’ll clean all this up—” I shoved a pile of unfolded shirts back into a drawer. “I’m just having trouble finding something to wear for tonight—”
“I can see that,” Gwen noted. Her lips twitched in amusement. “What’s the occasion?”
“Tonight’s Bryce Yu-Ri’s party,” I explained.
To her credit, Gwen did not betray any surprise at my being extended an invitation. “Oh! Of course,” she murmured.
I could almost feel the curiosity burning in her gaze. “Who are you going with?” she asked, her brows rising innocently.
I cringed internally. Of course, Gwen would misread the frantic gleam in my eye and assume it was about a boy.
But Casimir wasn’t the reason my nerves were fluttering like impatient butterflies in my stomach.
It was the prospect of spending an entire evening under the derisive gaze of the blue-blooded socialites who would either ignore me outright or sneer at my very existence.
Wearing the wrong outfit would be a surefire way of garnering additional unwanted attention.
Casimir was decidedly the least of my problems tonight.
“I’m going with Casimir, but it’s not a date,” I clarified quickly, my cheeks heating.
Gwen grinned, a devious glint in her hazel eyes. “Is he coming to pick you up?”
“I told you, it’s not a date” I said firmly.
“We’ll probably meet there. We’re only going to—” What?
Pull off a jewelry heist? Find the Keeper’s Heir to prevent an evil society from seizing more power?
I cleared my throat. “We’re going as friends, and…
honestly, I’m curious. I want to see what the fuss is all about.
” It was partly true. I wanted to witness a notorious Gilded Circle party for myself, in all its debauchery.
I offered Gwen a shrug that was perhaps a tad too nonchalant to be believed.
She slumped a little in disappointment. “Oh.”
Turning away from her so she wouldn’t see the flush that crept to my cheeks, I added brusquely, “I’m running late and I have absolutely nothing to wear,” and resumed my fiendish rummage through the pile of clothes on the floor.
From her perch on the bed, Gwen arched her brow. “Is this your way of asking me if you can borrow something?”
My head snapped up in time to watch a mischievous grin spread across her face.
“I have just the thing.”
I quickened my pace toward the twisting green gates, the icy night air biting at my bare legs beneath my coat.
Teeth chattering, I yanked at the fabric of the dress to cover the sliver of exposed leg, courtesy of the dress’s daringly high slit, so that it covered Casimir’s name.
The last thing I needed was for anyone at the party to notice it.
After much cajoling, I’d finally agreed to borrow one of Gwen’s dresses—a very lovely dress—in a pale blue silk that clung to my hips and curves.
I bit back my reservations, but a dull flush rose to my cheeks the moment I saw my white thigh, like a streak of moonlight.
Between the two of us, Gwen had the most fun with my makeover, but I’d drawn the line at jewelry.
The dress was so elegant on its own, I felt that adding any baubles would only distract from the overall effect.
I accepted her offer to loan me a pair of strappy silver heels, and she’d insisted on painting my lips a dark, cherry red and combing my lashes coal-black.
She even styled my unruly waves until they shone like silk.
When she was finished, she turned me around to face the mirror propped on her vanity.
I hardly recognized myself.
My silver heels clicked along the darkened path toward the edge of campus.
Without the hordes of students bustling to class or lounging on the lawn, it was unnervingly quiet.
My gaze caught on the seraphic sliver of moon that hung above, its sharp edges emboldened by a seam of inky black sky.
Only a few stars remained visible against that blanket of night.
A streak of pale blue silk peeked out from underneath my overcoat, shimmering like fairy dust in the moonlight.
There was something magical in the air tonight.
But gods, it was fucking freezing. I’d planned to walk the half mile to Bryce’s family’s estate on Pearl Street having conveniently forgotten I’d be wearing heels.
My body registered that something was amiss before my mind caught up.
I took one step past the iron gates and drew in a breath as sharp as ice.
Just beyond the reach of the lamplight across the street stood a dark figure, their silhouette cloaked in shadow.
I squinted to try and make out their features as a plume of smoke wafted into the air, obscuring the stranger’s face.
I froze. I was alone and, aside from the small dagger concealed beneath my dress, unarmed.
Adrenaline pulsed through my body like an electric current, but I remained frozen to the spot.
The only movement was my rapid breathing, sending puffs of white vapor into the freezing night air. Fuck. Was I about to be attacked?
But then the smoke cleared, and Casimir emerged from the shadows. Of course, he did.
Irritation quickly replaced any relief I felt as he crossed the street to join me.
“How long have you been standing there?” I demanded, clutching at my chest to settle my pounding heart, my fear quickly turning to anger as I took in his smug expression.
“If you scare that easily, maybe it isn’t such a good idea to attend the party after all,” he murmured.
Scowling, I retorted, “Bryce and her coterie of gilded sycophants don’t scare me.”
Casimir cast me a sidelong glance. “I wasn’t talking about them.”
I didn’t need to ask to know who he was referring to, but at the moment, irritation eclipsed every other emotion.
“Are you going to tell me why you were lurking in the dark like some psychopath?” I shuddered again as a patch of dark clouds moved across the sky, shrouding the faint stratum of moonlight.
“I was waiting for you to show up. I thought we could go together,” he replied smoothly. His expression was open and innocent, but his eyes glimmered with mischief.
“If you were looking for me, why not just come to my dorm?”
He didn’t answer, and I was momentarily distracted by his unusually formal appearance.
Beneath his black leather jacket, he wore a dark button-up shirt and matching trousers, but my eyes were drawn to the thin gold chain that glinted at his throat.
I’d never seen him wear it before, and the effect of the chain, together with his gold earring, winking out from behind his cascading curls—with that look on his face—was intoxicating.
With a pang of mortification, I realized that I’d been staring at him for far longer than was appropriate.
“Were you planning to walk all the way there?” he asked, shooting a dubious glance toward my spiky heels. His gaze drifted to my bare legs, visible beneath my coat, and my face heated in spite of the cold.
“It’s not that far,” I said defensively.
He sighed and gestured with his chin toward a sleek black car parked on the curb. “Come on, I’ll drive.”
I was too frostbitten to refuse his offer.
I clutched at the handle of the passenger door as he whipped us around winding curves, past rows of cobblestone streets and alleyways, and beyond the groves of shadowy trees.
Downtown, the lampposts were already lit for the evening passersby, casting warm halos on the streets below.
Despite his reckless speed, I was grateful for the toasty interior of the car.
He slowed as we came upon a row of mansard houses with intricate ivory facades and dual-pitched roofs in the old French style.
779 Pearl Street did not disappoint. The manor was at least three stories, replete with a brownstone walk-up and curved window dormers that made me think of cycloptic, peering eyes.
I glanced over at Casimir. He clicked off the engine and turned to me.
“Ready?” he asked.
“No.” I wasn’t ready to face them. The Gilded Circlites saw me as nothing more than the scum on their boots.
As the beneficiary of Ouverham’s scholarship fund, my presence at the college was an unfortunate anomaly, and they’d never invited me to parties, even when I was August’s friend.
“Can I leave this here?” I asked, shucking off my coat.
Casimir eyed the high slit, the exposed skin of my thigh, lingering on the curve of my collarbone visible above the silk neckline, a slow smile on his lips, before his gaze darted back to my leg. To the name tattooed onto my flesh.
“Nice dress,” he remarked.
“It’s borrowed,” I snapped, tugging down the dress so that the mark was covered.
But Casimir’s lips were already curving into a dangerously playful smirk.
“By all means, if you want to take the opportunity tonight to show everyone who you belong to, that’s fine w—”
I interrupted hotly, “I do not belong to you! Or to anyone!”
Unable to stop his grin from spreading, he raised his hands in surrender.
“Of course not. I was only joking.” Darkly playful eyes slid to mine.
“You are walking into this party with me, though, you know.” He dropped the playful manner and looked at me seriously.
“Remember to follow my lead tonight. We have one mission… to get that necklace.”
“And probe for information about the Heir,” I reminded him. I felt a pang of annoyance. His attempt to bait me into forgetting my fear had been successful. I glanced up at the grand manor looming before us, and my nerves kicked up a notch.
Casimir exited the car, and for a moment, I just sat there, feeling the cool rush of air as he closed the door, trying to steady myself before I followed him into the party. Into the lion’s den.
As if he’d read the apprehension written on my face, Casimir nodded. “A piece of advice? Don’t let them see your fear. Fake it if you have to.”
Right. Don’t be a coward.
I set my jaw and steeled myself for the chilly night air.
Casimir offered me a dazzlingly sincere smile as he took in my dress, displayed in all its shimmering glory.
Under his softer gaze, my mind went liquid and incoherent.
I returned the smile with a shy one of my own as I joined him on the threshold.