Chapter Twenty-Five
“There’s a gift for Ms. Corliss, Sir.” Hana comes to interrupt our supper.
I set my fork down while Orrin pushes out of his chair and then walks out of the dining room.
“A gift?” I say.
The maid sort of half-shrugs apologetically before asking if I need anything.
“No, thank you.” I give her a smile, hoping she won’t see how troubled it is.
Orrin comes back just as she walks out. He carries a large, white box, wrapped in a crimson ribbon, the same shade as the red shoes. I stare at the gift, then back to his hard face. I can smell her.
“Elisavet.” He shuts the dining room door behind him. Sets the box on the table.
I cannot say I’m not curious, or frightened.
I look up at him once, and he nods. Then I unwrap the package, open the box to reveal a black bodice, dark against the white tissue paper.
When I pull it out, I observe how the black bleeds into a deep and brooding red at the scalloped bottom, with ribbons to tie it up and shorten it so it’s fit to dance in.
The ballet slippers will match the hem perfectly.
I run my fingers along the dress, admiring the craftsmanship.
It’s made of yards of delicate tulle layered over a satin underskirt; the boned bodice is a deep, narrow plunge, which I imagine would end up diving almost to my navel—so scandalous I gasp, thinking of it cutting down my body, how the demons will stare.
Straps the color of my skin would hold the dress up in place, with tiny beads dotting all along it, winking in the light of the dining room.
Every eye will be drawn to me in this color, in this dress.
Black to red, dark to rich. Almost violently beautiful. It’s something Elisavet would wear.
She’s also sent a pair of black opera gloves, silk stockings, a velvet choker necklace with a single ruby drop and matching ruby earrings.
Orrin clears his throat, and I turn back to him.
“You don’t have to wear this.” His soft voice doesn’t quite match the anger in his eyes.
“No,” I answer, tucking the dress back in the box with one last glance. “She’ll expect it. It would be rude not to. I don’t want to make her suspicious tonight.”
“Yes.” His nod is resigned, resentful. He hates her so.
“I guess there’s no hiding tonight, not in that dress,” I try to joke, putting away the accessories alongside it.
He doesn’t laugh. There is nothing humorous about this situation. Nothing.
However, it’s just as well I draw attention in this dress.
When I dance, I need all eyes on me—so that nobody sees Orrin sneak up on Elisavet.
We’ve already established there’s no way to get her alone.
At least during the bustle of a party, we can hopefully slip out in the chaotic aftermath of his attack. Hopefully.
We give up the pretense of supper and step away from the dining table with our plates untouched, carry the box upstairs to my room, and leave it on the table.
I walk to the open windows to take in the brilliant sunset, to stand there as the cool sky develops its color—the most beautiful sunset I think I’ve ever seen.
Orrin follows me, winds one arm around my waist and I lean into his chest, tuck my head under his chin.
Without words, we watch the deepening sky, the saturated colors: gold and lavender and brilliant orange sinking into the horizon.
We stand there for long minutes. It doesn’t feel long enough.
Then it is time for me to dress. Atop the gown, which only hits a little below my knees, now that I’ve fastened the ties, I wear my cloak for warmth.
We leave as soon as the sky fills with stars.
It is darker than the first time we went, partly because the seasons have shifted from summer to autumn, partly because clouds obstruct most of the full moon.
Still, it feels hauntingly familiar. The horses are again hooked in after we enter the carriage.
I spread out the skirt of my dress uneasily.
There’s no sound but our breath, a stillness in us both.
Orrin takes my hand and presses the back of it, gloved, to his lips.
I nod.
The ride is faster than I’d anticipated, with my nerves shot like this.
I’d think it would drag, now that we’re so close.
But it’s as quick as a flash, and soon Mr. Brown is muttering a low “whoa” to the horses.
Again, he covers the animals’ eyes as we leave the carriage together.
I have a sudden wistful thought—I would love to saddle up Orrin’s beautiful horses one day and ride them across the land together.
His soul repaired, his humanity restored.
I want it so much that it almost makes me cry.
“Ready?” Orrin nods to Mr. Brown. The horses move nervously at the sound of his voice. They smell of apprehension.
“Yes. I’ll be waiting,” Mr. Brown says.
I reach out with a gloved hand and stroke one of the horse’s velvety noses, trying to steady myself. It breathes against me.
“Alright,” Orrin says.
There’s an unspoken moment between the two men. Mr. Brown offers me a brief, encouraging smile. I return it, and exhale through pursed lips. My fingers are cold in the flimsy satin gloves, and I tighten them into the folds of my dress to hide how they shake.
Then Orrin turns to me, voice soft, reassuring. “Are you ready?”
“I am.” The slippers are already on my feet, grounding me a little, though I still choke down the fear.
We have to go in with masks on, acting like all is fine, like we’re not afraid.
We will lie in wait, for everyone to let their guards down.
And then, late into the night, he will take Elisavet down.
His knife hides in his boot. It’s honed, silver sharp. He wants to use it. I can sense the impatience in the hand clenched at his side. We walk together, wordlessly.
The only time he speaks is to murmur a low, “Careful,” as I step down the steepest rocks.
The ocean air is cold here in the night, even with the cloak.
The cave will at least be warmer, with all the demons and people inside…
and Aven. Even if hardly anything of my sister remains now, even if she’s so lost and desperate that she traded her soul to mend her broken heart.
Even if she hates me, or worse, doesn’t care at all.
Inside, it’s still her. The thought gives me courage, and I speed up, ready to get this over with.
Orrin and I make our way across the shallow steps of cool water—he helps me over any that might dampen my slippers, watching eyes be damned—and into the cave.
The walls, again, cold, dark. The smells, all the same—or even worse.
There’s an energy in the air, a sort of crackling nervousness that I sense.
I want to tell him to be careful. I want to tell him so much.
I want to hold him to me, to shut my eyes, to pretend like none of this is real, like he’s not in danger at all, like I might not lose him.
Only I don’t. I step forward into the cave and pray we will step back out later.
This time, when we enter the large, open room, Elisavet is already standing. The music is louder, the guests more intoxicated, uglier in behavior. There’s even a fight in one corner between two demons who are actually drawing blood. I look away in disgust.
Elisavet walks past them disdainfully, lips tight as she stalks over to us. “They’re restless, Orrin. Please tell me your pet will dance for us later?”
“As you desire,” he says in a smooth, rich tone, kissing her hand as he did last time.
She laughs, throwing back her head, drunk with power and wine. “Oh, good!”
I stare at the ropes of pearls wrapped around her throat, at the swell of her high breasts peeking out the top of her bruise-colored gown, which appears to be at least a hundred years old by the style.
Her hair is down again. Long, shining. Smelling of jasmine and sweetness, of the salty air and the bloody stone.
I lean into her without meaning to. I hate how tempting she is.
Elisavet turns to me with a coy smile. “Good evening.”
“Thank you for the dress. It is really lovely,” I murmur politely.
She rakes her nails teasingly down the neckline, around the indecently low edge of it, staring at me thoughtfully. “The wearer makes it more so.” I am spared forcing a response because she continues, “Have some wine. Food. Enjoy yourselves, both of you. I’ll be back later.”
I turn to Orrin as Elisavet walks away. My stomach rolls with nerves.
“It’s fine,” he whispers. “Keep the mask on—stay calm.” His expression is pleasant, relaxed. Yet I see the rage which simmers behind that smile. He hates that she touched me. I wonder if he smelled the desire on her as she gazed at me. I swallow the thought uncomfortably.
Nodding quickly, I trail him as he moves. He smiles, greeting half a dozen beings, all in various stages of intoxication, undress, and play.
There’s dancing again. A pair of demons take the stage, falling over in giggles as they wind in and out of each other’s arms. The music plays harder tonight, more insistent.
The hollow-eyed harpist doesn’t even look up.
Upon closer inspection, I glimpse broken skin on her fingers, as though she’s been playing the last month straight.
I choke down a gasp and speed up to keep pace with Orrin.
I am careful to sidestep the demon sprawled across the stone floor, willing my feet and eyes to stay steady.
I try not to stare at the desperate human woman who strokes a demon between his legs as he plays a game of cards with three others.
He reaches out, smacking her face hard, but her hand never stops, not even when blood runs from her nose.
She runs her tongue across her upper lip, tasting it away.