Chapter 15
The full moon drew nearer, and every evening Hedgefort brought him a decanter of wine. Will followed Elodie’s advice and drank himself into a stupor. No dreams came for him, though he could feel the moon swelling behind the curtains.
On the night of autumn’s first full moon, the butler informed him that he was expected to be ready for the ball by eight. To Will’s surprise, he even helped him dress.
“The suit Her Grace commissioned for you is unfortunately not yet finished,” the butler said as he tied Will’s hair at the nape of his neck with a silk ribbon.
Will did not dignify the remark with an answer. His forgiveness could not be bought.
He waited in the entrance hall like a boy on his way to his first school dance. The minutes ticked past in the tall grandfather clock until, with all the tragedy of a funeral bell, it struck nine.
As always, Elodie was late. The candles at the foot of the staircase flickered in the draft, and the shadows grew long and came alive.
“Hedgefort, what happens at a full-moon ball?” Will finally asked.
“I could not tell you, sir. Only the noble houses and honored citizens are invited. And you, apparently.”
Will tried to suppress a laugh. With a sidelong glance at the rigid man, he suspected the butler had actually made a joke—not that anything in his expression had changed.
He was spared any further conversation when Elodie appeared on the landing, her maid behind her. Will stared, unable to look away.
She was grotesque and breathtaking at once.
From the crown of her head to the tips of her slippers, she was red.
Her gown fell around her in heavy, opulent folds of crimson velvet, cinching her waist and billowing over her hips.
Yet it was the plunging neckline that held his gaze.
The straps had slipped from her shoulders, leaving her arms, collarbones, and the curves of her breasts bare.
But it did not end there, though the dress alone would have caused more than enough scandal.
No, she looked as though someone had flayed her: every inch of skin not covered by fabric had been painted scarlet, from her long red nails and slender fingers, up her arms to her swanlike neck and face.
The color ended only where her black hair began.
The duchess wore it proudly. Savoring her entrance, she turned every step down the staircase into a performance for Will.
For a moment, he forgot his resentment. He stepped forward and bowed deeply before offering her his hand.
“Like something from a dream,” he said as her red fingers settled lightly over his.
“Courageous enough?”
His smile tightened.
Together they made their way to the carriage while Hedgefort looked on the verge of a heart attack: Will in pearl white, like a fallen angel, and the duchess in red, like the demon tempting him from grace.
Even so, the carriage ride was strained.
The black coach jolted through the city as the mob raged outside, its curtains drawn in an attempt to shield them from the sight.
Will’s fingers clenched in the fabric over his thighs as he tried not to listen too closely while someone was torn apart alive.
Mad laughter, cries, and screams echoed between the buildings, and the sounds of fighting and murder filled the night.
“The full moon belongs to the vampires,” Elodie explained in the flickering light of the small oil lamp. “It strips the creatures of darkness of what little reason they have left. There is nothing but feeding and being fed upon. It is a dangerous night for ordinary citizens.”
“And that is why the wealthy hold a ball?” Will avoided her eyes and stared at the embroidered curtain as though he might see the atrocities beyond it.
Here, in the cramped carriage, it was difficult to ignore her betrayal from the week before.
And she had yet to tell him what horrors awaited him tonight.
“The Red Hand does, yes. He means to prevent blood mages from using the moon to perform major rituals without his permission. Everyone of rank and power is required to appear at his mansion.”
Silence spread between them. Something—someone—shrieked as it fell beneath the horses’ hooves. The carriage jolted over it.
“I find apologies difficult. I have never been very good at them,” Elodie began, and at last Will looked at her again.
“You are a grown woman. Learn.”
“I know. I am trying… the gesture—”
“I understand the gesture,” Will interrupted harshly. “What I cannot tell is how much of it is meant for me and how much is another performance for everyone else.”
Elodie’s fingers moved over her painted shoulders, the red so rich and deep that Will could not begin to guess how she had achieved it. “You inspired the dress…”
Will lowered his cool gaze to her. “Is that why my replacement suit is not finished? Because your dress required last-minute alterations and kept your tailor occupied?”
She clicked her tongue and folded her arms across her chest, a gesture entirely at odds with her otherworldly appearance. “You don’t want an apology.”
“Not before the ball. Not until I know whether you are truly on my side.”
“No one is on your side. No one is on mine. We all fight alone here.” Elodie raised her pointed chin and turned away. He knew that some part of her wanted them to reconcile, but he also knew he was only a pawn on her chessboard.
Something struck the carriage without warning.
The coach lurched, and Will clutched at the seat cushions while Elodie remained unmoved.
Something scrambled across the roof above them, claws scraping and a hiss seeping through the walls.
Then came a gunshot. A shadow tumbled from the carriage, and they raced on at a breakneck pace as though nothing had happened.
“I have a solution for the ballroom,” Will said at last, willing to take one step toward her.
He needed to turn his thoughts away from the monsters surrounding them.
“We break through into the floor above. The structure can support it—I did the calculations. And we make the floor marble so that it can be cleaned after a ritual.”
The duchess’s eyebrows shot up, and the gleam returned to her eyes, strange as it looked in her scarlet face. “That is daring.”
“And we have very little time.”
“Nothing a little magic couldn’t solve.”
Will sighed. “That is what I was afraid of.”