Chapter 53
“Where is Eric?” Will asked, looking down at the wedding guests flooding the ballroom in the last light of sunset. He stood with Elodie upon the balcony from which the shadow mage Robert Lake had once fallen to his death and gazed into the ballroom below.
It was perfect.
“He declined weeks ago,” Elodie said with a shrug. “He cannot bear to watch me win.”
Will frowned but did not dare respond. He had considered telling Elodie about yesterday, but in the end had decided against it.
In less than twenty-four hours, he would be sitting aboard the train back to the Capitol.
Eric’s passion would become a distant memory, Elodie’s curiosity an echo he would miss forever.
But those two still had a chance, and he did not want to risk it with his revelation.
Even so, he was saddened that Eric wasn’t here to say goodbye. He had withdrawn with the first rays of sunlight while Will was still completing the final details.
Now the ballroom was too dimly lit for the guests to make out the two figures watching from high above.
They turned in circles, marveling, whispering, and pointing, tearing apart every detail of what Will had accomplished.
He could still feel the dull pain in his left foot, joining the chorus of wounds across his entire body. His dark red suit hid them all.
“Elodie, do you have my train ticket?” he asked, adjusting the cravat that concealed the bandage beneath it.
“Of course.” She smiled at him. “But not here, in my wedding dress.”
“Of course.” Will’s gaze traveled over the white fabric that covered her to the throat, the lace winding around her neck and wrists like restraints, and the diadem of long spikes that looked so much like the mask she had worn when they first met. Her maid would add the long veil when the time came.
“If I were marrying you, I would marry you in the silk dress,” he said before he could stop himself. He would never forget the sight of her wrapped in the soft silk, the storm in her eyes while the clouds broke beyond the windows.
She laughed softly. “Then I suppose I shall have to become a widow soon.”
At that moment, a loud murmur swept through the crowd. The small orchestra fell silent, and the servants returned to their places along the walls.
“He is here,” Elodie breathed and leaned over the balustrade.
Carried by six vampires in chains, the Red Hand’s palanquin divided the crowd like a ship cutting through a tide. Everyone sank to the floor, and the voices grew louder. It was the night of the full moon, and Elodie had truly succeeded in bringing the most powerful man in the city into her home.
Hidden within the folds of her vast skirts, Will gently squeezed Elodie’s hand. She returned the pressure, nearly breaking his fingers.
“There is your fiancé,” Will whispered. From this height, the scene felt distant, not quite real, merely another opera.
The villain and his faithful servant had entered the stage, confident of victory before the finale.
Will could only hope the performance would run its course and the heroine would have her revenge.
As expected, Duke Wilkinson hurried to the Red Hand and basked in the glory as though the entire affair had been his idea from the beginning.
“He did nothing for this,” Will growled.
Elodie had sold everything of value in the house.
She had ingratiated herself with the worst people, nodding and smiling, allowing herself to be struck and insulted, all for this one goal.
And no one would acknowledge it, because she had not achieved it through force.
She had danced her way into the minds of the nobility, and now every one of them had come.
Either to watch her fall or to claim a share of her success—but all of them had unknowingly succumbed to her charm.
“You deserve this victory,” he added. He hesitated, then pressed a kiss to her temple. He dared no more, not now, with servants and guards swarming through the house and a single sharp-eyed guest could catch them. “It has been an honor to work for you.”
She smiled up at him, and her little finger hooked around his.
“We will see each other on the other side.”
Then she was gone, and Will watched four scarlet, disfigured priests enter the ballroom. Four months ago, the sight of them would have shocked him. Now, his thoughts remained with Elodie.
She had seemed strangely distant, even when he showed her the ballroom. Her praise should have been everything he wanted, but she had merely nodded and sent in the servants.