39. The Dusk Ball
The Dusk Ball
I t was early afternoon when Mila saw Culis again. By that time, the stress she felt about Natalee’s upcoming sacrifice had replaced any mortification she’d experienced in his room earlier that morning.
“I want to attend the ball tonight,” she demanded as she confronted him in the hallway after lunch.
“Mila…no.”
“In secret ,” she added, and he fell silent, listening. “No one will ever know I was there...but I have to be, Culis. This is my fault. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let Natalee go through this alone.”
“I…can’t. I don’t want you to die,” he said, reaching out to touch the back of her hand with his fingertips, wanting to share himself with her. The energy was painful. His concern and fear were undeniable.
“Culis,” Mila said gently. “If you do truly want to make amends with me, if I am not a pet or a slave, but someone you respect, then you’ll know that you have to let me do this. This is my choice. I want to accept the risks that I know exist. ”
And Culis, despite his anguish, knew she was right, and this was a true chance for him to prove to her that he’d meant what he’d said.
“I'll only accept it on the condition that you follow my instructions to the letter about the method of getting you in and out.”
“Agreed.”
That was how, a few hours later, Mila found herself passing through the black gates of the palace in the carriage with him, and although she knew that this was the only decision she could have possibly made, it still felt like deliberately returning to a cage.
A cold shiver passed over her as the shadows around them deepened, and she nearly lost her nerve entirely when she saw the spires of the Grand Cathedral rising high and imposing against the deep orange sunset.
“It’s not too late to turn back,” Culis said softly, as though reading her mind, and something about being offered the choice to leave strengthened her resolve to see this through.
“You know I will not.”
“Well, whatever you’re planning to do tonight, don’t let it get you killed. And remember, Jezebel cannot be permitted to know you are present.”
“I know, and I’m not planning to do anything.”
“So, your intention is truly just to watch?” Doubt laced through his every word, and his beautiful eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“How could I not want to see you present yourself to society in that hideous shade of orange?” she joked, trying to lighten the mood.
“This?” Culis plucked at his tangerine overcoat, looking a little hurt. “I like it!”
“You like to make a statement,” Mila corrected. “But it’s not nice. And it’s certainly not your colour. ”
“It’s the Dusk Ball!” Culis protested. “And I’ll have you note that this coat was made by some of the finest artisans in Traders Bay. It’s the colour of the dying leaf of a bone tree! Correct to the exact shade!”
“Well, they certainly captured the ‘dying’ part,” Mila teased.
“Jealousy!” Culis harrumphed. “And insulting my magnificent coat won’t distract me like you think it will. Mila, if you have something planned for tonight, tell me. I could help.” His eyes were earnest as he reached towards her – placing a warm hand on her knee, so she could feel his energy again.
She appreciated his desire to be open with her, and she desperately wished she could reciprocate, but the rubane secret was too destructive in the wrong hands.
“There’s nothing. There’s no plan.” She sighed and placed her head in her hands. “The God-King will touch Natalee tonight and that will be the end of it.”
Culis knew her too well by now to be satisfied with this answer, but he drew back and decided to let it go. “Okay,” he said briskly, changing the subject. “Here’s how the evening is going to pan out. We’re nearly at Jezebel’s apartments. You’re going to hide in the compartment under the seat. Do not come out. I’ll greet the princess and dazzle her with my magnificent coat. She will join me in the carriage, then we’ll go to the Grand Cathedral. Only once we’ve departed and the carriage has been taken around the rear should you emerge and find a good vantage point from which to watch. There are plenty of windows. I would suggest you climb a tall tree…I’m sure you’ll figure it out, but...promise me you’ll stay well away from the building.”
Mila nodded but did not promise.
The evasion was noted by Culis, who let out a huge sigh, but continued to give his directions. “I will attempt to leave soon after the sacrifice. You must ensure you are back in the hidden compartment well before that. It is entirely possible that Jezebel will want to return to my manor with me. If I tap my heel upon the floor sharply, three times, it is my signal to you to stay hidden. If you hear it, stay put until either myself or Arran comes to let you out. You could be hidden in there for over six hours. Understand?”
“I do.” She nodded gravely. “Thank you for bringing me with you, and for trusting me.”
“Don’t butcher that trust, please.”
Mila gulped at his words, and Culis’s sharp eyes noted the movement.
He rolled his own in resignation. “Ahh. So, you are going to butcher it. Well, at least now I have a heads up.”
“I…”
“Mila. You don’t have to tell me, but don’t lie to me please. Just get into the compartment. We’re nearly there.”
She felt a little ashamed, but nodded, kneeled down, and clambered past his ankles into a tiny secret cabin that sat behind a false wall under his seat of the carriage.
I can’t tell you everything right now, she thought regretfully as she lay in the small dark space and Culis closed the small door behind her, but someday I will explain it all.
She’d never really minded the dark, or small spaces, but this compartment felt eerily like a coffin once the door was closed behind her. It was pitch black and was not high enough for her to lift her head from the floor more than an inch. She did not have enough room to roll over.
“Are you okay?” Culis asked with concern from outside, his voice only a little muffled.
“Mmhmm,” she responded. “Am I going to be able to breathe in here for six hours?” she asked, suddenly concerned .
“Of course,” he replied. “All my carriages have these installed, and you’re far from the first to do a long stint in one. They’re essential for smuggling.”
“Of course, silly me.”
The carriage slowed. From this position, Mila could hear the clopping of the horses’ hooves incredibly clearly, like they were right next to her head.
“We’ve arrived,” Culis said in a low whisper. “Remember my instructions. I’ll see you here, in one piece, in a few hours.”
Mila did not reply. She heard the carriage door open, accompanied by Jezebel’s excited gasp of joy and the rush of her footsteps. Mila felt her stomach clench, imagining the princess throwing herself at Culis, and him drawing her into an embrace.
“You look…breathtaking. Happy birthday, Princess.” Culis’s voice was low and filled with wonder.
“Take me to my party,” Jezebel said with a joyful laugh.
Mila could feel the power of her happiness bombarding the carriage.
“Your will is my command.” His reply was teasing and light-hearted.
Mila caught the sound of a kiss, and then the carriage rocked as Culis and Jezebel found their seats.
“Come to me,” Mila heard Culis purr.
Mila forced herself to steady her breathing, thrusting aside the glass shards of jealousy that were forming in her throat.
This is all an act, she reminded herself as the sickly sounds of kissing commenced above her. I know how he truly feels about her…and me.
It was one thing to know it and quite another to accept that Culis was currently here, with Jezebel, pretending to be her besotted lover.
“And my birthday present?” Mila heard Jezebel suddenly demand .
“The demon you requested is in the carriage following us,” Culis replied. “She can be taken and prepared by the acolytes once we arrive.”
“The demon sacrifice is my father’s requirement,” she said in a pouty voice. “Where’s my present?”
For a moment, Mila thought Culis was in danger, for she hadn’t seen a present for Jezebel in the carriage, and he’d never mentioned procuring one for her.
But a chuckle from above told her that she should have known him better than that.
“Ahhh, I was hoping to wait until the end of the night to give it to you, but seeing as you’re such an impatient little thing– ”
Jezebel giggled. Mila wanted to retch.
“ – I suppose you can have it now.”
A tinkle of metal sounded in the air, and Jezebel’s gasp accompanied the outpouring of delighted energy. “It’s quite exotic.”
“What else do you get the woman who can have anyone and anything she wants?”
Mila felt herself shrivelling up as she listened to their chatter. Despite everything that had so recently come to light about Culis’s real feelings, everything she heard above her seemed so real, and it was undeniable that he had clearly invested considerable time thinking about how best to woo Jezebel. Mila knew she had no real claim over him, and that trying to stake such a claim while he still had ownership rights to her life was downright foolish.
And yet…
No, she chided herself. There were bigger things at stake tonight than her inconvenient crush on Christopher Culis. If the rubane worked as she suspected it would, then there was a chance that the entire Church establishment would come crumbling down. That was what she should be thinking about right now. Not the way Culis was holding Jezebel and buying her exotic gifts.
Thankfully, Mila’s torture was coming to an end, and the muffled, echoing sound of drums from the Grand Cathedral grew louder as the carriage approached. She didn’t have to wait much longer for Culis and Jezebel to dismount and make their way into the hall.
Their absence brought Mila palpable relief.
The horses were clucked forward by the driver, and the carriage moved again. This time it went only a short distance before it stopped, and Mila heard the door open.
It was Arran’s voice she clearly heard this time.
He whispered into darkness, “A’ight, there’s nobody around bu’ a few footmen. I reckon you’d be right to spear off when it suits you.”
Mila cautiously pushed the hinged door of the secret compartment open and rolled out onto the floor of the carriage. It was dark, but her night vision was now well-adjusted, and the light of the Grand Cathedral came streaming in from the left like a flood of gold.
Mila turned her head away from it and slipped from the carriage into the darkness on the other side, cautiously working her way around the other carriages and their bored drivers, who were all milling around with their horses. It was easy to reach the edge of the hard standing unnoticed and slip away into the nearby gardens.
From here, she released a big breath and took stock of the next step in her plan.
She eyed the towering monolith that stood beside her and took a moment to appreciate the sight.
Great raised braziers had been erected at the entrance, and the firelight threw hot orange light at the golden walls, turning the entrance into a glittering beacon for revellers to approach like entranced moths. The women were all dressed in gowns inspired by elements of late autumn: hues of deep purple and orange, spiderwebs and cool, starry skies. From her position, Mila could also hear the most gorgeous, ethereal music emitting from the heart of the building: deep drums, low flutes, a woman singing – her deep velvety, reverberating alto catching on the wind – a lone fiddle playing a slow, lonely, heart-wrenching solo. The combination of the lights, music, costumes and unshakable sense of danger made Mila feel as though she’d been transported out of Artor and into a dream. She tried to steady her pulse and catch her breath, but it was near impossible.
That was, until a firm male hand grabbed her forearm sharply and wrenched her around.
“Servants were explicitly ordered to stay away this eve – Oh!”
A familiar face glared down at her, an eyepatch illuminated by the gleam coming from the building.
“Mila,” Jahan said incredulously. “What are you doing here?”