Dizzying Dances
Starla groans as she pulls on her gown for the second evening of festivities.
“After this it’ll be two days down and one to go,” I remind her in an attempt at cheerfulness.
“After this, it’ll be an entire day tomorrow filled with Piers, Percival, Maximilian, James, and whoever else my father insists on shoving at me.
For one wild moment today, Dennis entered the foyer and I thought my father was actually going to insist on that particular pairing.
Luckily Dennis was just delivering a message. ”
“See, things are looking up.”
I tease her, even though my thoughts are shouting that her father might just find a way to force her hand.
She sighs.
“You were granted a reprieve this afternoon while I endured Harry yammering on about how nobles ought to be able to pay the Magikai to gain preferential treatment from the government.”
I bite my lip.
She must be able to tell that I’ve got something to say, because I see her wave a hand, the air shimmering around us. I don’t bother wasting time and chastising her on the magic-usage. Best to just say what I need to say.
“I’m sorry, Starla. You’re only here because of my curse.”
She stops buttoning her dress, coming to me instead as it swishes around her legs.
“I’m just fussing. Grumpier than a bumblefooted hen. I do wish you’d been able to do a little more sleuthing this afternoon, but that’s on the way my father runs things. Not you.”
Councilman Taylor has an extensive staff, and especially as I don’t know the layout of the manor, we decided it would risk too much suspicion for me to wander around. Instead, I did my best to take a nap after texting Jackal our hope of finding a way to search the councilman's office.
“Tell me, how do you keep all these men straight?”
She laughs, flopping back on her bed and putting herself in danger of wrinkling her dress.
“I don’t bother. They are interchangeable. Most have the personality of a wet dish rag. I’m just sorry my father has you involved. From the way he was talking this afternoon, I think he’s going to try and fill your dance card.”
“It takes some of the pressure off of you, and maybe that will be how we get our answers.”
She rolls on her side, really focusing on me.
“You do know that you’re not responsible for what Leon did, right? You don’t have to feel pressure to solve everything. I know we have to get rid of your curse, but I don’t want you to be seeking out other answers because you think it’s your duty.”
“I should have pressed for more details about Leon’s supernatural accomplice. Even though he doesn’t know their real identity, surely there was something. After all, we’ve already come across a crest that matches Ivyrn Works. I could have figured that out sooner and delved further.”
“You risked your life to come rescue me when I got my sorry behind captured. A little shmoozing is the least I can do to make it up to you,” Starla says while I continue to wrestle with my mind.
An uncomfortable weight settles in my stomach.
Starla huffs, rising and adjusting her dress This one is an icy shade of blue that reminds me of icicles clinging to a winter cavern.
She waves her hand again, the muffling magic dissipating. Her fingers tremble, and I hope she can hold out until the end of the weekend.
By the time we make our way downstairs, we are fashionably late for the second evening’s ball.
Starla ended up calling for one of the staff to bring up some of the fresh clams and oysters the kitchens kept for dinner, and was able to add a bit of the pep back into her step after a quick round of building her magic back up.
Dozens of pairs of eyes swing our direction as we make our way down the central stairwell.
Tonight, the entire interior has been transformed. Instead of gold and florals, there are greens and reds more reminiscent of Christmas but all done in a way that isn’t gaudy. Real, aromatic garlands and sprigs of holly. Mistletoe that I hope to avoid stepping under with any potential suitors.
“We’re the belles of the ball,” Starla whispers to me, ‘acceptable’ accent firmly in place.
Everyone in the foyer has turned our direction. At least some of the guests are mingling in other rooms, but judging by the murmuring that takes place as we hit the landing, we’re going to be popular topics of attention again this evening.
Starla elbows me.
“Ouch!” I yelp, even though it doesn’t really hurt.
“Look!” she rolls her eyes to the left. “He made it.”
Feral is standing in the foyer, speaking to a few of the other guests. Arloc sidles up to the Founder, looking more flustered than usual.
“An honor, truly,” I hear him say as I focus on them over the noise of the crowd.
“We should say hello,” I tell Starla.
“You think? We’ve been splitting up from the guys for most of this. Speaking of which, where are they?” She casts a glance round the room, but Jackal, Ji-hwan and Exos are nowhere to be seen.
Likely a good idea. There can’t be even a hint of suspicion that Feral is with us.
Still, I walk in his direction. But not for him.
I spent a lot of the afternoon thinking about it. Having a vampire who specializes in magical jewelry fall into my lap is too glaring a hint to ignore. Grammy Pearl would probably have a full fit if she knew I’d even considered such a thing.
I’m not sure what I’ll do if he can tell the necklace is connected to a curse, but I might need the information to fix my siren ability.
The vampire smiles as we approach, a good sign. I’m struck by the fact that Feral’s eyes aren’t red, something I hadn’t registered before as being different from other vampires.
Arloc bows.
“Founder, please allow me to introduce Starla, daughter of Councilman Taylor. And Carolina.”
Feral dips his head, planting a kiss in the air just above the back of my hand.
“You are enticing, my dear. I don’t believe I’ve seen you before. Are you one of the witches the councilman knows?”
“I’m afraid not.” My voice is shaky, trying to focus on looking as though it’s the first time I’ve been in contact with the Founder.
I spot Jackal and Ji-hwan entering the foyer. Just the hyena’s presence is enough to help me breathe.
“I’m sorry, I don’t believe I know your name.” I smile up at the Founder as he releases my hand.
“Feral.” At the moment he’s solid, with no hint that he’s actually a god.
His figure is cut to perfection in a dark suit with a forest green pocket square that sets off his eyes. I look over his shoulder, and in addition to my mate I catch several others watching us. Multiple curious looks from the men and jealous looks from the ladies.
At least if I’m interpreting things right.
“I’m Carolina Bonet,” I volunteer, using the version of my name Councilman Taylor has been using in his introductions, “and I’m a siren, not a witch. Although I would say my song is superior to nearly any key.”
I smirk, and one of the nearby women scoffs. I’m not making any new friends.
I note a single woman who is watching us with an expression that isn’t sour.
Her eyes are a stone grey, and her posture is neutral.
She’s wearing a form-fitting dress with gold and orange accents.
And she’s focused on me, not the god. Similar to the deity, she appears to be perhaps in her mid-thirties. But one never knows.
I don’t have time for curiosity.
Feral is still talking.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t catch that,” I say.
I look again, but the woman has disappeared into the crowd. I don’t recall seeing her last night. Perhaps Feral isn’t the only late arrival.
“I was asking if you’d do me the honor of the next dance,” the god says.
“Oh, yeah. I mean, yes, I would love to.”
Arloc’s smile tightens, but he doesn’t try to stop us.
“I was hoping we might speak later?” I say to him before the god can lead us to the floor.
Arloc’s expression relaxes a hair, perhaps thinking he’s back in the running and might soon woo a siren to his coven.
“Of course, Carolina. I look forward to it.”
The Founder sweeps me onto the dance floor as the next song begins. I am no trained dancer, but one difference from more historical times is that people are not all synchronized here. Thank the tides.
Feral swirls me expertly around the floor, and each time I get close he speaks in snippets. Just a few words. For anyone nearby, he could be complimenting my dress, or my physical features. With our similar dark hair and green eyes, we must look like a matched set.
“We spoke about your information, and we agree. Starla needs to get in that office,” he whispers.
“Why Starla?” I ask as I step closer.
“She will go in with the councilman’s permission.”
“How?”
“There’s going to be a large-scale distraction that will end tonight’s festivities early. The councilman is a shrewd man. He will be suspicious.”
I’ll just bet.
“He’ll want to check on what is most important to him,” Feral continues.
“If you’re thinking that’s his daughter—”
“His money. His reputation. And we’re betting whatever dirt he has on the people here, which he undoubtedly has. He does not strike me as a man who gained this level of respect by earning it.”
“You think he blackmails people?” I ask before spinning out and then back into Feral’s arms.
“I think he has a backup plan for everything. If he suspects an attack—and any man in his position probably would, with what we’ve got prepared—he’ll search for suspects and check the items he would most hate to lose.”
“I’m supposing the suspects will be you all?”
“The suspects will be gone before he can find them, and everyone in here will be in the clear. I called in a favor of my own.”
My muscles ease as he indicates that Jackal and the others won’t be put in a position of scrutiny. I’m sure the councilman would love an excuse to throw my mate out.
“How does Starla get into the office, then?”
“The witch is going to act distraught by the evening’s early end. Because she’s developed a keen interest in one of the eligible gentlemen and was hoping to solidify an offer by the end of the weekend.”
“Someone had better tell her that!” I warn him as he dips me for the end of the song.
“We will. She’ll tell her father, and he’ll want to know who it is and how to usher the pairing along.
It’s just a guess, but her show of compliance, his paranoia, and his desire to let no deal slip through his fingers will tempt him to speak with her in the office.
That way he can keep an eye on multiple interests at once. ”
We’re banking on a lot of ‘ifs’ for my taste, but we did pull in a god of wisdom, and he speaks as though he’s got just as much insight into situations as Grammy Pearl.
Feral bows, then walks away as the musicians begin a new song.
Across the ballroom, I can see Starla. The witch has three men around her, and she fans herself with a hand while giggling.
“Do you have space on your dance card?” I whip my head around to find Claude watching me.
Arloc’s nowhere in sight, seas be praised.
I can’t afford to alienate the vampire, but I’m also curious about the warlock.
Tonight’s pin is gold, over a deep blue suit. But the symbol is the same.
Ivyrn Works.
Perhaps Leon used the symbol without even understanding its significance.
Calculating the best way to manage the situation, I settle on a hint of snark wrapped in a polite package.
“Are you certain you want to spend a dance on me? I am incredibly close to the councilman’s daughter, and it did not seem as though your family approved of her.”
He frowns.
“Excuse my sister’s incivility. Consider this an apology.” He holds out his hand, arm steady, clearly someone who has no doubt his offer will be accepted.
“Thank you.”
The two of us begin the dance, and once again I allow my partner to lead, although Claude is more forceful than Feral. The Founder moved with elegance and grace. Claude moves with muscle, each turn making it clear that he could overpower me if he wanted.
Perhaps not if I had my claws out. It would depend on his key. Could it be curses? Could I be twirling in the arms of the man whose ancestor cursed mine?
My throat is lashed with fire, and hatred burns in my gut.
Whether Inktus was a villain or not, her descendants didn’t deserve this treatment.
I don’t deserve it.
I’m shackled by my curse, and I might be standing in front of someone whose family history holds the key. I can’t even sing the truth out to him, because I might die or bring danger to those I love after overusing an ability that should be mine.
“Your sister mentioned she has a key for strength,” I venture. “Is that a family trait?”
He nods.
“It is, from our father’s side. A little brutish for the tastes of some here, but it puts me on par with any shifter, and that does come in handy. Physical strength is the only kind some of them recognize.”
I droop a bit in disappointment as he continues to guide us.
Maybe he’s lying? Or maybe he just didn’t inherit the cursing power?
We’ve got to be halfway through the dance number by now. No use being subtle. Even if I tip him off, his reaction could tell me something valuable.
“I love that pin. Is it a family crest?”
He smiles, staring down at it for a moment.
“It is.”
“What does it signify, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“The pen was altered from the original seal, which used to have a quill. Our family has always been successful in business. Running multiple merchant companies generations ago. The dragon is because an ancestor several generations ago had one captive who guarded our wealth for us. That was back when our holdings were more tangible. Rubies, gold bars, goblets, things like that. No need for that now with virtual banking.”
I swallow down the desire to be physically ill at his casual reference to enslaving another living being.
“Nowadays, we’re just known for guarding our status and reputation, as a dragon guards its hoard.”
Screams erupt around us, and I freeze. Claude drops his arms, stepping between me and the direction of the shouting. I’m not sure whether that’s actually chivalry or a desire to get closer to the action.
Either way, I duck around him so I can see what’s causing the commotion.
Through the large windows that overlook the east gardens, I can see flames shooting into the sky.