9. Pippa
PIPPA
“Are you sure?” Ruby asks for the fourth time, handing me a pink dress with capped sleeves.
I try to hold the gown up, but my arms shake, muscles straining. I drop it gently back on the bed with the other dresses she’s pulled out for Anna, Kay, and me.
“Thank you, but I’d prefer to wear my own clothes.” It’s kind of Ruby to offer her dresses, but with her gorgeous curves, I would look like a prepubescent boy in her gowns. They call Vastatio a wasting disease for a reason.
The other women eagerly swap outfits, pinning things for adjustments, but my mind is on the other side of Lake Nettor, the blood-red expanse that separates me from my boy.
I close my eyes, draw in a deep breath, and imagine him. Tobias. His curly blond hair, his cherubic face with rounded cheeks pink with life, his bright blue eyes. The last time I saw him, he was giggling at a game of peek-a-boo with a blanket I’d made.
I open my eyes again to the flurry of activity in the room: Anna and Kay excitedly babbling as they hold up dresses.
Both women were enamored by the new moon party they attended last month and are eager for what tonight may hold.
I have no desire to traipse around in lace and silk, loath at the prospect of becoming a flower a man seeks to pollinate.
I haven’t wanted to flood their joy with reality.
We’re all dying, and they deserve their fun.
But I know what really comes from these kinds of dalliances, especially when the heart gets involved. Love is a lie that leads to heartbreak.
Unable to endure the fashion parade any longer, I make my excuses and leave Ruby’s rooms, determined to find Shemaiah.
There was a moment before Noah came in to breakfast when I was certain he was going to give me news of Tobias. But then, he left to speak with Mrs. Darning as soon as Noah finished talking about the detective.
There’s a hollow pit in my stomach, an empty, antsy, gnawing feeling I can’t escape.
I need to know why Tobias hasn’t arrived.
It shouldn’t be taking this long. His absence is a hole opening all kinds of fears I’ve tried to keep contained.
Fears that tell me he isn’t safe, that he’s hurt, that he’ll never know me, that I’ve been a terrible mother.
The last time I saw him, he cried when they took him away, and my heart was shredded to ribbons.
I need him with me, now that it’s a possibility.
My muscles throb as I make my way down the stairs, and I have to hug the banister for support.
I want to run until I find Shemaiah and demand he tell me what he’s learned, but my body forces me to take slow steps forward.
It’s going to be a long night if I’m already feeling this fatigued.
The stress always makes my symptoms worse.
Expecting to find Shemaiah in the library, I go there first, but it’s empty.
I slowly make my way to the other side of the house, thinking he might be in the Gallery Hall where the party is happening tonight since Mrs. Darning usually organizes it and he was looking for her.
Halfway there, my legs ache and my lungs burn.
I should go back to my room and nap before tonight, but I hate feeling weak.
Besides, I need to find out about my boy.
Almost to the door, I stumble and bring a hand to the wall. There’s a fuzzy, swimming feeling in my head, and the room tilts, dizziness making me slump. I blink. Shadows rise around me, specters holding instruments of death. They close in, and I’m trapped.
“No,” I cry and push away from the wall, bursting out from the shadowed fog, heart pounding against my chest. I spin to look at them, but there’s nothing there—just a wall covered in velvety, dark green rose wallpaper.
With a shake to clear my head, I focus, grit my teeth, and put one foot forward.
It’s not much farther. Once I get there, I can rest.
The double doors to the gallery are open, revealing a room that’s been transformed.
Massive fireplaces roar and crackle at either end of the long room.
The domed, ivory-plastered ceiling is coffered with artwork.
Creatures with wings are depicted across the expanse of the dome, cavorting with monsters.
Servants bustle around the room, hanging tapestries on poles away from the walls, creating a collection of cozy nooks and hide-a-ways.
Rooms within rooms using fabric woven in beautiful images.
When Ruby suggested having the party in here, I couldn’t imagine it working for a typical ball, but there’s nothing typical about new moon parties, and now that I see what she’s done with the space, it seems perfect for a night that’s holding on to the last remnants of winter.
There are no windows here to see the snow. There’s only warmth.
Too much warmth.
I rustle my skirts trying to get a little airflow.
“Are you alright, miss?” A servant stops and studies me.
“I’m fine. Just a little hot.” I sink onto the soft cushions of a nearby bench.
The girl hesitates, as if she doesn’t think I should be left alone, but I wave her off.
I know what it takes to prepare a party like this, the work that goes into the cooking, the cleaning, and the decorating.
It’s exhausting, and there’s always one more thing to do. She doesn’t need me slowing her down.
After taking a few breaths, I stand with my hand to my heart. The beat is still too fast, erratic, but I’m not as out of breath as I was before. The room doesn’t spin, and there are no apparitions chasing my thoughts.
Now that I’m here, it seems unlikely that I’ll find Shemaiah.
Mrs. Darning isn’t anywhere in sight, and there’s no reason for him to be here helping set up the party.
I wish I had his sense of smell. It would come in handy right now.
The thought of traipsing through more hallways and rooms feels overwhelming, but I press on.
There’s a door open on the other side of the hall, a parlor with a lit fire. Maybe he’s in there. It’s not far, but my vision tunnels. Is the door farther than it was a second ago?
That’s okay. Just one foot in front of the other. One breath after another.
The corners of my vision blur. My heart pounds in my dizzy head. Just keep going. Almost there, then I can rest again.
Step.
Breath.
Step.
Breath.
The room blurs. Tilts. And I fall.