Chapter 12
Despite Astin’s eagerness to reach the party – I suspect because he thinks the sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave – we end up at the back of another long queue, filtering through to the courtyard. I loop my arm through his proffered elbow as we move along.
Every guest is in the same emerald clothing as us, like Damian’s turned us into an army of green-worshipping servants. Not that anyone minds. The air is ripe with excitement, and full smiles shine on everyone’s faces.
‘Be on alert,’ Astin murmurs in my ear. ‘A Souleater could be among us.’
I’m barely listening. While he searches for Souleaters in the shadows, I’m drinking in the magic of the evening, my powers bubbling just by being near all of this.
My throat burns, but my fingers don’t twitch, have no desire to channel any emotions that don’t belong to me.
My own anticipation is enough to drown out the noise.
We enter the courtyard, sandwiched between the four inner walls of the castle, to find a quartet playing a slow, almost mournful tune on a small dais.
Candles lie at their feet. Couples twirl on freshly cut grass, and the sight is a tug on my belly, pulling me towards them.
Wanting to be among them for once. I slide a glance at Astin, in case he’s reconsidering his refusal to dance, but he’s steadfastly staring around the courtyard, head full of threats and violence, not noticing their antithesis directly in front of us.
I suppose I’ll have to settle for making sure everybody else is taken care of instead.
There’s potential for me to do some of my best work tonight – I can walk around, encouraging more people to dance, to experience the magic of falling in love beneath a moonlit sky.
They can be my penance for what I did to Brandon.
My hold on Astin’s arm tightens. Between meeting Damian and the party, I’ve managed to avoid thinking about what happened in the woods. Biting my lip, I focus harder on my surroundings, needing the distraction this night can bring.
Ornate lanterns are strung over our heads, while more candles are dotted over every available surface.
A brazier of fire near the buffet table bathes the faces of those nearby in an orange glow.
On the far side, men and women wearing elaborate wigs and glittering green leotards hang from ropes draped across one of the castle’s walls, contorting into what I think are strange positions until I realise they’re spelling out Damian with their bodies.
The man himself is moving through the crowd.
He’s swapped his blue cloak for a green one made of velvet, while a small, thin-rimmed crown sits low on his forehead.
People stop to stare as he passes, but none are really looking at him.
Their gazes pass over his face and fix on his gloves, their expressions a combination of hunger and fear.
I know what it’s like to not be truly seen.
Whenever I visit the apothecary, my parents are so busy waiting for signs of the extraordinary or dangerous, I sometimes think they forget I’m a person.
My chest tightens as Damian removes himself from the throng, heading to a plush chair waiting for him behind a cordoned-off area, where he can watch us from afar. An outsider at his own party.
Astin touches my arm. ‘You okay?’
‘Of course,’ I lie. ‘Isn’t this party wonderful?’
‘Not really. Opulence in excess is kind of tacky.’
I have never known someone so impossible to please.
‘Come on.’ Astin tugs me towards the buffet table. ‘Once we have our instructions, we’re leaving.’
‘Mm-hm.’ Wanting a distraction from feeling sorry for Damian in the corner, I sneak a bite of a cake covered in green icing, and the taste of apple explodes on my tongue.
The moan I let out is, admittedly, loud and somewhat startling to my own ears, but that doesn’t explain the way Astin stiffens and moves five paces to the left as though he wants to pretend he’s never met me.
Well, fine. If he wants to ignore me, I’ll stand here and eat dessert all night.
I’m about to take another cake when I spy two women reach for the same pastry at the far end of the table.
Their fingers meet, and they both bounce like they’ve been touched by lightning.
The pie falls on to the plate in a cloud of crumbs.
They stare at each other. Their chests stop moving, like seeing the other person has sucked the air from their lungs.
And then the taller of the two walks away.
This will never do. My feet are moving before I can think of a plan, but if worse comes to worst I’ll shove them on the dance floor and suggest the musicians play something that requires proximity.
They disappear into the crowd before I get a chance, and suddenly I’m surrounded by smiling faces and gleaming eyes, of loud laughter and joy, and another pang of longing reverberates through me, longer than any sorrowful note from a violin.
When it comes to romance, I’m always the puppeteer, but I’m never part of the show.
Worse, I’ve lost my puppets. I’m about to change direction, to see if my quarry have reunited near the drinks table, when a hand wraps around my wrist and yanks me back.
‘Hey!’ I protest as I’m spun round, my nose slamming into a broad chest that’s all too familiar. I glare at Astin. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Stopping you wandering off and getting distracted.’
‘I’m not getting distracted,’ I protest.
‘Please. I know that look.’
‘What look? I don’t have a look.’ I absolutely have a look. The quirk in his brow tells me I won’t be successful in denying it, so I settle for suggesting, before I can think better of it, ‘If you wanted to stop me wandering off, you could ask me to dance.’
He drops my wrist. ‘I told you. I don’t dance.’
‘Don’t or won’t?’ I fold my arms. My vision blurs. I’ll never wear a dress this lovely again, and it would be nice to experience the event in full. To pretend I’m the kind of person that belongs on dance floors, just for a night.
I catch sight of Damian, still alone, drinking deeply from a goblet, and my yearning flares into annoyance. There is nothing stopping Astin from dancing other than his own pig-headedness.
‘You should, you know,’ I say. ‘Even if it’s not with me. You have no idea how lucky you are that –’
Astin snorts. ‘You and I have different ideas of luck.’
‘And you and I have different ideas of how to have fun at a party, because if you think I’m spending my night loitering by the food . . .’ I hitch up my dress to aid my getaway. ‘You are sorely mistaken.’
This time, when I storm off, he doesn’t stop me, although he does call my name with a considerable bite of frustration in his tone. I have no intention of dancing with anyone other than him, but the music draws me closer to the floor anyway, my heart squeezing into a fist.
‘Hello, again.’ Nuri sidles up to me, with no Cale in sight.
Maybe sorting them out can be my good deed of the evening.
Although she’s wearing the same dress as me, she’s paired it with a faded cardigan that doesn’t match the ensemble whatsoever.
I catch a glimpse of what looks like a gold bracelet, so tight it’s almost inked into her skin, as she fidgets with the sleeves.
‘The Emerald King didn’t throw you out for being a Soulstopper? ’
‘I already told you, I’m not a Souleater.’ I fire a glare in her direction. ‘Was it really necessary for you to tell him what happened?’
‘He asked a lot of questions, don’t you think? And yet he wouldn’t answer a single one.’
I stare at her, in case she would like to recognise her own hypocrisy, but rather than defend herself for throwing me under the cart, she loops her arm through mine and walks me through the crowd, weaving us between a throng of partygoers who appear to be measuring who has the biggest stick.
It’s unclear what they intend to use said stick for, but they’re all adamant that when it comes to a dangerous mission, the bigger the better.
On the other side, another group are whispering in hissed voices about their meeting with Damian.
‘He’s giving me enough to buy a plot of land in Rerta. Can you imagine? I’ll finally have a home.’
‘That’s nothing. I’m getting the medicine I need for my son. It costs hundreds –’
‘When I’ve won the competition, maybe I’ll slip you a little something for your son. But the Emerald King is giving me my own shipping company. I’m going to sail the Durconan Ocean in search of treasure. My winnings will be tripled by the end of the year.’
I suppose it’s nice they’ve stopped trying to kill each other, but it doesn’t hide the fact only one of them is going to win.
That the rest will go back to their ordinary lives, with their sick children, or their lack of homes, or their – okay, I have slightly less sympathy for the woman who wants a fleet of ships, but who am I to judge? I’m here for an inn.
Suddenly, it seems slightly ridiculous we’re all milling around, waiting for the location of this cure, drinking from golden goblets. If Damian’s emeralds are limitless, he should stop making indestructible trees and instead turn pebbles into spendable gems, so we all get what we want.
Maybe then I’d believe our hexes could be gifts.
Maybe then there’d be a point to magic, if it was used to help not harm.
We edge closer to Damian as we walk across the courtyard. I’m convinced I can feel Astin’s eyes burning into my back, but I refuse to turn round.
‘So many people,’ Nuri says, coming to a stop next to the hog roast. ‘Winning seems impossible, wouldn’t you say? It’d be best for everyone here to give up.’
‘Everyone except you, you mean?’
She smiles. ‘Perhaps.’
‘Are you going to tell me your sob story? Do you have an ailing relative that makes you more worthy of winning than anybody else?’