30. Willow
Chapter 30
Willow
D usk settles as we approach the Ivory Palace for the Winter Solstice Ball. The crisp air carries notes of pine and frost, mingling with the heady aroma of spiced wine wafting from within. The soft crunch of snow beneath our feet and the distant tinkle of enchanted bells add to the winter symphony. My breath forms small clouds in the frigid air, and I shiver, pulling my shirt tighter around me.
When we read that the ball included costumes, the team thought channeling something nostalgic would be great. Geraldine wears a swashbuckling pirate ensemble, Peggy is in a rose-adorned bathrobe, and Max wears something called a “Jedi Knight” robe, but I think he just stole a Keeper of the Cauldron’s robe and ripped off the emblem. I’m secretly proud of him. I have zero creativity apart from the little acorn pinned in my hair. The stolen treasure is the perfect understated adornment to complement my other stolen prize, Bodin’s work shirt and trousers.
It’s cold, but Well-damn, it feels good to be out. Tonight, I finally get to have fun with my friends.
Our excitement wanes as we near our destination, replaced by a growing unease. Goodfellow’s sudden decision to move the ball from the Nexus gnaws at my mind, but curiosity overtakes suspicion as the decorations come into view.
The palace gleams like a fallen star, its spires reaching heavenward. Delicate ice sculptures line the path, refracting light from countless floating lanterns. Garlands of winter blooms and shimmering frost adorn every window, transforming the palace into a winter wonderland—the air thrums with anticipation and magic.
Our haphazardly sourced costumes are a stark contrast to the glitz and glamour.
A group of giggling gentry strides past us down the path, their servant hurrying to catch up and lift their dress trains to avoid falling in the snow. I glimpse hollow cheeks and sunken eyes when the servant glances at me. The contrast jars—opulence and desperation side by side, separated by an invisible line. A pang of guilt twists in my gut as I think of Colin. His continued absence weighs on me.
Dream webs sparkle between hedges, casting intricate shadows on the snow-dusted ground. Only the pathway to the Cabinet of Curiosities remains dark, an ominous entrance into the maze holding my mate for ransom. A tug pulls at my chest, halting my steps. Bodin’s touch warms my back, urging me onward.
“But—” I start, barely above a whisper.
“Later,” he interrupts, his stern look swinging toward the palace. The others are already a few paces ahead.
Being this close to Fox without seeing him feels like a betrayal. My chest aches with a mixture of longing and guilt. How can I be here, about to celebrate, while he’s trapped in stone? And yet, the warmth of Bodin’s hand on my back sends a confusing thrill through me.
“Let’s just get this night over with,” he grumbles, his breath clouding in the cold air.
Unlike us, he wears his usual black House of Shadow attire and a tailored suit. It should be comfortable, but he shifts from boot to boot, betraying his unease.
“You look nice,” I whisper, trying to lighten the mood.
He meets my eyes, surprise flickering across his features. I meant it. The simple, black attire becomes him. It’s rare to see him out of his rough work clothes. Now I’ve seen him look all dashing twice. All those hard muscles are hidden in sleek darkness, but his lethal prowess feels more apparent.
I reach out, gently touching his hair. Someone has changed the tiny braids to tight, twisted rolls. No, wait. There’s something wound around them. I take a length and roll it between my fingers. He inhales sharply, watching me intently. The thin sections are braids on the scalp but morph into something else further down that’s kept in place by a glittering thread. Black skull-shaped beads are clamped on regularly, tingling with power against my fingertips.
“You have charms,” I murmur, curiosity and concern warring.
A muscle flexes in his jaw. “She tries to stifle us, but we find ways of growing stronger.”
“Who did your hair?” I ask, unable to keep the edge from my voice.
“I’m not telling,” he returns, amusement in his eyes.
“Why?” Jealousy runs through my veins, hot and unexpected. Then suspicion follows. It better not have been a female. Maybe I could handle Cricket touching him, but one of the ladies-in-waiting? No way.
The line moves forward, and we’re suddenly faced with Cobweb and Moth. It takes every ounce of self-control not to burst into laughter. Their eyebrows are missing, replaced by comically elaborate arches adorned with sparkling gemstones.
“Bejeweled locusts” is my first thought as I take in their attire. Emrys’s disdain seems to be rubbing off on me. Cobweb’s lips curl in a sneer as her gaze travels from my borrowed trousers to Geraldine’s eye patch. Moth lets out a delicate, mocking laugh.
“My, my,” Moth coos, “did you mistake the Winter Solstice Ball for a peasant’s costume party?”
I clench my fists, biting back a retort. We may look out of place, but we’re far from powerless. Bodin’s low growl beside me is a reminder that we’re not to be trifled with.
Behind the ladies, I catch a glimpse inside the ballroom. Fae and exhibitors sparkle brightly. Not a single dark dress or costume is in sight. The air thrums with wild, raucous energy barely contained. Laughter and music intertwine, creating a dizzying symphony of color and sound.
Goodfellow stands on a glittering dais, hands on hips, scanning the crowd with a pleased expression. His eyebrowless face looks almost as comical as the ladies-in-waiting. The glitter in his stockings makes his enormous codpiece stand out like a sore thumb. But I notice the stony gaze the most, a coldness that doesn’t match the festive atmosphere.
With a start, I realize the Baleful Hunt is not at its post guarding Titania’s temple. Nor was it there during class today. My heartbeat kicks up a notch. Maybe I can visit Fox, after all.
“Your offerings?” Cobweb’s voice drips with disdain.
Moth titters. “Oh my.”
“This won’t end well for you,” Cobweb adds, smirking when they see we have nothing in our hands.
I curse inwardly, remembering too late the fae custom of bringing gifts to curry favor with the nobility. Each offering, carefully chosen, can influence alliances and tip the scales of power. Our empty hands might as well be a slap in the face to the Court.
Bodin’s growl rumbles low. “Threatening our Shadow?”
They pale. Stammer. Curtsey.
He grumbles some more, annoyed, and directs us inside.
More snickers follow us as we enter the ballroom. My cheeks burn with embarrassment when we reach Peablossom at the refreshments stand. She moves and adjusts the flower arrangements to catch the light just right. Her dress is a supernova of light, twinkling more than the stars decorating her pastel blue hair. My friends start sampling the food, oblivious to Peablossom’s smile dropping when she glances at us.
“Dearest confection.” She refits her smile, but it’s tight. “Why are you wearing that monstrosity?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused.
Geraldine balks. “I thought this was a fancy dress ball.”
“Oh my, when I spoke of costumes, I envisioned regalia, not the garb of jesters.” Peablossom’s lips purse. She scolds Bodin quietly, long enough for him to appear abashed before he growls something back. The clamor and music are too loud for me to pick out their words. But we’ve clearly fucked up somewhere.
“Um. So it’s not a costume ball?” I ask. Blood drains from my cheeks when I take in all the other exhibitors wearing formal and extravagant clothing.
An unhinged laugh peels out of Peablossom.
“Are you alright?” I ask her. It’s been a while since we’ve had a moment together. Puck’s new power would surely cause waves in the palace staff.
She doesn’t hear my concern. That wild look in her eyes grows. “Alas, the sands of time fall too swiftly for alterations. You must grace the pageant just as you are, dear heart.”
“It’s fine,” Bodin adds, scowling at the ballroom. “We don’t need a pageant for a sponsor. She has us.”
“I’m afraid, just like the moon’s attempt to capture the sun, the parade is not negotiable, Sweet Bodin.” Peablossom’s tone gentles for him. “Whether you seek charms or not for your Shadow, the points alone are simply vital to gain a temporal edge in the trials. The leaderboard is already afoot and hanging on the wall for all to see.”
She gestures at a tapestry on the far wall between two ice sculptures shaped like the Holly King’s jovial, wintery face. A space in the center is marked from one to ten for names.
“Points?” his brow furrows.
“I explained this last week.” She cocks her head, perturbed. “Do you not recall? Such boons are bestowed only outside of one’s own house. This is why I worked on her wardrobe so tirelessly.”
So, having six Radiants in the House of Shadow means nothing to us. We’ll have to gain favor from other houses.
Bodin’s expression darkens with frustration as he realizes his memory has failed him again. The apologetic look he gives me breaks my heart. It’s not his fault, but his self-disparagement tells me he thinks it is.
“I will speak with Legion,” he offers, stepping away.
“Fear not.” Peablossom halts him by taking his wrist. “I will swoop in like a swallow and save the day again for my cherubs. No need to lay another burden on our Knight Commander’s silken head.”
“We will owe you,” Bodin mutters.
“Add this to the tally and just remember . . .” Unreadable emotion flickers in her eyes. She swallows and directs the next part to me. “Just remember your allies at the end. Off you all go, into the line. Chop-chop.”
“Even me?” Peggy balks, looking at Bodin. “I thought I’d forfeited.”
“Forfeited?” Peablossom squeals. “Goodness, no, dear. There’s a long process for that.”
“It’s started,” Bodin assures her.
“Perhaps adhere to the customary steps,” Peablossom advises gently. “Align yourself with the others, and by the time the next gathering beckons, you shall have gracefully exited the Nexus system.”
Peggy’s eyes lock with mine. Something about her fluffy gown makes her seem old and vulnerable. I squeeze her shoulder and say, “If Bodin said he’ll get you out, he will. Don’t worry.”
I trust my mate to follow through with this. If he doesn’t, I’ll live up to his nickname for me. We start walking toward the dais at the front of the room, but Peablossom stops me.
“I’ll catch up,” I tell them, watching them shuffle onward with remarkably less vigor than we arrived with.
With a covert look at my pin, Peablossom says, “Such a captivating trinket adorning your hair, Shadow. Pray, where did you acquire it?”
Oh shit. She called me Shadow. I’m in trouble.
“Um.”
“I gave it to her,” Bodin says.
Peablossom gives him a dubious look, clearly not believing him. “Are you aware of its unique properties?” His eyes widen. She looks at me and raises her brows, “Are you?”
“No.”
“Hm. You are lucky indeed.” She purses her lips, taps the acorn three times, and then claps her hands, ushering me forward to catch up with the others. Bodin escorts me through the decadent room of haughty, fine-dressed Radiants studying us with veiled curiosity. When we reach the mob of raucous exhibitors, he hands me to my friends with a regretful look, but he can do nothing for me now. All Radiants must gather in their House groups to assess the exhibitors and vote, so he leaves to join the rest of the House of Shadow.
Before I can ask if Peggy’s okay, elevated music takes on a suspenseful tone and brings goosebumps. Mustardseed flutters around the exhibitors and plucks Shadows out to stand in a separate line. I look back at my friends, worried, but Geraldine says, “Team Shadow for the win.”
In other words, don’t worry about them. If I win this stupid pageant, then we all win.