Changeling (Sorcery and Society Book 1)(63)

Phillip hopped on his perch, chirping with approval.

“Thank you,” I told him. “You always know just what to say.”

Headmistress Lockwood had kept her word. No one outside of herself and Miss Morton knew about the attack. After I’d written to her, Mrs. Winter promised that she would discretely look into any possible descendants of Grimstelles at the school. But every time I spoke to her, she focused on party details. If I asked about the Revenant situation directly, she changed the subject. I assumed that meant she hadn’t found anything… or that what she found was so upsetting she didn’t want to tell me. Once she no longer had the party as a distraction, I planned to interrogate her… as much as she would allow me.

After Tom’s attack, traversing the social snake pit of Mrs. Winter’s circle seemed like child’s play. I could not plead a sprained ankle to get out of dancing at Mrs. Winter’s holiday ball. She’d made it very clear I would be leading the opening dance, “or else.” I didn’t want to know what “else” could be.

I carefully moved my heavy purple skirts through my bedroom door and, pulling Wit from my reticule, drew a strong ward symbol over the door, while whispering a spell. Both Phillip and the Mother Book were inside, and after Tom’s attack, I wasn’t willing to risk either, with so many people in the house.

The party had started twenty minutes before, but I wasn’t due to make my descent down the stairs for another three minutes. Mrs. Winter said it was very important to arrive at just the right moment. I stepped out into the hall and listened to the muted music, floating up from the hall, echoing from the ballroom. I could hear murmurs and laughter from the guests in the foyer.

I heard Owen’s footsteps behind me. “Cassie, could you help me with this cufflink?”

Owen strode down the hall in full evening dress, his dark red hair topped with ravenfeather mask. While the ladies would go all out, accessorizing their already elaborate ballgowns into proper costumes, most of the boys would be dressed like Owen, proper black tie suits and masks reflecting their house sigils. I wondered why the boys bothered coming to the ball at all, when the ladies were demonstrating solely for each other.

Owen skidded to a stop on the carpet when he looked up. “Odin’s ravens!”

“Is it all right?” I asked, peering down at my skirts. “Is there something out of place?”

A lopsided grin tilted Owen’s mouth. “Not a thing. I just can’t believe this is the same knobby-kneed girl I used to know. You look rather acceptable, really.”

“Try not to sound so surprised,” I told him as I secured the silver raven cufflink through his sleeve.

We peered over the bannister, at the handsome couples in their elaborate costumes. I recognized several girls I knew from school, but not Alicia or Ivy. They’d promised they’d attend. They were still worried about me. Even though I’d kept quiet about Tom’s attack, they’d both noticed my lackluster energy, the stubborn circles under my eyes. I’d promised, that now that we were through the semester’s exams, I would recover at Raven’s Rest before the spring term.

Alicia claimed I’d tried to usurp her place as the pale, wan member of our little trio. Enjoying myself at this party was the first step in their carefully constructed winter break relaxation plan, which also included sleeping over at each other’s houses and long, indulgent afternoons spent eating bonbons and reading age-inappropriate novels.

The Winters always took on extra Snipes to help serve on the night of the Winter ball, to make up for the massive work load. I didn’t see any members of my own family. Mum would be busy organizing the dishes in the kitchen. My father was all thumbs when it came to fancy occasions, and was kept far away. Apparently, Mrs. Winter knew better than to put Mary in the same room as Owen in a fancy dress suit.

“Ready for this?” Owen asked.

“No,” I told him, but he dragged me toward the staircase anyway. Nearly every face in the crowd tilted towards us as we carefully walked down the stairs.

“Head up, shoulders back,” Owen whispered gently. “Smile like I’ve said something very stupid. That should be easy enough to imagine.”

I snickered.

“I said smile, not laugh,” he muttered, which only made me giggle more.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you, the Translator, my dear niece, Cassandra Reed,” Mr. Winter announced in a formal tone as we reached the bottom of the stairs. The adults in the room burst into polite applause. I smiled and nodded my head in what I hoped was an obliging, but humble, fashion as Owen helped me descend the last few steps. It was surreal, having so many adults applaud us as we stood before them in our finery. I supposed this was what Guardians raised their children to be, small adults before their time. That was something I had in common with Owen. We were dressed as grown-ups, were expected to fulfill adult social obligations, and yet had few adult rights and couldn’t expect any for years.

I curtsied, and as I bobbed up, I caught sight of Mary through the swinging kitchen door. She saw me standing there arm and arm with Owen, wearing a beautiful dress, being applauded. If looks could kill, I would be stuffed and mounted in one of Mr. Winter’s display cases.

Mrs. Winter, resplendent in a gown configured to look like the white queen chess piece, swept toward me, both arms outstretched. She gave both of my cheeks air-kisses.