House of Salt and Sorrows(39)
“I’ve never felt so very far from home,” Camille admitted, joining him.
“That’s because we’ve never been past Astrea,” Ligeia said.
“Never?” He turned and smiled at us. “Then what a fine adventure your first trip to the mainland will be.”
A heavy bell rang out, thudding so loudly I felt it deep in my chest.
“It’s nearly midnight!” Rosalie cried. “We need to get in now or we’ll miss everything!”
Digging the invitations from our cloak pockets, we joined the queue of stragglers seeking admittance. Everyone was dressed in jewel tones and shimmering blacks. The masks ranged from simple dominoes to elaborately plumed and bejeweled masterpieces. Some had painted faces, giving them a mysterious leer or puckered lips. There were horns and scales, flames and glitter. Everyone vied to outdo the splendor of the palace.
Inside, the halls were festooned in scarlet banners, each embroidered with a howling wolf. It wasn’t a sigil I was familiar with, and I made a mental note to look it up once we returned to Highmoor. I felt hopelessly out of my depth navigating the forbidding onyx-colored corridors. Even the air smelled darker here, heavily perfumed with blackened resin, musk, and burning incense. This was far grander than anything we Thaumas girls had ever seen.
“You’re the daughter of a duke,” I whispered to myself. “You belong here.”
Lenore overheard me and patted my hand. “I’m scared too,” she admitted with a small smile.
We followed the crowds down hallways lined with full suits of armor. Red plumes and wicked swords bedecked the frozen knights, and I wondered how loudly I might shriek if one suddenly came to life. Mercy reached out and touched a pair of boots before pulling her hand away with ghoulish glee.
Music swelled somewhere to our left. The orchestra was readying for the first number. Around the corner, a great hall opened up, with a series of sharply pointed archways along one side, framing the ballroom.
Crowds of people milled about, talking and laughing. Everyone seemed to know everyone else, and no one took any notice of us. We exchanged breathless glances. The moment we’d been dreaming of was now at hand, yet none of us made a motion to enter.
“Miss Camille Thaumas.” Fisher stepped forward with a gallant bow. “I would be so honored to have your first dance.”
After a moment’s pause, she nodded, visibly relaxing. They went inside, and we all followed, skirting the walls to watch as the dancing began.
“May I have this dance?”
A man dressed in dark blue stretched his hand out to Rosalie. With an eager smile, she was whisked onto the crowded dance floor. Lenore and Ligeia soon followed. Their dresses fluttered as they twirled beneath the most unsettling fresco I’d ever seen.
It was a painted forest, dark and deep. A pack of wolves raced through black trees, chasing after a large buck. The deer’s eyes glistened in terror as it rose on its hind legs, trying to free itself from a mess of briars. Real wrought-iron vines twisted across the painted ceiling’s length. Some draped down, curling above our heads. Others knotted in on themselves, holding little orbs of bright red light.
“Poor deer,” Verity said, following my gaze.
“Why is the prettiest girl in the room sitting this dance out?” Fisher interrupted, coming up beside us.
Camille swirled by on the arms of a man wearing a mask of red leather, like a phoenix bursting from the flames. It matched her dress perfectly. Her head tilted toward him as she listened intently to every word he said. They looked radiant together, a king and queen presiding over their fiery court.
Fisher grabbed Verity and guided her out onto the floor, spinning her around and around until she snorted with laughter. He threw a wink back at me, promising I was next.
I made my way along the sides of the dance floor, amazed by the sheer spectacle. At the far end of the hall, a fireplace took up nearly the entire width of the wall. A massive blaze roared in the obsidian chamber, where a whole hog roasted on a spit. More metal vines crept around columns and along archways. Brilliant cherry-colored flowers, each with a small votive candle in the center, sprinkled down them. The petals had been painstakingly pieced together with stained glass.
“Quite a feat of engineering, wouldn’t you say?” I heard from behind me. “And I’ve not seen a single candle burn out. The staff must be going crazy replacing all those flames.”
I turned and my heart thudded wildly in my chest.
“Cassius!” I wanted to exclaim it, to loudly express the surprise of seeing him here, but my words came out with no more power than a breathless whisper.
He was dressed in a fine suit of blackest wool, impeccably tailored to his frame. A dark mask obscured his face from forehead to nose. Tiny jet beads sparkled at the edges.
He offered a quick smile. “Are you so certain? I am wearing a mask.”
Though he teased, I would recognize those blue eyes anywhere. Dark as the sea, with specks of silver, they’d haunted my dreams every night since our encounter on Selkirk.
“What are you doing here?”
“The same as you, I’d imagine. The same as all of them.” He swept his arm across the room.
“They’re all dancing,” I pointed out. I didn’t know if it was the anonymity of the mask or the opulent and seductive pull of the castle, but I’d never felt so brazen in all my life. I was practically daring him to ask me to dance.