A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire #2)(72)

Damn, I could feel myself blushing. Giving him my hand, we began down the staircase.

“I need you to do something,” he said as we approached the bottom. “Play hostess in the receiving line.”

That was a role for the lady of the house.

“I’m not sure it’s my place,” I said.

“Normally, it wouldn’t be, but Eliza needs to make her entrance, and Mamma doesn’t enjoy parties.” Irritation laced his voice. She wouldn’t even come down for her own daughter’s debut?

“Then, yes,” I said. “Of course.”

We’d reached the entryway, and I could feel the guests noticing us. Weighing us with their eyes. “Thank you for my arrow,” I said as the first partygoers came toward me. “I don’t know what possessed you to have it made, though.”

“I’ll tell you later,” he whispered, and brought my hand to his lips.

I watched him as he walked away to meet with a few of the Masters on the other side of the room.

Somehow I remembered everyone’s name, smiled in greeting, and didn’t stumble over my small talk too much. Enough jewel-encrusted, starched, and perfumed people came through the doors to fill the whole of London. At least, it seemed like enough. I felt some gazes slide over me with puzzlement. Undoubtedly, it struck them as odd that I was playing hostess.

Finally, with everyone assembled, I stepped aside and into the crowd. This was Eliza’s cue to enter. A few minutes passed, then another few, and I feared Blackwood would go upstairs and drag her down.

Then she appeared at the top of the staircase, surveying the crowd as gasps greeted her arrival. I’d been rather proud of my dress, but it paled in comparison to hers. She wore a gown of royal-purple taffeta, the sleeves puffed and the skirt a billowing cloud. With her jet-black hair piled atop her head and loosened in artful tendrils, she looked like a Greek goddess who had descended from Olympus to mingle in London society.

Eliza had always been beautiful, but tonight she was radiant. I smiled and caught Blackwood’s eye in the crowd. His chest seemed to swell with pride.

An older man who had to be Foxglove bowed and then gave her his arm. He was rather handsome, though unfortunately graying at the temples. Eliza silently accepted him, and he led her through a sea of admirers. She showed no emotion. Chin lifted, she passed among the partygoers as though they didn’t exist.

The sight of Foxglove dampened my mood. When Blackwood and I had a moment, perhaps I could try one last time to convince him to let Eliza choose before it really was too late.

Now the party truly began, and people moved freely throughout the house. The whole first level had been made available tonight. Music wafted from several rooms, every one of which hosted tables of food and drink waiting to be sampled.

The house had been made to resemble a glen in Faerie. Brush Fae fluttered along the walls and ceilings, decorating the hall with twinkling lights. Ivy and holly adorned doorways, purple and yellow wildflowers had been arranged in glass and crystal vases, and in the library a trio of goat-hooved pipers played a song that was achingly beautiful.

The food was a marvel: roasted pheasant under glass, poached pears and cream, turtle soup and gleaming oysters, sweetbreads in sauce, stewed mushrooms, honey-glazed quail, rose and lavender jellies, and spun-sugar confections in the shape of stars and ivy leaves waited inside golden cornucopias or silver urns.

So many people stopped to speak with me, whether it was a lady admiring my gown or a gentleman sorcerer congratulating me upon the victory against Callax. One even asked if I thought we could produce more weapons to send to the fenlands. Moving through the crowd, I recalled feeling like such an outsider when I first arrived in London. Now, a few months later, it seemed as if I’d always been part of this world.

And once again, a terrible secret burned inside me. This time, I could not lay the blame on the sorcerers. It was my own fault, and an unhappy accident of birth, that separated me from them. Whatever giddiness I’d felt at the start of the ball soured at once.

Speaking of souring, I ran into Valens, who was talking with a lovely young woman. His smile evaporated when he saw me. The woman merely curtsied.

“My wife, Leticia,” Valens said to me, before encouraging her to take a seat on a nearby sofa. Indeed, she looked pale, and by the swell of her stomach I guessed she was with child. Valens watched her sit, his face relaxing into a contented smile. His tenderness surprised me.

“How are your drills progressing? Do you even practice any longer?” he asked.

I all but rolled my eyes. “Yes, now that I’m not corrected every ten seconds.”

He gave a short laugh. “I corrected you because you needed to be at your best,” he said. “You hadn’t the proper amount of training before the commendation. I would have had my entire squadron drill again because of any man’s single mistake.” He frowned. “It would be wrong to be any less hard on you because you are a woman. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Blanching, I said, “I suppose.”

Valens bowed and went after his wife. Perhaps I’d been wrong about him. Had I let my anger toward Palehook rub off on his old pupil? That wasn’t an encouraging thought.

“Miss Howel.” A smiling Fanny Magnus approached. “You look lovely this evening.” She was wearing a beautiful dark blue gown trimmed with lace, and I happily returned the compliment. “You’ve made an old widow’s night,” she said, giving a cheerful wink. It was easy to see where Magnus got the best parts of himself. “Julian’s been looking for you since we arrived. Ah!” She gave a light wave as Magnus cut toward us. He’d dressed in his naval uniform, complete with cream-colored breeches and a brilliant, deep-blue coat.