Antebellum Awakening (The Network Series #2)(89)

Like the other Captains, Brecken looked handsome in a deep red shirt underlying a black overcoat. Colorful emblems stitched onto his jacket indicated his achievements as a Captain of the Guards, silent testimonies to his years of work. Camille whirled around, wide-eyed and shocked.

“Brecken?” she whispered.

He grinned with a wicked smile.

“As if you ever doubted that I’d come,” he said and whisked her onto the dance floor without another word. The two of them disappeared, absorbed into the teeming mass of bodies.

“Michelle?” came a voice from behind.

Michelle and I looked back to see Nicolas standing there, slightly hunched and burly. He stood several inches taller than Michelle’s towering frame, with beefy shoulders and hands to match.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he said, smiling in his soft, quiet way. “You look wonderful tonight. More beautiful than I could have ever imagined.”

A dazzling blush crept over her face when she ducked her head down.

“Merry meet, Nicolas,” she whispered so quietly the violins in the background absorbed her voice. He smiled and then bowed once to me.

“Merry meet, Miss Bianca. You look lovely in dark blue.”

I smiled. “Merry meet, Nicolas. Thank you.”

A cumbersome silence followed. Michelle opened her mouth to say something, decided against it, and looked to me with a wide-eyed plea for help.

“Would you do me a favor, Nicolas?” I asked.

His eyebrows rose in surprise. “I would love to.”

“We were just on our way to get something to drink,” I said. “But I have a terrible headache and don’t plan on moving very far. Would you mind going with Michelle? It’s not good manners to walk around alone at a ball.”

A smile so wide I thought it would split his head met my request.

“I would love to help! If Michelle doesn’t mind, of course.”

Michelle looked up, startled.

“No!” she said too loudly. She calmed her response. “I mean . . . I’d love it if you walked over there with me.”

He offered her his arm and she took it, sending me a secret, grateful smile over her shoulder.

Two friends taken care of, I thought, circling back around to face the dance. One to go.

“Well,” I said to Leda, gazing around, “I guess we’ll just be stuck here waiting to dance together.”

“Speak for yourself,” she scoffed. “I have a dance or two lined up.”

To my disbelief, Rupert moved toward us with a hand out to Leda. His red mustache gleamed in the candlelight and looked so proper that I wondered if he’d actually brushed it before the ball. Leda took his hand and disappeared without a glance back.

“Good for you, Leda,” I murmured with a smile that quickly faded. I hoped this wasn’t goodbye.

All for the best, I reminded myself. Dancing wasn’t my idea of a good time. At any rate, I had plans.

I was scouting out the ballroom when a hand captured my wrist and tugged, twirling me around until I stood face-to-face with Merrick. I didn’t comprehend for several seconds that we were dancing, but soon realized that he glided me along without me even knowing it. A little flutter of butterflies moved deep in my stomach. Did they teach all the Protectors how to dance so smoothly?

“Merry meet,” I said, clearing my throat, mortified to feel a blush rising to my cheeks. Like the rest of the Protectors, Merrick wore a simple outfit that blended in; in his case, black pants and a white shirt with a black jacket over it. It was formal enough to get by, but not nearly as stuffy and pompous as some of the other witches. His hair, freshly washed, was pulled back into a ponytail. The sandy streaks of brown and blonde looked especially bright in the ballroom lighting. His shaven face looked temptingly soft. I curled my fingers into my palm instead of reaching up to feel his cheek. He hadn’t even changed his appearance for the Ball this evening. “I hear that congratulations are in order.”

He smiled with that wry quality I’d come to appreciate so much, like he constantly knew something no one else did.

“Thanks.”

“Are you relieved?”

He lifted his eyebrows. “A little. Now the hard stuff really begins. You look different tonight. Is it your hair?”

“Different?” I repeated.

“Okay, beautiful.”

“Uh . . . thanks. Who taught you how to dance?”

His eyes clouded up like a thunderstorm. “My mother.”

“You don’t talk about her much,” I said, surprised to hear her mentioned.

“That’s no accident," he said, his forehead wrinkled, getting right to business. “Listen, I wanted to tell you that I have a bad feeling about tonight. Something’s wrong. Something’s off.”

A shudder skimmed my spine.

Yes. I’m probably part of that reason.

I opened my mouth to tell him to try to get the High Priestess out of the ballroom, or at least to take my father far away, but the binding’s magic activated and stopped the words in my throat. I drew in a deep breath and looked away, frustrated. My eyes latched onto the High Priestess at the far end of the room. She wore a white dress with feathery extensions that looked quite atrocious on her. My eyes trailed to the nearer side of the room, where Papa stood with several witches around him, in deep discussion. The open windows streamed summer air into the stuffy room. Beyond the night I thought I saw a shadow shift in the air, momentarily blocking a star. Dragons?