by Lish McBride
“I hope I’m under consideration.” He stopped her before she could respond. “You don’t have to tell me, and I don’t expect any decisions today of course, but I wanted you to know that I’m serious in my attentions.”
She nodded. Her mother would be over the moon.
He released her hand so he could dip into an inner jacket pocket and pull out a small wooden box, tied neatly with gold ribbon. “I also brought you something.” He handed the box to her with a flourish.
“A gift?” She took it somewhat reluctantly. “Latimer, you don’t have to—”
“I know.” He bit his lip, and Merit couldn’t tell if he was doing it unconsciously or trying to draw her attention to the perfect curve of his mouth. Something told her it was intentional. “I would love to claim to be completely altruistic, but the truth is that I’m willing to bribe my way into your affections.”
She laughed, as she was meant to, and opened the box. The inside was lined with silk and held a delicate silver chain with a small, ornately carved locket. Merit carefully took it out, releasing the catch so the locket folded open. Inside was a small painting of his face. It was well done, capturing him exactly. She wasn’t sure what to say. The locket was lovely, but he’d still given her a picture of himself as a gift. “Thank you.”
“There’s a trick to it.” He took the locket from her hands and showed her another spot on its side. “It’s a pressure switch. Press it.” He pushed down, and the portrait of his perfect face popped forward, revealing the delicate surface of a magic mirror.
She clapped her hands together in genuine glee. “That’s ingenious. And so generous!”
He undid the clasp, holding it out for her, a wicked look on his face. “I’m not going to pretend otherwise—it is a very generous gift. Thoughtful and helpful. Not only do you get to look at me, but you can call me whenever you wish.”
“And you’re hoping this will put you ahead of the competition.” She gathered up her hair and held it away from her neck.
“Of course.” He leaned to put the chain around her throat. “I aim to win. I think we would make a good match, Merit. We both come from long and distinguished lines. Everything I’ve seen of you does you credit.” He connected the chain, letting his fingers trail down it to straighten the locket. “But I also know what it’s like to be different. To have people look at you and treat you as other. I’m not a baron. My fairy line comes from Tirada. Even in my own lands, I’m different.” His voice was gentle and lulling, but there was power in it. Not the power of fairy magic, but the very human power of charisma.
His fingers lingered on the chain. “It suits you.” Latimer’s smile was as soft as his voice and held that same power. Merit felt herself drawn in, wondering what he thought of her. Remove her bloodlines and wealth, put her in a country dance, and she wouldn’t turn any heads. But the way Latimer looked at her made her feel as if she were that kind of girl, someone lovely, enchanting. Special. He leaned in, his fingers brushing the edge of her jaw. When she didn’t draw away, he dipped his head, his lips meeting hers.
Before her curse, Merit had kissed a few boys. Her early kisses were fairly terrible, but after much discussion with her friends, she’d decided that was normal. There was a learning curve to kissing. A learning curve that involved an awful lot of drool and unpleasantness. When you thought about it too much, tongues were weird.
Two kisses stood out from the pack. The first was from Jasper—she didn’t think he’d been particularly skilled, but she’d adored him and forgiven a lot. The second had actually been post-curse. Merit had taken a dose of Caen’s bloom and joined Ellery and Kaiya at a local barn dance. She’d danced for two hours, ending the night in a dark corner with a tempting boy with fine eyes. The kiss had been sweet, but nothing had ultimately come of it. Still, it was a pleasant memory. For a second she wondered what kissing Tevin felt like, then felt guilty.
Latimer’s kiss was nice. His lips were warm and firm, his touch gentle. He obviously had some skill, even if it didn’t set her world on fire. The kiss was pleasant. She could work with pleasant. Latimer pulled back, pausing to take her hand and press it to his mouth.
“With that, I will leave you.” He released her hand and stood. Once he was at her door, he paused, giving her a formal bow. “I do hope you’ll continue to think of me favorably and consider what I’ve said.”
Merit couldn’t suppress a small smile. “How could I not?”
Another bow, and then he slipped out her door.
Merit touched her lips and tried not to think about riding under the sweetheart bridge and the kiss that didn’t happen. She failed miserably.
CHAPTER 20
A CHARMING MASQUERADE
That night, Freddie took Merit to see a play. His family had their own box in the balcony, the seats made of plush red velvet. Merit liked the theater, but she was tired of going out. Weary of smiling, nodding, and making small talk. Freddie didn’t try to kiss her or even hold her hand, but he hinted—broadly—that his parents were hoping to hear from her mother about wedding contracts. She excused herself at intermission, claiming a headache, and he didn’t question her. He kindly put her into his own carriage with instructions to take her home, then continued with his evening out. She was absurdly grateful for his inattention.
Merit’s mother was in the entryway when she got home, dressed elegantly in a rich burgundy gown and adjusting her earrings as she waited for the carriage to be brought around. “You’re home early. Something wrong? Shall I send for Ellery?” She lifted Merit’s chin. “Perhaps I should stay home tonight. You look peaky.”
“I’m just tired,” Merit said, pushing her mother’s hand away. She felt a pang of sadness, wishing that she had the kind of mother who would help unburden her, instead of adding to the weight on her shoulders. A mother who listened. “Nothing to worry yourself over.”
Lady Zarla pursed her lips. “Of course I’m worried. I’m your mother.” Her eyes narrowed. “Was it something Freddie did? I’ll mirror his parents.”
“No,” Merit said, a little too sharply. “Freddie was fine. I really am tired. I’m not used to this.”
Lady Zarla nodded, accepting the answer. She picked up her beaded clutch from the table, only to set it back down again. Instead she stepped close to Merit, grabbing her shoulders. The faint jasmine of her perfume teased Merit’s nostrils, bringing with it the memory of so many nights of her mother kissing her goodbye before leaving for the next ball or dinner party. She rubbed Merit’s shoulders briskly. “No, I’m not going to leave it at that. Not used to what, exactly?”
Merit hesitated. Her instinct was to say something glib, end the conversation, and get them both on their way. But could she really complain that her mother didn’t listen if Merit didn’t at least try to talk to her? When had she stopped giving her a chance? Her betrothal ball? That didn’t sit right with Merit. She couldn’t control her mother, and it was likely she would disappoint Merit again. But that didn’t mean Merit wanted to cut herself down to manageable pieces, not anymore. Not even for her mother. She would give her the truth, and if she didn’t like it, so be it.
Merit lifted her chin. “I like my nights in the city—I enjoy the theater, some dancing, seeing my friends. But I also like being home. I miss playing games with Ellery and Kaiya, or sitting by the fire with a book. I just miss home.”
Her mother picked up her evening wrap from the small table by the door. She draped it around her shoulders as she stared at the door, her eyes unseeing. “I hadn’t really thought—” She shook her head. “We’re so similar, sometimes, that I forget that we are also quite different.”
“You think we’re similar?” Merit was sure she hadn’t heard the words right.
“Oh, yes,” her mother said, the corners of her mouth twitching. “We both overanalyze everything, and we can be more stubborn than mules when we want something.” Her smile faded
. “I love Veritess. Always something to do. I forget that you need more quiet.” She reached out and traced her fingers along Merit’s hairline, tucking away a few stray tendrils. “Why don’t we throw a house party out in the country? Invite Freddie, Cedric, and Latimer?”
“You—you would let me do that?” Merit was afraid to so much as breathe in case it ruined this fragile peace between them.
Lady Zarla’s lips curved in a gentle arc. “Of course. It’s a brilliant idea, actually. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. You’ll get to really compare them, side by side, no distractions. I’ll send out invitations tomorrow morning, and we’ll be out in the country before you can blink.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
Lady Zarla straightened her wrap. “You’re welcome, darling.” She took a step to the door and then stopped, turning her head back to Merit. “I don’t suppose we could leave your new friends here?”
Merit shook her head.
Lady Zarla sighed and left, mumbling about their home being overrun by peasants.
They didn’t quite leave in a blink. Her mother was not a light packer, and things needed to be organized, invitations sent. They lost a full day to that but were on the train the next morning. Besides the suitors, Lady Zarla had invited Glendon and a few of her friends, and let Merit invite Willa and Diadora. Merit thought Lady Zarla was secretly hoping that one of the sisters would take a shine to Tevin and keep him out of the way. Merit didn’t disabuse her of this notion, mostly because she wanted to see her friends.
The Cravan country house was a shining thing—white brick that occasionally sparkled in the light, and a gabled roof outlined in intricate silver woodwork in a curving pattern, with two tall towers jutting off to the sides. A large stable joined the house through a covered walkway. The grounds were immaculate, the colors of the flora pleasing—Tevin saw purple foxglove, pink and red rhododendrons, white lilacs, and some vibrantly orangey-red flowers that he couldn’t identify. Though the colors were bright and striking, the planting had been done simply, to avoid taking attention from a fountain in the center of the grounds. The fountain was white marble and tiered—wyrms ringed the bottom, forming the base. The center was a column of water and hippocampi, swimming upward. At the top, the water crested and a phoenix, its wings spreading for flight, emerged from the waves.
Val let out a low whistle when they arrived. “That’s something, isn’t it?”
“Pick up your jaw, Val, or they’re going to think we’re hayseeds.”
“I’m proud of who I am,” Val said. “And see no reason to pretend otherwise.”
Even though she likely wanted to put Tevin, Val, and Amaury out in the stables, Lady Zarla wouldn’t have been able to explain why she put her guests in such accommodations, and had grudgingly agreed to give them a set of rooms in the east wing of the house. Exactly opposite Merit’s rooms.
On the first night, Lady Zarla had planned a masquerade ball to welcome everyone to her home. The Cravans were thoughtful enough to provide masks for those who didn’t have them just lying about at home. Considering the kind of lifestyle most of the fairyborn aristocracy led, it was quite possible that many of them had entire trunks full of costumes in their closets gathering dust.
Tevin got ready for the masquerade while being stared at by the unfortunate glass eyes of a large stuffed marar. The fur was a rich black, covered in darker rosettes. It looked like the kind of creature who could move soundlessly through the night. He was surprised to find it in the house, because he didn’t think Merit would care for it, but had decided it was a family heirloom.
“I swear it follows me as I move,” Tevin told Amaury as he checked his suit in the mirror. Black tie, naturally. The fact that they might be tired from their travels didn’t seem to occur to Lady Zarla.
“Yes, and it’s judging you.” Amaury set a box down. “I asked the maid, and she said it’s a local forest creature.”
“A marar,” Tevin said. “Merit and I saw one at the carnival.”
“The carnival you went to without me, I might add.” Amaury opened the box, pushing aside layers of tissue paper. “They’re apparently named after the sound they make sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“If you’re lucky, you hear the sound. If you’re not lucky, you hear nothing and you’re dinner.” Amaury finished sorting through the layers of paper and pulled something out.
“Is that my mask?”
“Yes, Merit apparently picked out ours especially.” Amaury blinked at it and barked a laugh. Tevin couldn’t honestly remember the last time he’d heard Amaury laugh, so he stopped what he was doing and looked at the mask.
“I’m beginning to really like your lady,” Amaury said, his eyes gleaming.
“She’s not my lady.” Tevin picked up the mask. It covered most of his face, leaving only his bottom lip and chin free. Curved horns curled up over the top, the beastly face a twisted and angry grimace. It was a thing of fine craftsmanship, if not actually beautiful. “She made me a beast.”
“She picked all our masks. I have no idea when she had the time. Naturally, I’m a fox.”
Tevin sighed. “I suppose I should be grateful she didn’t make me a snake.”
“You’d make a poor snake.” Amaury made for the door. “Also, I’d check on Val if I were you. She’s usually dressed before me, but I haven’t seen hide nor hair of her yet.” He shut the door softly behind him, not waiting for Tevin’s response.
Tevin stared at his mask for a moment, trying to decipher what Merit meant by it. Finally he gave up and went to look for his friend.
* * *
• • •
Tevin tapped a knuckle on Val’s door, but didn’t wait for her to answer before he walked in. He wished he had once he caught sight of Val. The jaunty tune he’d been whistling died abruptly. Val stood in front of a mirror, her hands on her hips as she stared at her reflection. She was wearing a sunshine-yellow dress with lace detailing around the hem, sleeves, and bodice. Her hair poufed oddly, like a small dog that had been struck by lightning. Repeatedly. Strips of pink stretched across each cheekbone as well as her lips, and someone had attempted to darken her eyelashes and eyebrows. The overall effect was one of perpetual surprise.
“What happened to you?”
Val scowled at him, and her hand went self-consciously to her skirt. “What?”
“You’re wearing a gown.”
“It’s a ball.”
“Yes, which is why I expected a suit, like you’ve worn to every other ball I’ve ever attended with you. You hate gowns.”
“I don’t. There are some good things about them.”
“Let me rephrase: you hate gowns on you. Last time your mother wanted you to wear one, she had to bribe you with new tack for your oaf of a horse.”
“People can change,” Val said defensively. She twirled, eyeing the dress in the mirror. “Does it look that terrible?”
Tevin sighed and examined his friend carefully. It wasn’t that the dress was terrible. Or at least wouldn’t be terrible on someone three inches taller, ten pounds heavier, and with drastically different coloring than Val. But the combination of the dress, the hair, and the rather heavy-handed approach to lip paint and eyelash tint gave the overall appearance of terrible. Okay, if he was being honest, the dress was also ghastly. But he wasn’t sure he could be honest with Val. He considered lying to her, since his usually confident friend had clearly lost all of her good sense.
He took her gently by the shoulders. “I think you should burn it and then sprinkle the ashes in a river. Maybe separate rivers.” So much for lying to her.
Val collapsed onto her bed. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
He squinted. “What, exactly, did you do to your hair?”
“I tried to curl it.” She reached up and patted the top of her head. There was an audi
ble crunch.
Tevin crouched down so that he was on eye level with his friend. “This? It isn’t you, Val. What’s going on?”
“Kaiya.”
Tevin tipped her face up to his. “Kaiya snuck in here and did this to you? Was this revenge, Val? Did you do something to her? Something unforgivable?”
Val sniffed, blinking rapidly, a sure sign that she was trying not to cry. Val cried when she was frustrated. Tevin had been so wrapped up in his own mess that he hadn’t been paying enough attention to Val’s mess.
“I can’t get her to see me, Tev. I’ve never had that problem before.”
“Yes, well, when you’re an adorably dashing yet rough-and-tumble fairyborn, debutantes do seem to fall in your lap.”
“Right?” Val sniffed. “So why hasn’t she?”
Tevin crossed his arms and leaned onto her knees. “Because Kaiya isn’t a debutante. She’s not a blushing barmaid swooning over your title. Not that there is anything wrong with any of those things, but Kaiya is a trained warrior. Her uncle is an ambassador. If you want to impress her, you’re going to have to actually work for it. This isn’t the way to do it.”
“Are you sure?” Val ran her hands along the fabric. “I figured maybe she was more into this sort of thing?”
Tevin shook his head. “Val, you’re wearing a hideous dress that you hate and makeup, which you also hate. It makes your skin itch. Trust me, this isn’t a good gambit.”
Val played with her cuff. “Kaiya’s . . . She’s—” Val let out a breath. “She’s amazing, Tevin. Have you ever seen her practice her knife work?”
“I haven’t, no.”
“The way she moves,” Val gushed. “I think I’d stand still and let her gut me, just to keep watching. She makes me want to be conquered.”
“I think she’s cracked your brain,” Tevin said. “I’ll get Ellery.”
“I watched her training yesterday, and she’s just as fast with her hatchets and crossbows—”