I turned, looking in her bedroom mirror. We didn’t want Hanna to know we were sneaking out, so we were helping each other dress. The triplets were already down the hall, buttoning the Graces’ gowns and attaching their painted-cardboard wings.
Once back at Highmoor, we’d raced to the attic, raiding boxes of Mama’s old gowns. There were dozens to choose from. The Graces had found dresses from when Ava and Octavia were small and eagerly rifled through them, looking for their favorite colors.
When I’d unearthed the shimmering waterfall of satin from the trunk, I’d squealed at its elegance. Though it boasted a high, modest neckline in front, the back plunged to a deep V, exposing my skin and ensuring I would not be wearing a corset tonight. A forgotten galaxy of gold and silver stars, embroidered with beads and metallic thread, speckled the bodice and puddled down the trailing skirt, making me think of the first words of the invitation.
I snatched the card off the vanity and skimmed the embossed script again:
Flushed with starlight and moonlight drowned,
All the dreamers are castle-bound.
At midnight’s stroke, we will unwind,
Revealing fantasies soft or unkind.
Show me debauched nightmares or sunniest daydreams.
Come not as you are but as you wish to be seen.
“It’s a themed ball,” Camille had announced as we read and reread the invitations, parsing the rhymes for meaning. “Nightmares and Daydreams.”
Verity had frowned. “We have to go as something scary?”
My mind flashed to her sketchbook, and I swooped in, quickly allaying her fears. “No! Some people will, but look: ‘sunniest daydreams.’ We can go as something happy too.”
“Like fairies? Like our shoes?”
I nodded, and Mercy and Honor immediately chimed in, saying they wanted to be fairies too.
“What will you be?” Verity asked, looking over the dress in my hands with uncertainty.
I held it up to my shoulders, letting the blue satin dance over my frame. “A midsummer’s night, when the sky is full of sparkling stars and fireflies.”
It had seemed like a lovely idea back in the attic, but now, wearing the dress, I hesitated. Running my hands over the glossy fabric, I was shocked at how my fingers felt every curve and hollow of my waist. I’d worn afternoon gowns with soft trainer corsets before, but they were made of heavy laces and pleated silks, nothing like this bias-cut satin. It embraced every bit of me like a lover’s caress.
“Do you think people will get it?” Camille asked, giving herself a final sweep and opening her fan with a flourish effect. She’d found the dress Mrs. Drexel had mentioned at our last fitting. Though the silhouette was slightly dated, the blood-red satin was so stunning, no one would take notice. A wide sash cascaded down Camille’s shoulder, joining a heavy bustle of rosettes and ribbons. She wrapped a ruby choker around her neck and twisted back and forth to admire the way the candlelight played off it.
Camille had been horribly afraid of fires ever since we were girls. Every fall, the Salann Islands were battered with violent storms, and though Highmoor was dotted with lightning rods—each bearing the Thaumas octopus—it wasn’t wholly immune. During a particularly nasty squall years ago, a fire broke out in the nursery. We were too young to truly remember, but Camille swore she could recall the scent of ozone and charred wood.
“Maybe if you added a touch of flames with your makeup?”
Her eyes lit up. “That’s genius!”
As she crossed to her vanity, the triplets scurried down the hall in scandalously translucent lavender georgette shifts. They claimed to be sea nymphs, and I was suddenly very thankful Papa wasn’t here. We’d never be allowed outside Highmoor again if he caught us.
I eyed the back of my dress in the mirror once more. “Maybe I ought to just wear my green gown.”
“What? No, you look lovely.” She swished a bit of orange glitter up from her eyes. “And I will not have you make us late.”
“It’s just so…” I ran my fingers down the fabric once more.
Camille’s teeth winked from beneath a wicked grin. “Carnal.”
“Exactly.”
There was a soft knock at the door. “Camille? Annaleigh?”
Camille scurried over. “You can’t be up here,” she hissed at Fisher.
He stepped back, not daring to cross the threshold. “I know, I know, but I wanted to bring you something.” He held up his hands, offering a pair of sparkling baubles.
“Masks?” Camille asked, taking one.
“Vendors were selling these outside the palace. Tonight’s dance is a masquerade. We’ll need them to get in.”
“Oh! Thank you, Fisher.” She chose the black domino. Silver sequins danced along the edges, with a plume of peacock feathers off to one side.
She looked at herself in the mirror. “It’s perfect!”
He was wearing the same suit he’d worn to the triplets’ ball, but Rosalie had coiled a bit of metallic green cloth up the sleeve of his jacket. I recognized Verity’s hand in the serpent’s face painted across his own.
“You went with a nightmare,” I said, spotting his childhood fear.
Fisher turned with a smile, then sucked in his breath. “Oh, Annaleigh…” I instantly flushed, feeling his eyes on me. “You look…” He swallowed and held out a mask. “Will this do?”
It was a sparkling little band of tulle, dusted with glitter—just enough to obscure my eyes and cheekbones. Camille came up and tucked the ends into my hair, pinning the fabric in place. It skirted my skin like a whispered promise made in shadows.
“I think we’re all ready,” she said.
Fisher glanced down the hallway, on the lookout for approaching servants. “There’s one more thing.” He darted down the hall and returned with three glasses of wine. “I filched it from the kitchen—thought we might need a little courage.” He raised his glass. “To midnight balls.”
“And satin dresses,” Camille added, hoisting her wine into the air.
They both turned to me expectantly.
“And to dancing. Always to dancing!”
* * *
The moon was a giant blue crescent, lighting our way across the lawn and down the cliff. It hung so low in the sky, I could feel its persistent tug pulling at the water, the waves, even us. A hundred thousand stars sparkled above us, as if vibrating with excitement for the party to come.
The sips of wine had emboldened me, making my steps feel more sure and chasing any worries I’d had to the side.
Once we were in the Grotto, Fisher turned Pontus’s trident, and we watched the wave wall twist and dissolve into the tunnel entrance.
“Remember, you need to latch on to a thought as you’re entering the tunnel,” Fisher warned. “Think about the ball, the invitation. It will take you there, but if something else creeps into your mind, who knows where you might end up.”
“Maybe we should go in together,” I said, eyeing the mouth of the passage as if it were a beast about to devour us all. “Holding hands. Just in case.”
The Graces nodded, their eyes as wide as silver florettes under masks of lace and paste jewels.
“You ought to go first, Fisher,” Camille reasoned. “Make sure we’re heading to the right place.”
Fisher held out his hand to Rosalie, and she grabbed Ligeia’s. Lenore was next, then Honor and Camille. She grabbed on to Mercy, who took Verity’s hand. My little sister looked up at me before squeezing my hand.
“We’re ready!” Verity announced.
He ducked into the tunnel and immediately disappeared. I watched as, one by one, my sisters entered the passage and vanished before me. As Verity faded away with a squeal of delight, I froze. After a beat, she tugged on my hand, pulling me into the unseen.
It was a
s if a thousand sets of fingertips danced over my skin, tickling and poking, prodding and fluttering. I closed my eyes against their invasion, pressing forward. When they stopped, I was in a forest of dazzling trees. They stood like silent sentinels, towering above us, with branches high overhead. The bark, a smattering of gold and silver, pulled away into papery spirals, like birch; beneath the top layers were hearts of rose gold. Metallic leaves rustled, sounding like bells jingling on the breeze.
“Did it not work?” I asked. It was a beautiful forest, to be sure, but not the ball we’d anticipated.
Fisher turned around, searching the moonlit forest. Plush carpets of emerald moss gave way to a pebbled path. “Let’s follow that.”
The Graces dashed down the trail, skipping, spinning, and laughing with exhilaration under the star-bright sky. Their joy was contagious, and we chased after them, silken skirts rippling behind us. I had no idea how far away from home we were or how we’d ever hope to return, but in this heady moment, I didn’t care. The euphoria was tangible: I could taste it in the air, the sweetness coating my mouth and going straight to my head like champagne. Lenore and I linked arms and twirled in circles, our laughter growing louder and wilder the dizzier we became.
The trees eventually tapered away as we came to the banks of a moonlit lake. The waves that lapped against the shore were perfumed with a rich green algae, not the sharp salt of our sea. On the other side of the lake, high on a hill, was a castle so perfectly designed, it looked like something out of a fairy tale. Scarlet pennants slithered in the breeze as brilliant fireworks burst above them. Across the water, we heard murmurs of appreciation and the sounds of an orchestra tuning.
“That’s it!” Rosalie exclaimed. “That’s where we were this afternoon.”
“Are we supposed to walk all the way there?” Camille asked, squinting at the distance. “The ball will be over by the time we arrive.”
Lenore let out a gasp. “No, look!”
She pointed to a sparkling glint on the lake approaching us. It was a little train of boats, each big enough to hold just one passenger. They looked like enormous swans, ferried by enchantment, with no crew. The triplets immediately boarded, their laughter verging on shrieks as the great birds tipped precariously from side to side.
Fisher helped Camille and the Graces into the next four boats.
“Hurry up, you two!” Ligeia called out. They were already halfway across the lake.
Fisher spun around, laughing at the sheer improbability of the evening. “I can’t believe we’re really doing this! Shall we?” he asked, holding out his hand.
His thumb traced around my palm, sending squirming tendrils of unease into my belly. Even though his smile was full of merriment, his eyes felt too fervent. On such a glorious night, I wanted dancing and stars and champagne, not whatever unspoken promise lay in Fisher’s gaze.
“I’ll race you!” I challenged, nestling between the giant wings.
The swan seemed to hear me and bumped away from the dock at a rapid clip. There were no oars, no rudder, nothing I could use to guide the boat, but it seemed to know exactly what its course was. On Salten, this would have been terrifying, but near a grove of silvery trees, wearing a sparkling mask, I found it exhilarating.
We reached the other side of the lake in no time at all. The castle towered above us on the crest of the bluff. A set of stairs directly across from the docks zigzagged across the hill and up to the palace gates. We paused to consider the climb ahead of us before scurrying up the marble treads.
“Two hundred and nineteen, two hundred and twenty…,” Mercy said, counting each step to pass the time. At three hundred, the triplets begged her to stop. “Three hundred and forty-eight, three hundred and forty-ni-i-ine…” She dragged the word out, then hopped up the last step with a puff. “Three hundred and fifty!”
Congregating on the plaza outside the main gates, we paused, flicking our fans back and forth to create a breeze as we caught our breath. The palace, built of obsidian blocks, rose seven stories high, with jagged turrets on every corner. Tall braziers illuminated the crimson carpet leading into the main entrance. The facade reflected the dancing flames, winking as though it too was on fire.
Mountains rose up around the lake, snowcapped and covered with dense forests. A mist settled over the water, giving the scene a mysterious softness.
“Where on earth are we?” Fisher asked, breathing in the cool night air as he stood by the stone parapet. He was the only one who didn’t seem affected by the climb. I wondered how many times a day he had to race up Old Maude’s winding staircase.
“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 interr
upted, 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.
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