by Chanda Hahn
In the middle of the night, I’d hear her tapping on the window to get in. I’d open it, and she’d fly into the room in a whirl of feathers as she transformed back into her nightdress. Her eyes glassy and cheeks flushed from excitement. She never shared with us where she went or what she did during the night. After all, what was one more secret in the house of Eville?
Chapter Four
The carriage rocked, slowing as we entered the city of Thressia. I stared out the window in awe. It was different than my small town. Where Nihill was like an old babbling brook with few newcomers coming and going, Thressia was a raging river. People of all ethnicities and races moved among the streets, some on horses and others on tamed fae creatures, a few on wagons that moved with steam-powered contraptions. When the loud churning of a steam wagon passed me, I tried to study the copper mechanism and looked for the hint of magic that must power the cart. My mouth fell open when I saw a young man balancing on a two-wheeled thing that was propelled by his scrawny legs.
Fascinating. My word, how odd and different this kingdom was from Florin and Baist.
We had been traveling almost nonstop for the last two days. Every waystation we came to, the driver would feed his fae horses, pat them down, and take only short breaks where he would sleep for a few marks, and then we would be back on the road. He never stopped to pick up any passengers, even though he had the opportunity to increase his fare. I believe he was working on fear and very little sleep.
I, on the other hand, spent most of my time worrying, and sleeping—trying to figure out how I was going to exact revenge, and praying that I wouldn’t screw it up and dishonor my family.
I wanted to ask the driver if we had reached Thressia, but then I remembered the curse I placed on him. Drat. He couldn’t tell me, unless I removed the curse, and I wasn’t sure if I could duplicate it with as much success a second time. The driver came to a stop as he waited for traffic to clear.
“Excuse me,” I called out the window at a young boy walking the street, carrying a load of wood far too large for his diminutive shoulders. The boy turned, his face hollow and dark circles hanging under his hungry eyes. His hair was matted, and his pants covered in dirt. “Yes, milady?” His face turned up in the hopes of earning a coin or an odd job. He put down his load.
“What city is this?” I jabbed my finger out and made a circle to encompass everything.
“You are in the Thressia,” he answered, reaching to pull up his pants that had begun to sink low on his boney hips.
“Oh, how wonderful,” I said, relieved that we had arrived, but now unsure of what my next step would be. I bit my lip and debated my options.
He tilted his head and studied me. “You here for the big to-do up at the palace?”
“Why, yes, I am.”
“Do you have lodging?”
“No, not yet.”
“All of the inns have been booked out for days. You ain’t gonna find any here.”
Double drat! I hadn’t thought that far in advance.
He shifted his feet, and his eyes looked to the ground. “If you haven’t found a place to stay, I’d suggest Madam Pantalonne’s Broken Heart tavern. She has a few rooms to let. Just make sure you lock your door at night.”
At this point, I would have taken any lodging at all, even a stable, if it meant that I could stay within the city limits. He reached down to pick up his load and hefted it back onto his shoulders. His face winced under the pressure, and I could imagine his bones cracking under the weight like brittle twigs.
“Where are your parents?” I asked, now utterly confused as to why he looked like a breeze could knock him over. His spindly legs were shoved into boots that were too big for him.
“Don’t got none,” he said simply and began to carry his load down an alley and turned to look over at me and pointed. “It’s that way. I’m making a delivery to there now. You can follow me. If you’d like.”
An orphan. Like me. It struck me how similar we both were, and I felt a moment of kinship.
“Yes.” I rapped on the top of the transport, and the driver leaned down, fear radiating off him in waves.
“Change of plans. Go to the Broken Heart tavern.”
Another head bob and the transport dragged forward as a plan began to form in my head. Just make it to the ball, get the prince to notice me, and get chosen to stay on. Then I will have my chance for revenge. Simple, yes, but for someone who had never flirted or had a true kiss, maybe impossible.
Madam Pantalonnes looked like it was a cesspool for thieves, rakes, and ladies of the night. An enchanted street sign hung over the door and would flicker to show a heart. Then the second flicker would reveal a glowing knife stabbing the heart. I paused to take in the ingenuity of the spell. It was a form of a flickering glamour on a timer.
“Fascinating.” I smiled and stepped through the door, the driver hot on my heels with my small case.
A tall, thin woman with a pink candy-colored wig, which hung low over her ears, greeted me as I walked through the doors on the heels of the boy. “Welcome to the Broken Heart, where you can unburden your heart or drown your sorrows.” Madam Pantalonne grinned. “Are you here for a drink or room?”
The front sitting room was a macabre atmosphere of black and purple velvet décor. Overly stuffed chairs surrounded dark wooden gaming tables, and purple velvet curtains kept out the light and prying eyes. Strong incense wafted across my nose, and I recognized the scent of magic and a hint of frankincense. Most of the tables were occupied with men either playing tricks or blood stones, which consisted of flipping black and red stones and cornering your opponent.
The serving ladies wore bells around their hips, bright-colored lace across their face, and silk skirts. Some of the tables were nestled in dark corners with more curtains that provided the occupants privacy.
“A room,” I said, watching a serving tray with a glass of dark swirling liquid and smoke billowing from the top go past me and be served to a table of one. It was similar to one of the potions we brewed, and I wondered what exactly was in the drink.
Madam looked me over and glanced at my driver behind me. “By the hour or—”
“N-No, nothing like that,” I blurted out, feeling my cheeks flush red. “For a few days at least.”
Her painted lips pursed, and she gave me a sly look. “Hmm, I see. Hoping to snag the prince, are you? Many have tried to capture his heart, but let me warn you.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “The prince is incapable of love.”
I swallowed nervously at the way her voice dropped. What did she know that I didn’t?
“Which is why I presume that the king is tired of waiting and forcing him to pick a bride by the end of the week,” she added flippantly. With a finger, Madam Pantalonne beckoned me to follow her through the front room toward the back stairs. As I maneuvered around the tables, long legs suddenly barred my path, trapping me between two tables.
“Pardon me,” I snapped impatiently. There was no room to go around. He had obviously stopped me on purpose as Madam had passed only seconds before.
“You are very much pardoned,” the man said and crossed his legs at his ankles. Still not moving. The way the room was dimly lit and the position of his chair had him sitting in the shadows. The candles at his table had been blown out. So, I was left with addressing his silhouette.
“I wish to pass, and you are blocking my way.”
“Then do so. Just lift your skirts and step over my legs.” There was a teasing lilt to his voice, and it sounded like he was smiling.
“That is improper,” I seethed.
“For a lady, yes.” He leaned forward, his face coming into the light. “But you are not a lady. For ladies do not stay in an establishment like this, where secrets are sold and bought for a kiss.”
I sucked in my breath, one at the insult and second because the candlelight accented his strong jawline and a day’s worth of growth, which gave him a rakish look. Tousled dark hair hung low over
his ears, as if a woman had run her hands through it instead of a comb. The color of his cold, hard eyes was indiscernible to me in the low light. There was something otherworldly and beautiful about him, and it fascinated me.
“I assure you I have no secrets,” I said, spinning on my heel to find a different way around those long, alluring legs.
His hand shot out and gripped my wrist, his thumb rubbing ever so slightly across my skin. The touch was so electrifying, it sent prickles of excitement up my arm, and I shivered.
“That is a lie. Everyone has secrets. Secrets are currency in this world, and I am the trove, the guardian of all that is whispered in the night. And, therefore, by nature, I am very rich indeed.” He brought my hand up, brushing his lips across the underside of my wrist, and I felt a flicker of a feathery kiss. “What would it cost to gain one of yours?”
“You will have to go elsewhere to pry for gossip. For any secrets I have are buried deep,” I answered, pulling my wrist away, his lips having left a burning sensation behind. A warmth spread uncomfortably through my stomach.
“Then I shall get a shovel.” He laughed, the corners of his mischievous eyes lifting.
During this exchange, the man had stood up and pulled me even closer to his side. I was entranced by the poetry that flowed from his mouth like sweet candy, and I couldn’t help but be drawn to those lips. He was a seducer. No doubt and I was his prey, and I was trapped within his gaze, unwilling to pull away.
“Dorian, stop playing with my guest,” Madam Pantalonne snapped impatiently, her slipper tapping on the rug. “She is of no concern to you and will be gone in a few days once the prince finds a bride.”
With her words, the spell that Dorian had woven over me broke, like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm. Shaking my head, I stepped back, and he was reluctant to release me, but I didn’t understand why.
“Then even more so that I set my eyes on you. For you would be wasting your time at the ball. Hundreds of girls will be bedecked with generations of their family’s wealth flaunted around their necks. You, my dear sparrow, will be surrounded by swans. Save yourself the embarrassment and stay here with me. I can guarantee you that I am a far better dancer then the prince.”
Was he insinuating that I was ugly? Yes, my looks were by far plain compared to my sister Rosalie, the stunning beauty that she was. Would I waste my time by going and for sure not pass the criteria needed to stay? I had to stay and find out what happened to my mother, and the answers were in the palace.
My eyes narrowed, and my anger rose at his insult. My lip curled in disgust. “And you are nothing more than a mongrel.”
A deep, manly chuckled followed. “A bastard mongrel that steals things that belong to others to scrape by. You are correct.”
“What do you want?” I said irritably.
“You.” Dorian’s eyes had locked onto mine, and I could see that they were a startling gray blue. Like ice.
“Never going to happen,” I snarled.
He gave me a bow. “Then, until we meet again.”
“We won’t,” I said stiffly.
“Oh, but we will. I guarantee it. You will come to me eventually for help. They all do.” He gave me a slight salute before turning to the side to allow me to pass. Within seconds he turned his attention to one of the serving ladies, his hand wrapped around her waist possessively. He muttered into her dark hair, and she leaned into him. I stood there frozen as his cold eyes met mine when he looked back at me as if knowing I would still be watching him, that I would see his philandering behavior, and he was right. I couldn’t pull my eyes away.
My stomach churned as the feelings that I knew too well rose up within me. Jealousy, anger, hurt—all three emotions fueled my power, but I was baffled by the one he had stirred up. The one where I couldn’t pull my eyes away from his lips—desire.
I had been insulted, manhandled, told I was plain, and then easily discarded, all in the span of a few minutes. I hated Dorian for making me feel inadequate. No one, especially a stranger, should have the power to control the way I feel. A sorceress must be in control of their emotions at all times, like controlling a wild fire. We must know when to fan the flames and when to dowse them. Dorian was like fuel that, if added to my already spotty magic, was a recipe for chaos.
I must avoid him at all costs.
Abruptly turning away from his magnetic stare, I ran my shin right into an end table and swore. I had hoped that my erratic display would go unnoticed, but a hefty laugh echoed my way.
His laughter.
He had seen.
Not daring to look back, I held my head high and came to the patiently waiting Madam Pantalonne. She had witnessed the whole exchange. Shaking her head at me, she warned, “Stay away from that one. Dorian is no good.”
“Then why do you allow him to come here. Why not kick him out of your establishment?” I asked.
“I would run the rascal out in a heartbeat.” She looked at him fondly and sighed. “But he is good for my heart and business.”
I let my mind go wild at all the hidden meanings that suggested. Did he bring in people, steal secrets, pay for nights of passion with the ladies, spend copious amounts of gold on drinks?
I had to bring my head out of the clouds as I almost tripped going up a flight of stairs to a small landing only big enough for the two of us to stand side by side. The carriage driver stayed on the steps holding my luggage.
Madam Pantalonne paused, hitching her skirt to pull out a key on a chatelaine that was tucked away within the folds. “It ain’t much,” she explained, pushing the door open, “but it will do until you find out that the palace is no place for young ladies with your gifts.”
Her warning held me back. “What do you mean?” I turned, giving her a curious stare.
“It’s just... bad things happen at the palace. It’s no place for a respectable young lady like yourself. Now, I require payment upfront. A week at a time.” Her no-nonsense attitude had me digging into my purse, giving her most of the coins in my possession, with a tip for the young errand boy as well.
She stepped back, allowing my driver to pass, and I heard the stairs creak at her departure. My driver carried my trunk into the cramped attic room with a sloped ceiling. There was only about a foot of space where I could walk side to side before my head brushed against the rafters and I needed to bend my neck. At least there was a small bed, even if it was dusty and barely large enough to fit me, and an end table.
After depositing my case by the bed, the driver shifted his weight uncomfortably and waited on the landing.
Oh right!
I gave him payment for the trip and leaned up on my tiptoes to place a chaste kiss on his lips, surprising the driver. I had never kissed a man before but knew this was the easiest way to break the spell. A static shock passed between us, and I felt the power break. When I pulled away, he stumbled into the banister. His face red as a beet.
“Whoa!” he gasped, grabbing the top of his head and then touching his lips. “That was amaz—”
I smirked and closed the door, cutting off his words.
The kiss I had bestowed on the driver’s lips was trivial and made me feel nothing. But the lightest touch of Dorian’s lips on my wrist had me burning for more, and I secretly wanted to know what it felt like to kiss him instead.
“Oh, Eden,” I grumbled to myself. “Get these thoughts out of your head. He is nothing to you. You are nothing to him. He is just toying with you.” Mother warned me that men were dangerous, and Dorian was the most dangerous of them all.
Chapter Five
Unable to sleep in a strange place, in a strange bed, with strange sounds lofting up from the floor below me, I decided to take a page out of my sister Maeve’s book and explore. I couldn’t let him know that he had flustered me. Maybe secretly I wanted to get another look at the insufferable Dorian. Plus, I didn’t think I could sleep knowing he was in the same building as me.
Then I had a mischievous t
hought and went to the mirror and quickly began to braid my hair and use pins to create the same style, a braided crown, as I saw the girls wearing below. When I was finished, I reached down and touched my chemise while firmly capturing an image in my mind of the style of dress I wanted to glamour it too. The soft silk skirt clung to my hips and hung to the floor in a deep ruby red. A short corset showed a hint of stomach and had long silk sleeves. Using one of my own lace kerchiefs, I glamoured it into a lace veil. I smiled as I tied it around my nose and lips, hiding my grin and my identity—except for the color of my hair.
Slipping out of my room, I headed downstairs and strolled among the tables. Most of the patrons had already cleared out. There were a few still gambling and playing blood stones. Some had moved into the curtained-off tables, and the drapes were drawn. A drunk patron reached out to grasp me around the waist, but I slyly stepped out of his reach. Picking up a discarded tray, I placed empty cups on them and proceeded to clear the tables one by one, making my way over to where I had last seen Dorian.
I couldn’t explain the disappointment I felt when I saw his empty table. A quick search of the room, but no one else fit his tall, lithe body type. I sighed in despair. What good was playing a game of cat and mouse when the other player wasn’t there? I was about to give up and head upstairs when I heard men’s voices coming from the closest curtained-off table.
“The king has become quite eccentric over the last few years,” an older voice spoke out. “He has been obsessed with soothsayers and seers.”
“Not eccentric, Lord Bishop. He’s downright crazy. Ever since he lost his first son and has been terrified of the curse that has been looming over his head.”
“I heard it wasn’t a curse but a prophecy.”
The tray rattled in my hands as I crept closer to peek in. Five men were sitting at a round mahogany table—one with a gold optical lens, a portly man with an accent, a younger man with a top hat, one with a pipe, and a taller man with his back to me.