Phillip hopped on his perch, chirping with approval.
“Thank you,” I told him. “You always know just what to say.”
Headmistress Lockwood had kept her word. No one outside of herself and Miss Morton knew about the attack. After I’d written to her, Mrs. Winter promised that she would discretely look into any possible descendants of Grimstelles at the school. But every time I spoke to her, she focused on party details. If I asked about the Revenant situation directly, she changed the subject. I assumed that meant she hadn’t found anything… or that what she found was so upsetting she didn’t want to tell me. Once she no longer had the party as a distraction, I planned to interrogate her… as much as she would allow me.
After Tom’s attack, traversing the social snake pit of Mrs. Winter’s circle seemed like child’s play. I could not plead a sprained ankle to get out of dancing at Mrs. Winter’s holiday ball. She’d made it very clear I would be leading the opening dance, “or else.” I didn’t want to know what “else” could be.
I carefully moved my heavy purple skirts through my bedroom door and, pulling Wit from my reticule, drew a strong ward symbol over the door, while whispering a spell. Both Phillip and the Mother Book were inside, and after Tom’s attack, I wasn’t willing to risk either, with so many people in the house.
The party had started twenty minutes before, but I wasn’t due to make my descent down the stairs for another three minutes. Mrs. Winter said it was very important to arrive at just the right moment. I stepped out into the hall and listened to the muted music, floating up from the hall, echoing from the ballroom. I could hear murmurs and laughter from the guests in the foyer.
I heard Owen’s footsteps behind me. “Cassie, could you help me with this cufflink?”
Owen strode down the hall in full evening dress, his dark red hair topped with ravenfeather mask. While the ladies would go all out, accessorizing their already elaborate ballgowns into proper costumes, most of the boys would be dressed like Owen, proper black tie suits and masks reflecting their house sigils. I wondered why the boys bothered coming to the ball at all, when the ladies were demonstrating solely for each other.
Owen skidded to a stop on the carpet when he looked up. “Odin’s ravens!”
“Is it all right?” I asked, peering down at my skirts. “Is there something out of place?”
A lopsided grin tilted Owen’s mouth. “Not a thing. I just can’t believe this is the same knobby-kneed girl I used to know. You look rather acceptable, really.”
“Try not to sound so surprised,” I told him as I secured the silver raven cufflink through his sleeve.
We peered over the bannister, at the handsome couples in their elaborate costumes. I recognized several girls I knew from school, but not Alicia or Ivy. They’d promised they’d attend. They were still worried about me. Even though I’d kept quiet about Tom’s attack, they’d both noticed my lackluster energy, the stubborn circles under my eyes. I’d promised, that now that we were through the semester’s exams, I would recover at Raven’s Rest before the spring term.
Alicia claimed I’d tried to usurp her place as the pale, wan member of our little trio. Enjoying myself at this party was the first step in their carefully constructed winter break relaxation plan, which also included sleeping over at each other’s houses and long, indulgent afternoons spent eating bonbons and reading age-inappropriate novels.
The Winters always took on extra Snipes to help serve on the night of the Winter ball, to make up for the massive work load. I didn’t see any members of my own family. Mum would be busy organizing the dishes in the kitchen. My father was all thumbs when it came to fancy occasions, and was kept far away. Apparently, Mrs. Winter knew better than to put Mary in the same room as Owen in a fancy dress suit.
“Ready for this?” Owen asked.
“No,” I told him, but he dragged me toward the staircase anyway. Nearly every face in the crowd tilted towards us as we carefully walked down the stairs.
“Head up, shoulders back,” Owen whispered gently. “Smile like I’ve said something very stupid. That should be easy enough to imagine.”
I snickered.
“I said smile, not laugh,” he muttered, which only made me giggle more.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you, the Translator, my dear niece, Cassandra Reed,” Mr. Winter announced in a formal tone as we reached the bottom of the stairs. The adults in the room burst into polite applause. I smiled and nodded my head in what I hoped was an obliging, but humble, fashion as Owen helped me descend the last few steps. It was surreal, having so many adults applaud us as we stood before them in our finery. I supposed this was what Guardians raised their children to be, small adults before their time. That was something I had in common with Owen. We were dressed as grown-ups, were expected to fulfill adult social obligations, and yet had few adult rights and couldn’t expect any for years.
I curtsied, and as I bobbed up, I caught sight of Mary through the swinging kitchen door. She saw me standing there arm and arm with Owen, wearing a beautiful dress, being applauded. If looks could kill, I would be stuffed and mounted in one of Mr. Winter’s display cases.
Mrs. Winter, resplendent in a gown configured to look like the white queen chess piece, swept toward me, both arms outstretched. She gave both of my cheeks air-kisses.
“Beautifully done, my dear,” Mrs. Winter told me, adding quietly, “Though, snickering while mid-stair was a bold choice.”
“Owen started it,” I told her.
Owen gasped. “Slander and lies, Mother.”
“Children, do behave,” she chastised us as we followed her into the ballroom.
“No promises, Mother.”
I swallowed an enormous lump in my throat as Owen led me toward the ballroom. It was the most beautiful room in the house, with its mirrored walls, vaulted white ceiling and shiny maple floor, lit with hundreds of wax tapers floating in chandelier formations. It was also completely terrifying, because in a few minutes, I would be expected to dance at the center of that room, in front of everybody. More than ever, I wished I was back in the kitchen, with my family, putting food on trays, where no one could see me, no one could judge me. I was on the verge of living out a Snipe fairy tale… if the tale ended with the Snipe-born princess wishing she could turn back into a scullery maid.
Maybe if I wished hard enough, the Mother Book could make me invisible?
This was not helpful. I needed to focus on the task at hand, waltzing without hurting bystanders. I waved nervously to the girls from school, who seemed to be led around by their own bossy adults. Behind us, the orchestra’s master tapped the time against his stand. Owen cleared his throat and smirked just the tiniest bit as he slipped his hand to my waist. Over Owen’s shoulder, I could see Mr. and Mrs. Winter, in a very proper dance frame. As the host family, the four of us were expected to dance the opening set. Under normal circumstances, Owen and I wouldn’t perform in such a capacity, but an exception was being made so I could be formally introduced to the public as the Translator.
Everyone was staring at us. I couldn’t hide. And I was going to have to dance. How was I going to remember the steps? What if I stomped on Owen’s feet? Or tripped over my own feet?
“Breathe,” Owen told me, his gloved hands folding over mine. “Again, if you pass out, I can’t haul you off the floor when you’re wrapped up in that much fabric.”
“You are an awful person,” I sighed.
“But a talented dancer, graceful enough to compensate for even the clumsiest of partners.”
“Keep going. I’m going to have Phillip attack your eyebrows while you sleep,” I murmured through my smile as the first notes of the waltz rang out.
“Really?” he chuckled. “What else?”
“I’m going to ask the Mother Book how to curse you so you only speak in limerick form.”
“And then?”
“I’ll charm all of the mirrors in the world to cloud over when you look into them.”
<
br /> “That’s harsh,” he agreed. “Also, you are waltzing, I might add.”
I looked down. My purple-slippered feet were moving in perfect accord with Owen’s as we moved in a neat box-step. I was dancing in front of people. A lot of people. I needed to stop thinking of how many people there were, before I lost my step.
Over Owen’s shoulder, I spotted Ivy and Alicia. They bounced on their toes, waving and grinning in a very unladylike manner that made me love them more than a little bit. Alicia’s mother had dressed her as a pixie, in a light green dress with leaf details and a shiny green mask. Ivy’s mother had stuck with the Cowell house colors of purple and tan, and she was a… pile of leaves? The shapeless brown and purple gown did nothing for her and the mask sewn with dull fall leaves. Ivy was still lovely, because she was Ivy, but honestly, I was going to have ask Mrs. Winter to introduce Ivy’s mother to Madame DuPont.
I saw Owen’s eyes go wide, when he turned and caught sight of Ivy. “Be nice,” I told him. “Ivy’s a very sweet girl, and she gets enough abuse at school. Don’t give the other Castwell girls something to tease her about.”
“I am always nice,” he protested.
“Do you forget, sometimes, that I’m the same girl who’s known you since we were both small children?”
He smiled down at me. “No. I never do.”
Thanks to Owen’s needling, I got through the dance without injuring anyone. We bowed politely, making room for the guests as they invaded the dance-floor. Despite several invitations, I declined hands offered by several of Owen’s Palmer classmates. Or... Owen declined for me as he ushered me toward my friends. We bowed politely, making room for the guest as they invaded the dance-floor. Despite several invitations, I declined hands offered by several of Owen’s Palmer classmates. Or… Owen declined for me as he ushered me toward my friends.
“Much too exhausted by her efforts, you understand,” he told them breezily. “Move along to some other unsuspecting fellow’s cousin, thank you.”
Alicia and Ivy pushed through the crush, laughing as we threw our arms around each other.
“How are you?” Ivy asked, eyeing me closely. “I hope you got some rest today before they strapped you into that gorgeous gown.”
“I am so glad you’re here,” I told my friends, hugging them both carefully so I didn’t rumple their costumes. Around us, the party ground to life like a wind-up toy. Couples moved in carefully orchestrated patterns. Warm, savory foods were circulated by servants who weren’t seen or heard. Violin music and floral perfume and firelight overwhelmed my senses, and I was grateful for this little island of quiet, three people who – even if they didn’t know everything about me – wouldn’t judge me for not arching my pinky correctly when I drank the oversweet cider punch.
“Yes, clearly, no one in the room likes you,” Alicia said, solemnly, in stark contrast to her bright mask. “You have no support. You are making a terrible impression.”
“No one likes a sarcastic sprite,” I told her.
“I’ve found that’s not the case,” Alicia said, shaking her glittering head.
Owen cleared his throat in an almost delicate gesture. “I am sorry, ladies, you remember my cousin, Owen Winter. He’s interested in horrid cats that swipe at unsuspecting ladies’ ankles from under furniture.” I giggled as he nudged me in my ribs with his elbow. “Owen, this is Ivy Cowell, who can construct or de-construct iron-clad wards at her whim. She is exceedingly forgiving, even when I accidentally fling arrows at her on the belomancy range. And this is Alicia McCray, who has managed to pack the sarcasm of three Guardian matrons in to one tiny body. In the last two minutes of observing you, she has recorded all of your weaknesses and will use them against you.”
“It’s true,” Alicia said. “You should stop biting your nails; when you are nervous, it’s a terrible habit.”
Owen’s eyes went wide, and he tucked his left hand into his jacket pocket, before he burst out laughing. “Well, now I know why my cousin is so eager to return to school.” He bent over each of the girls’ hands while they offered him a curtsy. “I see she’s found kindred spirits.”
“Very nice to meet you,” Ivy said, gesturing toward his mask. “That’s a lovely representation of the Winter raven. Very… feathery.”
“Thank you, and your costume is very… leafy. What is it, exactly?” he asked Ivy.
“I am the spirit of autumn,” Ivy sighed, giving me the brief squeeze and waving an exasperated hand at her unflattering gown. “Sometimes, I really hate my mother’s seamstress.”
Alicia asked her, “Have you set accidental fires when you’ve visited the dress shop?”
“You know, I think I liked you better when you were silent,” Ivy told her, pursing her lips.
Alicia giggled, and bounced on her toes. Owen grinned at their banter. It had to be a refreshing change, I supposed, from the prim and perfect manner in which girls normally behaved in front of him.
“It’s not that bad,” Owen tried to tell her. “The foliage is, er, really quite lovely.”
“Thank you for trying,” she told him, blowing a stray curl out of her face.
But even with the newfound spirit that had helped Ivy sass us, she seemed to wilt as Callista approached, dressed in a scandalously cut Queen of Hearts costume, and pointed openly as Ivy’s costume, whilst snickering to Rosemarie. Callista threw a meaningful wink towards Owen. Simultaneously, Alicia and I circled our arms through Ivy’s, but Owen surprised me by doing more to defend her than we ever could.
“Would you care for a dance, Miss Cowell?” he asked suddenly, turning and offering her his hand.
Ivy’s mouth fell open, but she recovered quickly. “Ye-yes, thank you. That would be lovely.”
Owen smiled and led her out to the dance-floor and led her in a gentle quadrille. Ivy glowed as she moved, showing more grace than she ever had in our dance classes at school. Across the room, I saw her grandmother, Mrs. Dalrymple, watching Ivy with perplexed expression. She nodded to me. I curtsied.
“That was very kind of your cousin,” Alicia noted.
“Yes, well, Owen, doesn’t do anything with just one motive.” I nodded to Callista, who was giving Ivy and Owen a sour look from the sidelines. “Asking Ivy to dance means that he doesn’t have to dodge Callista. Or any of the more dangerous females present. And it earns his mother some cache with Mrs. Dalrymple, who is watching from the settee, very pleased. Overall, it’s a coup for Ivy and Owen. Very clever of him.”
“Underhanded sneakiness? In a Winter? Surely, you jest,” she gasped.
I laughed, but it was covered by the tinkling silver of Alicia’s giggles.
“Well, isn’t that the loveliest sound in the world?”
I turned to find a tall boy I recognized as Gavin, even wearing a golden mask with plaster flames threading into his dark hair. He grinned at his sister. “The elusive Miss Reed.”
I couldn’t help but grimace, the tiniest bit, and I forgot to curtsy. It was not my best moment, re-introduction-wise. He reached for my hand anyway and bowed over it without actually kissing my skin, which I appreciated. “The effusive Mr. McCray.”
“I believe I’ve been promised a dance,” he said.
“Did I promise?” I asked, even as I took his offered hand. I couldn’t help but notice that the dragonfly on my palms seemed to flutter its wings, sending a thrill of warmth that ran up my arm to my heart. Gavin stopped, staring down at our joined hands with an expression of surprise. The dance was a Schottische, a slower polka-type dance meant to help encourage harmony between warring families. I couldn’t help but appreciate the hint Mrs. Winter was giving to her guests, “behave in my home or be thrown out of it.” Unlike the waltz, which had put me in constant eye contact with Owen, the Schottische was danced side-by-side, with Gavin’s arm around my waist. And while I’d been reasonably comfortable, standing so close to my “cousin,” dancing with Gavin had heat prickling under my arms. I worried that he would be able to feel how sweaty my pa
lms were against his.
“You seem tense,” he noted.
“Well, I was warned you were planning to interrogate me about breakfast condiments,” I told him.
“Alicia informs me that letter was rude, that a lady likes to keep a little mystery about her. And I should be more subtle in my pursuit of information about you.”
“Someone should tell Alicia it’s rude to read letters I’ve hidden in my reticule,” I told him.
He laughed, a magical sound that send shivers down my arms. “She’s attended school for years and never came home with a story about friends or pranks or anything you would hope your sister would experience. Now, however, it’s Cassandra this, and Ivy that. She has a spark now that I’ve never seen in her, and with her health… Alicia’s happiness is a priority for me.”
I blushed and ducked my head. I couldn’t help it. It just happened
“She’s done more for me than I’ve ever done for her,” I said. “And I would like to thank you for the journal you lent me. It’s been a comfort, knowing what another Translator thought of the book.”
“Anything you ever need, Miss Reed, I would be happy to provide.”
“Calling me ‘Cassandra,’ would be a nice start.”
He grinned at me. On the other end of the ballroom, I could see Callista dancing with a boy from House Drummond. Even through her mask, I could see her scowling at me. Though I wasn’t sure if she was unhappy that Gavin was dancing with someone else or dancing with me, specifically.
“Alicia said you’ve improved her botany grade by leaps and bounds.”
“I’ve found a carefully balanced system of bribery and shaming works best while tutoring her,” I said. I tried to remember Gavin’s interests we’d discussed in his letters, but my mind was blank. All I could remember was “extra moisturizing marmalades,” and I was sure that wasn’t it. Why was this so difficult? I talked to Owen all of the time. I sassed Owen. Why did I feel like my tongue was tied in knots? How did Mary do this? No, wait, that was the wrong instinct. I didn’t like the way Mary talked to boys. A weird silence hung between us as we moved across the floor with the other dancers.
Changeling (Sorcery and Society Book 1) Page 20