by Emma Hamm
Chapter 31
For the hundredth and final time, Amicia smoothed a hand down the bodice of her borrowed dress and shook her head. “It’s too fine for the likes of me, Bernard. I couldn’t. I can’t!”
He pressed his fingers against his lips, eyes wide and wings tight against himself. “No, my dear. You most certainly can.”
Amicia stared at herself in the mirror. The woman looking back at her wasn’t the daughter of a tinker.
The golden dress looked as though they had taken it right from the walls dripping wealth in the chateau. The heart-shaped bodice accentuated the lines of her collarbone, making them appear delicate and fragile. It was sleeveless, with a strip of fabric draped over her biceps.
Threads hung from the top of the bodice, glimmering with diamonds and jewels. They made her entire body shine every time she shifted and moved. Sparkling lights drew the eyes down to the point of the bodice at her belly and then the great mass of golden brocade that spread out wide around her.
Actual gold had been woven into the fabric in patterns of roses stretching up from the ground. She was a gilded garden who would walk amongst the Dread as if she hadn’t just been called a weed.
Her heart lodged in her throat. Amicia pressed a hand against her stomach and took a deep breath, or as much of a breath as the corset would let her.
The ties of the corset weren’t as bad as she had always thought they would be. Or perhaps Bernard hadn’t tied them tight. Whatever it was, the bodice tucked in her waist, giving her a bell shape far too lovely and even more strange.
“This doesn’t look like me,” she whispered.
“My dear, this looks exactly like you were supposed to look. I’ve never seen a lovelier image in my life.”
There were tears in Bernard’s eyes. Amicia tried hard not to let her own grow weepy. This was just a ball. No meaning, just a night of revelry she shouldn’t let go to her head. She was just a woman.
Besides, if they were holding a ball for the alchemists, this was a chance for her to understand what the book wanted her to know. If the alchemists would really be here, then she had to ask them questions. She had to understand why they weren’t trustworthy.
She wasn’t going to outright ask them if they were lying. No accomplished liar would ever admit to such a thing. Still, Amicia was certain she could figure out the truth given the chance.
All she had to do was see if she could corner one.
“What are we going to do with your hair?” Bernard quipped, his voice finally changing into something a little less sad and a little more aggressive. He’d fallen back into his old habits rather quickly. “It will not do as it is.”
“Can you braid it?”
He pressed a hand against his chest as if insulted. “Do I look as though women raised me?”
She arched a brow in response.
“Stop it. I don’t know how to do hair in the slightest, mademoiselle.”
Neither did she. She’d always thrown the dark locks on top of her head whenever she was working. And if she could lift her arms, she might have braided the mass, but she couldn’t in this dress.
Which left only one way to wear it that would have shocked the sensible nobles of this chateau. Likely their spirits would roll over in the graves deep below her.
Amicia sat down at the mirror, reached for the silver handled brush, and held it out to Bernard. “Brush it for me, then? Just a few strokes. I’ll leave it down.”
“Down?” If his cheeks could turn even more ashen, they did. “Is that… done?”
“No. But neither is allowing a peasant to attend a ball. Might as well remind them of who I am.”
He took the brush from her, his claws curving around the handle with utmost care. “Who we are, mon cherie.”
Amicia let her eyes drift shut and enjoyed the feeling of the brush massaging her scalp and smoothing out any knots that might remain in her hair. She didn’t want to look upon the strange visage staring back at her. She didn’t know who the woman in gold was, nor was she interested in finding out.
That wasn’t Amicia. Underneath all the heavy layers of brocade and silk lay a peasant woman who wanted to feel dirt under her nails once more.
“There,” Bernard said after a few moments. “Now it shines as it should.”
Amicia let her eyes drift back open. Her dark hair smoothed back from her face, falling down her shoulders in gentle waves of darkness gleaming in the candlelight. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.
She couldn’t remember another time in her life when she had thought that. Amicia truly believed in this moment every inch of her was breathtaking.
“Up with you.” Bernard helped her stand. He shook out her skirts with a few tsking sounds then finally grunted his approval. “You’ll do. Yes, you’ll do marvelously.”
“What am I doing?”
Again, his cheeks turned dusty before he shrugged. “Oh, just enjoying yourself, mademoiselle.”
“Hardly. I intend on getting there early, tucking myself into a corner, and watching the revelries alone. This ball isn’t for me, I’m perfectly happy to stay out of the way and observe.”
His eyes had widened even larger as she’d talked until finally she ran out of breath. What bad news could he possibly have to tell her?
He cleared his throat. “Early?”
“Yes, early. I don’t want to make a grand entrance when the alchemists will be there. They want me either dead or one of the Dread. They weren’t exactly shy about such facts the last time they were here.”
“I didn’t think you knew.” Bernard twisted his fingers together.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing, mademoiselle just… the ball has already begun.”
Her heart jumped in her chest. How had he let her be late? Now she couldn’t sneak into the ballroom, and everyone would stare. They would all know where she was, that she wasn’t one of the Dread nor one of the alchemists. It boiled down to her being terrified they would all look upon the lamb wearing the clothes of a lioness.
She hiked up her skirts and raced from the room. Bare feet slapping against the marble stone.
“Mademoiselle, your shoes!”
No one would know if she wasn’t wearing shoes, and she wasn’t about to stop. Not when the ball was already going. They would stare at her, she would faint, and her heart was already racing.
She thundered down the stairs, blasted through the halls until she reached the ballroom where two Dread sentries stood. Amicia might have ran past them too if she wasn’t so stunned.
They were wearing clothes. Brocade vests, pants with rips for their tails to slide through. Their muscles distorted the seams but… they were wearing clothing. Real, actual clothing they might have worn in their previous lives.
She skidded to a stop before them, breathing hard and hair in disarray. “Good evening, monsieurs.”
Both Dread bowed at the same time, but one looked up at the last second and winked at her. “Good evening, mademoiselle.”
“Has the ball already begun?”
“Indeed.”
Every inch of her body shook in fear and, suddenly, she knew without a doubt she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t walk into that room full of monsters who wanted to kill her and alchemists who were questionably aligned.
She was a brave woman, but she wasn’t that brave. Amicia shook her head and gulped. “Then I shall go. My sincerest apologies, monsieurs for missing such a special occasion.”
The Dread who had winked at her caught her elbow while the other opened the doors wide. “Mademoiselle Amicia!” he called out.
Beyond the doors, the Dread had created something stunning. The chandeliers were filled with hundreds of candles. Their flames caught on the dangling crystals and fractured glass, sending rainbows dancing across the room. All the Dread had packed into the room, each dressed in their finest doublets and hose. A few female Dread were even there, although some of them she hadn’t realized were even female.
No one seemed to care while they danced. Males partnered with males, moving through the steps they shouldn’t have been able to remember.
Two of the Dread were in the back of the room, one on the pianoforte and the other with a violin in his hands. It wasn’t a full band, but the music they played was hauntingly beautiful.
Those who weren’t dancing held food or drink in their clawed hands. Amicia was surprised they could hold the crystal goblets without crushing them.
Throughout the crowd were alchemists in their dripping-red robes. A few of them turned toward her when the announcement was made, then the Dread turned until everyone in the room stared at her.
She leaned harder against the Dread holding her elbow. She was the oddity here. The strange little pet who no one understood.
Inhale through your nose, she told herself, and exhale through your mouth. Over and over, she did this until she finally got her rapid heartbeats under control. And still, they were staring at her. Everyone in the room.
Amicia leaned over and whispered to the Dread beside her, “Why are they all staring?”
“Perhaps because you are so beautiful, mademoiselle.”
She felt her cheeks heat in a blush. “Somehow I doubt that’s why they’re all looking rather angry.”
“Not angry.” The Dread released her elbow with another wink. “Not in the slightest. But you are supposed to curtsey.”
“Oh.” She dropped into what was perhaps the worst curtsey ever attempted in a splendorous place like this. If anyone in the room didn’t know she was a peasant yet, they certainly did now.
When she straightened, shaking on wobbly knees, she looked out over the crowd. There, far in the back of the dance nearest to the musicians, Alexandre stood still as a statue.
Their gazes met as the violin struck a magnificent chord. Her heart clenched, hard. It didn’t matter Alexandre had been dancing with Vivienne. It didn’t matter the alchemists were all turned toward her as though they might attack at any moment.
Her eyes took in the finery of their king who, for the first time in a very long time, looked like a man. The silver doublet he wore fit him perfectly, even with his wings splitting open the back. Strange, for none of the clothing the other Dread wore fit them. Black buttons ran in matching lines down the center, accentuating the strength of his broad chest.
She’d seen that chest bare every day she’d been here, but somehow he was more with clothing covering him. The pants on his legs were too tight even for peasants. But she wouldn’t complain when the hard muscles of his legs were on display.
When he took a step toward her, she took an answering step back. Amicia locked her muscles until they were frozen, then reminded herself he was the King of these people. She couldn’t run from him even though her heart screamed to run.
She hadn’t been able to breathe when he was before her in his true form. As a monster. But this? This was too much. He was a man with hunger in his yellow eyes and a purpose in his steps as he approached her faster and faster until he fairly flew to her side.
Alexandre was breathing hard when he stopped before her and his chest expanded in a great inhalation. He held it, staring down at her with wide eyes.
“Words cannot express,” he finally said, his voice little more than a rumble. “You rival the sun itself, petite souris.”
“Surely not.” Her voice wavered.
“You need not believe it for it to be true.” He reached forward as if to brush a strand of her hair behind her ear, only to hesitate and let the hand fall. “Would you dance with me?”
“I don’t know how.”
“You’ll stand on my feet then. I used to dance as such with the children.”
Amicia arched a brow and couldn’t stop herself from teasing him. “Am I like a child to you then?”
The heat behind his yellow eyes flared even brighter. “Oh, no. Tu es la plus belle fille que j’ai jamais vue.” You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.
Her breath caught in her throat and, this time, she reached for his hand when he offered it. How could she not when he spoke such pretty words? Words that filled her soul and spoke to the peasant girl in her who was terrified she would never be enough for these people.
Amicia feared she would always be the weed. Always the one with dirt smudged on her cheek and the outcast who dirtied the pristine linens.
But he made her feel like more than that. He watched her movements with appreciation, grinning down at her with a feral smile when the Dread parted like a wave before them. He didn’t even look at Vivienne who glared at them from the corner with the alchemists whose undulating cloaks appeared to move ever faster.
Not once did his eyes stray from her. To him, they were the only couple in the entire room.
He stretched out her arm, placing it high on his shoulder. “Rest the other on my arm.”
She gently placed her hand on his bulging bicep. Her heart stuttered at the contact, then stopped altogether when he placed a hand on her waist and tugged her closer. They were nearly pressed against each other, shoulder to hip.
How was she supposed to think when his heat seeped through the thick brocade of her dress? She could feel him as though they wore nothing at all.
Breathless, she murmured, “Everyone is staring.”
“Let them.”
“It doesn’t unnerve you?”
His hand tightened at her waist, and then they were spinning. The violin and pianoforte grew to a crescendo they danced upon. Every step was coordinated with the music in a way she hadn’t known possible. Their bodies became the song.
Alexandre leaned down and pressed his lips against her ear. “Nothing unnerves me when you are in my arms, mademoiselle. No one but you exists in this moment. Enjoy it.”
Amicia tilted her head back and let out a bark of laughter bursting forth from her belly. “Does that work with the ladies, King of the Dread? What a horrible way to convince a woman to pay attention to only you!”
“It usually works,” he replied with a frown. “Or, at least, it used to.”
“I’m not a noblewoman. Pretty words won’t convince me of anything other than your insincerity.”
He leaned away from her, spinning her slower so he could stare into her eyes. “Then what would convince you?”
“Of what?”
“That I find you beautiful. That everyone should stare at us because you are the most beautiful woman in the room.”
“There are hardly many women here.”
“Amicia,” he chided. “You know it’s more than that.”
She didn’t know that for certain. Perhaps the female Dread had been spectacular specimens in their day. Everyone here might have looked down their noses at her had they not been turned into monsters.
“Amicia,” Alexandre said. He released her hand to touch her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “You belong here just as much as they do. You are not some peasant woman or lesser than they are. That is not the kingdom I have any intent on ruling.”
“Then what kind of kingdom do you want to rule?” she asked. The words slipped out before she realized how rude they were, and yet… she wanted to know. The answer to that question was more important than any puzzle she’d ever solved.
He frowned. The gears were turning in his head, she could see that like reading a book, but she didn’t know what he had planned until they were dancing away from the others. Farther and farther away until they were right next to a door she hadn’t noticed before.
“Shall we, mademoiselle?” He stopped their dancing, bowed low, and stretched an arm toward the door.
“Where are we going?”
“A place I just remembered existed.” He straightened and then pushed the door open. “Come with me, Amicia. There’s something I would like to show you.”
Beyond the door was a set of stairs. It seemed for a breathless moment as though the entire thing had appeared out of thin air merely because he remembered it.
She stepped past him and began ascending. Her skirts were almost too big to fit in the winding stairwell, but she managed well enough. The marble stone chilled her bare feet, in a way that felt good. That felt alive.
The longer it took for them to reach their destination, the more she wondered where they were going. Her heart raced. Her palms grew slick with sweat. And yet, Alexandre said nothing as they continued their journey high into the peak of the chateau until the stairwell opened up into the most beautiful room she’d seen yet.
The floor, walls, and ceiling were all plated with gold. A single candle illuminated the room from a small stand in the center with mirrors that bounced the light around and around until it appeared they were standing in the center of the sun. Tiny punctures in the gold allowed more light to filter through from all angles, even the floor, pinpricks of starlight unlike anything she’d ever seen before.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “What is it?”
“I don’t remember. But I know I spent a lot of time here.” He strode past her into the room, touching fingers to the holes and blocking out the light. “I can’t remember why, but I know most of my days were in this room. Researching, learning, understanding your people.”
Not for the first time, she wondered where the Dread had come from. Where he had come from. Surely, the Celestials wouldn’t have allowed something like him to exist. Had he killed them? Was he the reason the Celestial in the tomb below their feet lay dormant?
Or perhaps was there something more?
“Alexandre…” She didn’t know what to say. Was there anything she could say? He remembered fragments of who he was long ago, but that didn’t answer any of the questions he had. His past had been stolen, and she was no closer to discovering who he was.
“You asked me what kind of king I want to be.” He paused in the center of the room with his back to her. Music filtered up through the holes in the floor like the candlelight below them. “If you had asked me the same question mere weeks ago, I would have said the king I already am. But now, I’m not so certain.”
She opened her mouth to reply but found no words. He needed to speak, and she shouldn’t alter the way the words would come out. So instead, Amicia remained silent.