In the end, all four of us end up dressed in similar style to Jester, although our pairs of clothing seem to be better preserved—black, high-waisted trousers, vests, and jackets with only a minimal amount of moth holes, paired up with a white shirt for Awan, varying shades of blue for the twins, and a gray one for me.
The fabric is a little itchy, but that might also be my own reservations against the multitude of previous hosts this attire has embraced. I wonder if any of them lived through their own event.
With a few discontent looks between the four of us, we head in the music's direction. The ballroom is on the first floor, and although the castle isn’t huge, when the double doors open in front of us, the room is spacious.
Light cascades from the arrangements of torches and candles. Tall tables in the corners, stacked with wine glasses and bottles, seem to serve as a bar.
All around us, cold ones mingle in extravagant outfits—from colorful dresses to embroidered suits, much fancier than the ones we picked out. It’s as if we’ve stumbled into a twisted, dark fairytale. The cold ones sway, dance, or talk in groups, and many of the girls throw suspicious looks at us, their eyelids and lashes coated in heavy make-up.
Once I’ve scanned the room, I whisper to Awan, “I don’t see the others.”
But before he can reply, Jester appears on the balcony, overlooking the party below. He lets go of the railing and claps three times in quick succession.
The cold ones whirl and look up. Those playing the piano and violin halt, so that silence can settle.
Jester glides down the stairs in a much fancier outfit, although the colors alone are enough to give me a seizure. The woolen, high-waisted trousers are a shade of vibrant blue, which doesn’t fit his red vest or his purple coat. His purple-red-and-blue jester’s hat rests tilted on his head.
“My darling friends,” Jester says. “This is going to be a night to remember. A step toward the end of our exile, to the great power the banshee will help us obtain.” He reaches the bottom of the staircase and whips his hand, half-turning back to look at Cami.
She descends the staircase in small steps, her hands grasping fistfuls of her golden dress. The heart-shaped corset hugs her body, leaving her shoulders bare, while the skirts are a mess of bows, tightening patches of the fabric with strings in a wild pattern.
Once she’s caught up to him, Cami lends her white-gloved hand to Jester, who graces it with a peck. My temper roars inside me at the gesture. They look like Beauty and the Beast, if the beast was a vicious vampire.
It takes me a second to realize that Vanessa and Charity have traveled down the staircase to join them. Charity’s dress is a romantic lilac color with frills that make her look like she belongs in a portrait. Vanessa could very well pass for a cold one with her wine-red dress. Her hair is pulled into a tight, glossy bun, and a red tea hat rests tilted upon her head.
To my left, Seff makes a guttural sound. Even when I cut him a look, his eyes rove over the girls. And my list of candidates to punch at this event grows by one.
The crowd of cold ones dancing disperses, leaving space for Jester, who leads Cami to the center of the room. I feel Awan’s eyes on me, a silent warning not to walk over there and rip her from Jester’s grasp. I want to tell him that as tempting as that would be, I’m not that thick.
“Join us,” Jester says with that wicked smile, “For a dance!”
His back straightens like a taut string as he places Cami’s hand on his shoulder and snakes an arm around her waist. I feel my throat bob. The music starts—a lulling, melancholic tune—and the lead couple begins to sway.
I have no idea where Cami has learned to waltz. I know it might be Jester’s perfect poise and posture that makes them both look so graceful, but I prefer giving her the credit. Even so, I have to admit I could shoot the vampire right between his eyes from a distance, but I could never twirl her like this, big fat dress and all.
Two of Jester’s most presentable buddies ask Charity and Vanessa to dance, which they accept reluctantly. More couples join in, creating a sea of swooshing dresses and twirling couples.
The four of us edge toward the corner of the room. If the others’ pinched eyebrows and wrinkled foreheads are any indication, they feel about as useless and irrelevant in this place as I do. But I push the silly thought down.
I need to find Bryar. I consider sneaking through the dancing crowd to clap Jester on his shoulder and demand to know where she is. While that would have the added benefit of distracting him from Cami, my common sense stops me.
Cami brokered this deal with him. I trust her enough to play along so we can all get out of here safely. Even if it takes a night of swimming among these sharks.
I’ve been so focused on Jester and Cami that I almost miss Awan’s nudge. I glance at him and follow his gaze up to the balcony. My sister and Jean hold hands, dressed in simpler, slightly less puffy dresses. Both are blue—Bryar’s a shade lighter than Jean’s.
They descend the staircase together and merge straight into the dancing crowd, not even glancing at us. I will need to have a word with my sister before we go back, I realize with a swooping feeling. If Cami and I are a threat to the peace, then so are Bryar and Jean.
My sister giggles, her face shining brighter than I’ve seen it in weeks. Perhaps that reality check can wait. Consequences can wait.
My eyes land on Cami and Jester again. This time, I don’t let excuses hold me back. I step through the twirling couples, pulled by Cami’s enigmatic presence.
Perhaps tonight there are no rules, no duties, no borders we always have to watch ourselves for fear of crossing.
Maybe tonight, there’s just me and you, I whisper to Cami, though only in my mind.
After the next twirl, Jester’s back comes right up in front of me. I clap a hand on his shoulder before I’ve thought better of it. He looks back, a stiff smile frozen on his lips.
Cami’s eyes are wide in surprise. Up close, her elaborate half-up hairdo makes her look like royalty.
I clear my throat, pulled in by the sight of her, not caring if I sound like a simpleton compared to either of them. “Care to dance?”
Chapter 13. Cami
A MUSCLE FEATHERS IN Jester’s jaw as the moment drags out. I think he’ll say no, but then he regards me with a question in his eyes and a bounce of his eyebrows.
“It’s all right,” I say. My throat feels as tight as my ribcage, trapped in this monstrosity of a dress.
Jester and Mason measure each other up for another drawn-out moment, before Jester bows out. Mason assumes Jester’s place, guiding my palm to his shoulder and clasping an arm around the small of my back. He doesn’t have Jester’s trained dancer’s stance, but I melt in his arms.
He leads with an unsure step, causing us to fumble a few times until he gets the hang of it, which to his credit he does within the same tune. I step lightly, letting myself relax into him.
There’s something dazzling about tonight—the gloomy lights, the colorful, extravagant clothes, the danger of a horde of blood-thirsty cold ones masquerading as elegant party-goers. And the freedom, the freedom to be ourselves under the beautiful tunes.
I get reminded of it when I spot Bryar and Jean dancing in a swirl of blue. Or every time one of the vampires around us licks their lips and bares their teeth.
Or when my stomach flutters under the fire of Mason’s brandy-colored eyes on me. In an unspoken agreement, we savor that moment, no matter how fleeting.
A new tune picks up, and the cold ones change their dance. A girl with raven-black, straight hair, tied in a glossy ponytail, almost collides into us, twirled out by her partner. Mason holds on to me, not wanting to twirl me out in turn.
“Come on,” I say with a little smile. “I’ll be fine.”
He only relaxes his arm around me, so I can twirl out myself. The cold one I dance with for the next few minutes has a stony expression on his face, although his eyes study me, the rumored banshee.
The agreement I’ve made with Jester to buy Jean’s freedom clenches my chest with unease. There’s no way I’d want to give Jester the power of compulsion over other vampires. If he’s able to maintain this horde in submission to him as it is, what kind of army could he build with compulsion over them?
I shudder at the thought just when the cold one twirls me back out. I land into Mason’s embrace with an audible sigh of relief. He pulls me so close that we risk messing up the steps completely. As soon as I feel his lips hovering by my ear, his warm breath on my skin, all concerns siphon out of me.
“Are you all right?” His heart thumps double-time, and I flush as I register it even against the backdrop of the loud music. “What did Jester mean when he said you’ll increase their powers?”
“Are you asking as a hunter or...” I can’t bring myself to say ‘my boyfriend’, because that’s not what he is. We aren’t together, as much as my knees weaken when we’re so close. “Or, as... Mason?” The words are clumsy, but I hope he can recognize what I mean.
Mason pulls out enough to let us lock eyes on each other. “Despite everything, us being on the opposite sides of this, you know I care about you.”
It’s my heart’s turn to pound. “I do now.”
He leans in, our foreheads almost touching. As if on cue, the next melody is slow, almost lethargic, and the crowd switches from choreographed waltzing to swaying freely, closer to each other.
My mind floods with the memories of Mason’s lips on mine, of my hands tangled in the short hair at the nape of his neck.
It seems I’m not alone in the recollection. Mason leans in, his forehead now brushing mine. My breathing turns labored, but I don’t close the last centimeters between our lips. Jester already mocked me for caring about the hunters. If he realizes just how much I would do for Mason, our negotiations could take a drastic turn.
Even though Jester gave me his word, I doubt he’d resist using a new bargaining chip if one were to land in his lap. How easy would it be for Jester to swoosh past us and snap Mason’s neck? He’d have no qualms about ridding the world of a hunter or, at the very least, threatening he’d do so to get me to bind him to the circle right now.
I pull away from Mason and break the spell, letting the cool air swoop between us, sobering us from the heated haze of our proximity to each other.
A fiery look flashes in Mason’s eyes. “What did you promise him?”
“It’s about the circle,” I whisper.
Reaching for that topic as a distraction from the kindling fire between us hides its own dangers. Mason is with the hunters now. He probably already knows about the extended powers a circle could lead to.
“Now that I have my full powers, I could bind a new banshee’s circle.”
Mason’s jaw sets. “I thought you said you weren’t ever going to do that.”
“I’m not.” The accusation in his tone sears right through me. I don’t know which is worse—having to lie to him about the links that already exist or having him doubt my commitment to the peace in Elmwick.
“So you lied to him?” Mason’s voice is the lowest of whispers. His arms tighten around me protectively. He’s grasped the gravity of our situation now.
“If I let Jester sense that, we’re never leaving this castle.” I swallow to overcome the dry sensation in my throat.
“What if he comes back to demand you to bind him in a circle?”
“He can’t touch me once we’re back to Elmwick,” I say. But a dark thought crosses my mind. “Which is why I can’t believe he agreed to this.”
“He must have another trick up his sleeve.”
Mason’s sober tone makes my chest tighten. “I can’t think about that now. We need to get everyone out of here safely.”
“Everyone...” Mason’s eyes dart across the room to Bryar and Jean, still dancing, as inseparable as us.
“Yes, everyone,” I insist. “Jean is my friend, and she’s obviously important to Bryar. Look at this place. We can’t leave her here.”
Mason’s expression turns unreadable. “Whether or not I agree with you on that doesn’t matter. Andreev and the hunters will never accept Jean back. Not after what happened to Collin.”
There’s regret in his words—that specific kind I’ve felt since Mom’s death. The desire to go back into the past and defend someone, even when you never could have saved them.
As a banshee, I know that lesson best of all now.
“Leave that to me,” I say, although my words hardly drip with confidence.
“It’s not only Andreev and his crew, but my parents and even Mrs. Gianni. How would you convince them all to welcome Jean back when it would cause a war?”
I take in a sharp breath, my ribs almost bruising against the tight corset. I can’t tell him what Jean can do and frankly I’m not convinced it will be enough, but that’s a battle for another day.
“I have a plan.” When that only produces a deeply suspicious look on Mason’s face, I add, “Mrs. Gianni has been a wreck without Jean. And three months have passed. She should be able to find a way to keep her around. She can’t want her daughter to remain here.”
Switching focus back to Jester and his rogue group of cold ones seems like an excellent distraction. Mason’s gaze wavers from me, following mine. Through pursed lips, he growls at the sight of our host.
“Plus, from what I’ve seen from Bryar,” I say with a lighter, playful tone, “She won’t let us leave without Jean either.”
“You’re right about that,” Mason agrees through clenched teeth, his eyes still on Jester, who seems to have been following us closely. “Do you have to stay at the center of this farce, or can I steal you away?”
His husky voice sends chills down my spine. “Let’s go.”
We twirl out of the center of the room where couples continue to sway to the romantic tune, although when we reach the double doors to the balcony, I sense the music pick up. Perhaps Jester gave the order for a slow dance after observing me with Mason, baiting us. I try not to think that disappearing together might prove Jester’s hunch as much as kissing on the dance floor would have.
The balcony is a stone platform that juts out from the castle, supported with columns down to the rocks at the foundation of the castle. Bushy shrubs grow out of gigantic pots and form a hedge along the semi-circle length of the railing. The balcony is so huge that three sets of double-doors lead to it, one pair covered by plush purple curtains.
Still, we’re alone out here, engulfed by the chilly early spring night air.
I walk to the out-most point of the balcony, desperate to put more distance between myself and that twisted party. My layered, antiquated gown bounces with each step.
With a gasp I struggle to keep silent, I sense Mason’s approach behind me. His chin hovers over my left ear. His fingers graze mine, and I give in, leaning back into the warmth of his body. His right hand slides slowly from my hip over my stomach, making me relax my back against his toned abdomen and chest.
My breathing turns shallow, especially when his lips brush against the sensitive spot under my ear. I know our safety, our privacy is an illusion, but the electric shock of his touch spreads through my body like wildfire.
And I no longer wish to hold back. I bring my chin to the left, desperate to feel his warm breath on my cheek. His lips brush against my cheekbone, dragging a blazing trail across my skin.
He pauses at the corner of my mouth. “I know things are complicated...”
My heart swells with the thrill of defiance. “We can think of that tomorrow.”
He cradles me with his right hand, leaning over my left side so he can face me. For a moment that drags out into eternity, our breaths mingle and sparks fly.
“The other day on your rooftop...” Mason whispers.
“Yes?”
“I was dying to kiss you.”
“And now?” My voice carries a desperate plea.
“Now I’m dying all over again.”
; With a thumping heart, I close the last millimeters between us. The first kiss is gentle, though tense with the longing subdued for months. I whirl around for better access, Mason’s hand hot on my lower back as he clutches me to him.
The night is our cover. The stars—our witnesses. And my emotions—a feather in the wind.
Chapter 14. Mason
I MUST BE OUT OF MY mind. No, I know I am out of my mind, but Cami has me under a spell that tightens its grasp around me with every kiss. The true madness was allowing ourselves to be ripped apart for so long.
When we finally pull apart, I brush my fingers against her cheek. It’s a stolen moment.
A heavy thump against the wooden double doors makes us spring apart. We exchange a quick look, reminded of where we are and how quickly the tables could turn on us here.
Cami sighs with the sobering realization and nods at me to follow her. The bang came from the farthest set of double doors, all the way to the right. We approach it cautiously, but before I can distinguish any further sound from behind the door, Cami’s face scrunches in disgust.
“Ugh.” Her hearing is infinitely better than mine. “It’s a couple... well... getting busy.”
“All right.” I lead her back toward the doors we came through. “Then off we go to the crowd of elegant, though moth-eaten attires and the bats that wear them.”
Cami’s laugh jingles high, and she twirls to show off her voluminous, layered-cake-looking dress. Before we’ve reached the doors, they fly open, and Awan bursts out onto the balcony.
“There you are,” he says, but the way his eyes sweep the balcony tells me he’s looking for someone else. I’m willing to bet I know who that would be.
“Needed a breath of fresh air.” Cami tucks a honey-blond curl that has fallen out of her hairdo behind her ear.
Awan’s eyes glint with mischief. “Mhm.”
In that moment, the couple making out slams harder into the double doors behind us. Instead of the main hall, the doors must lead to a more private hallway. Cami jumps from the sudden noise, which must be a thousand times louder to her ears.
Suspension (Elmwick Academy Book 2) Page 9