by RaeLynn Fry
“Pretty much.” He looks in my direction. His eyes have softened somewhat but still hold an irritated edge.
I sigh. I don’t want Ethan mad at me for the party. That’d make our mission more than a little awkward. “What’s your costume?” I say, in an attempt to diffuse the tension.
His words race together, “I’mgoingasaraven.”
“What?”
We stop in front of a shop door with scrolling letters painted on the glass, Georgia’s Delicacies, and he lets his head fall back. “I’m going as a raven.”
“A bird?” I stifle a laugh.
Ethan throws his shoulders back. “For your information, Karis, ravens are highly intelligent creatures and are thought of as gods in some ancient cultures.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.”
A bell tinkles as Ethan holds the door to the shop open, and I cross the threshold, letting little puffs of laughter escape through my lips.
“I can hear you,” he mutters. “I’m going to find a corner to sit in.” Ethan turns and disappears inside the small shop.
I glance around at regal looking mannequins, sans heads, displaying costumes I wouldn’t have been able to dream of. One wears an orange and black bodice with a full skirt made from what look like giant monarch butterfly wings. Another is dressed in what I can only describe as ice. Shoes line the right wall in unbelievable colors and styles had I not seen them for myself.
A middle-aged woman steps out from among the mannequin’s. Her mousy brown hair pulled back in a tight bun, she holds her head as if she’s trying to keep it above water. Her neck is supported by strands of jeweled necklaces stacked and layered on top of one another around her thin neck.
“Looking for a costume for tonight’s masquerade?” Her eyes are bright with excitement.
“I’m looking for—”
“Most guests ordered their costumes months ago,” she says, ignoring me.
I clamp my mouth closed. Was she actually scolding me? “Well yes, naturally, but this was a last minute decision—”
“A last minute decision to attend the festival? That’s unheard of!” She looks slightly aghast, but I can tell by the excitement humming from her body that she really couldn’t care less.
“Uncommon is probably more likely.” I take a breath. “I’m looking for—”
“Beautiful costumes made by Georgia—” she says the “gs” like a “js” and gives me an irritated purse of her lips when recognition doesn’t spark in my eyes, “—yours truly—take months to design and plan and fit to perfection. One can’t simply walk into my boutique and expect to find an exquisite gown for the festival just like that.” She snaps her fingers, and I flinch.
Ethan’s laughter wafts up through the clothes from somewhere within the bowels of the shop.
“Who’s that?” She stands on her toes and looks over the racks of clothing and around the dressed mannequins.
“Someone with a poor taste in humor.” I realize flattery will be what’s needed to pry a costume from her fingers. “Look, I need a costume; it doesn’t have to be perfect, but my heart is really set on one of your masterpieces. Are you sure you don’t have anything for me?”
She eyes my bust, waist, and hips with a look I recognize. She’s mentally taking my measurements and comparing them to her inventory. Her eyes light up again, and she gives an excited gasp. “I had a young woman, Pearl, who changed her mind and had me make her another costume. But I must say, the one she left behind is by far my favorite. With a few alterations, it just might work. Follow me.”
I follow Georgia through the racks and displays to the rear of the store. She pulls back a curtain. The rejected dress hangs against the wall, and my breath is lost. It’s the most magical thing I’ve seen, and I know instantly it’s the one.
Georgia recognizes the sparkle in my eyes and matches it with one of her own. “Let’s try it on and make sure it fits. I think I’ll have to take the bust in, but only slightly.” She draws the curtain closed behind us.
Eighteen
It takes the better part of the day for Georgia to alter the dress enough for it to fit me the way it should. She was being modest when she said she'd only have to take it in a few inches. Whoever this Pearl is has a bust more than double the size of my narrow ribcage. My feet are throbbing by the time she tells me I can step down from the riser, promising that I'll be the talk of the festival. She tucks the dress in a large, white box, placing a thin piece of gold paper between the expensive fabric and matching mask and shoes before carefully settling the lid on. She ties it shut with a matching wide gold ribbon and carries it to the front of the store.
“That will be one hundred and seventy-five credits,” she says with a cheery smile.
I manage a dry swallow. I hadn't even thought about the possibility of it costing so much. Georgia’s smile stumbles at my hesitation. “You were aware you’d have to pay for this gown?” Her fingers curl protectively around the edge of the box.
“Of course,” I say quickly. “My friend's buying it for me. I'll go get him.” I hurry to the edge of the store Ethan disappeared to when we first arrived. I turn a corner of men's silk shirts and find him slumped into an overstuffed chair, seemingly asleep. I stoop over and shake his arm. “Ethan!” I hiss. He starts awake.
“Ah,” he says with a yawn and a stretch. “Finished, are you?”
“Uh, yeah.” I wring my hands together. “But there's a bit of a problem,” I whisper.
“Dear,” Georgia sings out from the front of the store, “I hope you haven't forgotten about me.”
“No...uh...just looking around to...make sure I haven't missed anything that I just must have,” I say in a rush.
“What's the problem?” If Ethan wasn't fully awake before, he is now. There's a slight level of alarm in his eyes.
“She wants a hundred seventy-five credits for the costume.”
“For the entire costume?”
I nod.
“Mask and shoes included?”
I nod again.
“What about gloves?”
“Yes, those too. Ethan, what are we going to do?” There’s no way his Mark can cover that big of a spread, no matter how good his Artist was.
“That's the best news I've heard all day!” He claps his hands together and launches himself from the chair.
“W-what?”
“Getting a dress from Georgia for anything less two hundred’s a steal. Hurry up, before she changes her mind.” He pushes me to the front of the store, grabbing something from one of the shelves as we go.
“Your Mark has that many credits?” I ask in awe.
“As long as it says I do, it doesn't matter if they’re mine or not. Now let’s go.”
We reach the front counter, and Georgia lets out a startled squeak. “I assume you're buying that as well?”
I look over my shoulder, confused. Ethan's wearing the ugliest mask I've ever seen. It's some sort of hairy animal with somewhat human features, and it covers his entire face, muffling his voice.
“You two are going to make quite the pair tonight.” Georgia holds out her hand for the added item.
Ethan shakes his head. “I prefer to wear it,” he says in a funny accent.
“Why are you talking like that? You sound ridiculous,” I say with a frown.
“Now that's not nice, is it?” he says in the same accent. “I don't criticize the strange things you do.”
“I beg to differ,” I say.
“Wear it if you'd like, it's an additional fifteen credits,” Georgia says, handing Ethan over my boxed costume.
He stretches his wrist over the counter, and Georgia scans it for payment. “Thank you very much Mr....” she looks down at the display of her scanner, and her smile stumbles, her mouth dropping open and her eyes wide. She looks back up at us, but I don’t have enough time to register the look because Ethan has already tucked the box under his arm, taken a hold of my elbow, and is hurrying us through the store.
�
�No, no, thank you,” Ethan says loudly, cutting her off.
“Ethan,” I hiss. “What are you doing?”
“Had I known—” Georgia shouts, scuttling around the counter to catch up with us.
“But you didn't, and that's the way I like it,” Ethan calls back, pushing me through the door and closing it firmly behind us, right in Georgia's face. He gives a quick bow to an akimbo-ed Georgia and hurries us down the street and out of the shopkeeper's sight.
“What was that all about?” I say.
Ethan pulls the mask off his face, leaving his hair tousled and matted, and wipes his arm across his forehead.
“Nothing,” he answers a little too quickly.
“Don't give me that; I was there. I notice everything.” I say the last part in mimic of him.
“I don't know what you're talking about.” He turns us down a street to avoid a cluster of citizens heading to the Market. “She was getting suspicious. I could smell it on her. Besides, you never know who a Black Market tattoo will bring up.”
“You're so secretive all the time,” I say.
“Again, I don't know what you're talking about.”
I hmpf and kick at the street. “You're not going to tell me anything, are you?”
“Your learning curve is a bit obtuse,” he says with a smile. “So, what's your costume?”
“I’m not telling.”
He raises an eyebrow in amused interest. “Ooh, a surprise. I like surprises.” He's almost purring.
“Not that kind of surprise,” I say quickly, my heart skipping a beat.
“How'd you get it so cheap?”
“Some other girl had it made and changed her mind last minute. Georgia said I could have it at a discount since it wasn't 'made for me'.”
“Who's dress was it?” Ethan asks with distracted interest. We’re back on the main road.
“Some girl named Pearl, I think.”
Ethan barks out a laugh.
“What? What's so funny?”
“That was Pearl's dress? Oh, tonight is going to be more fun than I originally anticipated.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” I ask defensively. “Who's Pearl?”
“It'll be better entertainment for you to experience the magic first hand.” He's still laughing when he drops me off at Ella's door.
“Aren't you coming in?” I ask a little tersely.
“No, you should rest. Besides, I still have to go and get ready.”
“You're not going to have enough time to go to home, get ready, and come back. Besides, don't you think you'd stand out a little bit dressed as raven in the Outer City?” I’ve been starting to get a little suspicious of who Ethan really is and where he really goes when we’re not together. But one thing I’m quite certain of, he’s not going back to Neech. I don’t know how I know, but I know it’s the truth.
“Don't worry about me; I'll blend in just fine.”
“Whatever, just make sure you're here on time. I don't want to have to show up alone.” Suspicions or not, I have other more important things on my mind right now.
He gives me a regal bow. “As you wish, your majesty. I’ll see you at eight-thirty.”
“Wait,” I say, my hand on the door. “I thought the announcement said everyone was supposed to be there at eight, sharp.”
Ethan smiles his untouchable smile. “I have to show up; I draw the line at being on time.”
७
I can’t help but notice my shocking reflection in the mirror as I place the wrapped box on the table in my room. There are deep shadows under my eyes and under my cheekbones. I run my fingers over the sharp bone that lies just beneath the thin skin that’s become my face. I let them fall to my collarbone. It protrudes from the neckline of my shirt, and there’s a dip just above it by my neck. I wonder if these things are as noticeable to Ella and Ethan as they are to me.
I close my eyes and let the room spin around me for a minute before I crawl into bed for a quick nap before the party. I need to catch up on what I’ve missed the past couple of days. My body is still so overwhelmingly tired.
A knock at the door wakes me after what feels like just minutes of sleep. Ella gives me a worried look as she enters, but I wave it away with a smile. “I feel fine,” I say, reading her expression for what it is, suspicion of the truth. “Just a little tired is all.”
“It’s almost time for the party.” She looks at me a bit longer, her eyes lagging on the shadowed bones before giving a strained smile. “Is this your costume?” Ella asks.
I nod as I slip out of bed. She admires it and says, “Good choice, you’ll look breathtaking.”
“I just want to pass as one of them as easily as Ethan does.”
Ella nods. “I drew a bath; go wash up while I get everything ready.”
“I appreciate all you're doing for me, Ella. I really do.”
She puts her hand on my shoulder. “I know. Now go get washed up."
७
Ella puts my hair in loose curls, half up, half cascading down my bare back. She uses extra blush to try to cover my pallor and pats concealer under my eyes to hide the purple half moons. She’s done an amazing job with the makeup; it’s as if an artist has used my eyes as their canvas. They’re colored in yellows, greens, blues, and gold with accents of black. It matches my costume perfectly. My face doesn’t look as thin as before.
“Let’s slip on your dress.” she says and places it at my feet. I step into the ring of fabric and she pulls it up my torso. The dress is heavy and stiff. I look at myself in the mirror. The shade of midnight blue blends perfectly with my hair and eyes. My pale skin looks smooth and milky against the darkness, not the unhealthy ash it’s turned into. Ella was right, the loose hair and dramatic make-up is perfect. I'm amazed at my transformation. Journey would be proud.
Somewhere downstairs, a clock chimes out the time. “Eight-thirty,” Ella says. “Ethan should be here any minute.” She stands back and admires her work. “You look beautiful.” I can’t help the bigger than life smile that lights my face. It hurts my cheeks. She guides me to the full-length mirror. “I’ll go get your mask.”
I run my fingers down the front of the bright blue dress and can’t imagine how it failed to impress Pearl with its strapless, heart-shaped neckline and gathered and ruffled material. Glimpsing at it, one would think the dress was made of tiny, blue feathers. Around the waist is a wide, beaded gold band. Attached at the back, like a bustle, is a display of peacock tail feathers that cascade and trail along the ground.
Ella comes up behind me with my mask—black with gold and silver glitter—that covers the top half of my face. There’s a display of shortened tail feathers on the right side, brushing up against my hair. She ties the silk ribbon securely behind my curls.
“You look exquisite. Truly,” Ella says. I meet her eyes in the mirror’s reflection. They’re pleading. “Be safe tonight, Karis. If you’re found out—if anyone suspects anything—Akin’s a dangerous man. If you feel faint, or sick—”
I reach back and squeeze her hand. “I’ll come back straight away, I promise.”
“Ethan will take good care of you.” She smiles, but it doesn’t meet her eyes. She shakes her head and changes topics. “The key to a masquerade ball is anonymity. Costume choices are kept in complete secrecy; no one knows what another is coming dressed as.
“It’s a game to guess who each guest is. It can get quite obnoxious, actually, but no matter what someone says, do not take off your mask or admit who you are. And don’t let Ethan’s mask be taken off, either. If they know it’s him, they’ll do anything to find out who he’s with. And if you’re found out, you won’t be able to save your brother.” I nod as she rearranges a few feathers and fluffs the skirt of my gown. “D’mitri is a snake, but he’s the only one who can get me what I need. His cost may not seem like much, but he always has a way of figuring out something expensive for each client, and sometimes the price is …creative.” She levels her gaze at me. “
This is important, Karis; whatever he asks, it has to be paid.”
“Of course,” I say with a half laugh. How absurd that we’ve come this far only to be stopped by credits, which obviously aren’t an issue for Ethan.
“Your answer may not come so easy when it’s named.”
“I’ll make sure it gets paid.” I take her hands in mine, trying to reassure her with my smile.
“Let’s get you downstairs, Ethan can be impatient at times.” She smiles at me and gathers the train of my dress into her arms so the feathers don’t drag. I descend the stairs, putting Papa’s breathing techniques into practice.
“Why do women always take forever to get ready?” Ethan says from below, but as soon as he sees us, he’s at a loss for words.
“Hello,” I say.
His eyes are wide, and he freezes as he stares at me.
“Close your mouth, Ethan,” Ella says. “Gentlemen don’t gape.”
My cheeks stretch more with an even bigger smile. “You like my costume?” I turn in a tight circle, careful not to step on my dress.
“I-I had no idea,” he says.
“No idea about what?” I say, a little worried, suddenly self-conscious.
“That you could—you are—so beautiful.” I blush. He takes my hand in his and kisses the back of it, bowing deep.
I don’t know if I should be offended at his surprise or flattered. I decide to take it as a compliment. “You look very handsome yourself.”
He unfolds from his bow and stares at me with an intoxicated grin. His blond hair is slicked back from his face, making it darker than normal. I take in the sleek lines of his costume. His black jacket is long, going down to his knees, with white piping along the lapels and down the front. The collar stands up, and underneath his jacket is a ruffled white shirt that hangs out from his wide-sleeved cuffs, spilling over his gloved hands. The jacket’s snug enough it fits his shoulders and chest perfectly, and he’s carrying a cane.
“Where’s your mask?” I ask.
“Here.” He flaps his arm up, letting it fall back to his side, still staring in surprise at me. I see a feathered face and top half of a beak hanging at the ends of black ribbons.