by RaeLynn Fry
“Do you need help putting it on?”
He snaps out of his daze with a shake of his head and clears his throat. “No, no. I can do it.” With deft fingers, he ties the ribbons behind his head. His eyes sparkle from behind the black feathers. A few longer ones curve up and over his head, highlighted in a dark green.
“I don’t think anyone’s going to recognize us,” I say.
“Let’s hope not.” Ethan holds out his arm for me to take. I slip my hand in the crook of his elbow. It’s beginning to grow into a familiar place.
“A cane?” I asked as we walk to the door.
“I've always liked how they look, and this is a somewhat important event, so I thought it appropriate. Regal, even.”
“I’ll see you two later,” Ella says. “I have a few things to finish up before I head to the party. Behave,” she says before she shuts the door.
Ethan and I walk arm in arm through the streets of the apartment quarter. The night’s black with streetlamps placed evenly to light our way. I catch him staring at me, and his eyes dart away as he clears his throat.
“How many people are invited to the party?” I ask.
“These things are always over the top, so probably a few hundred.”
“That many?” My chest tightens.
Ethan squeezes my hand. “Don't worry about it. You belong here. Everything’ll be fine.” There’s a small pause before he clears his throat and says in a low voice, “You look beautiful."
His comment causes a smile to bubble up through my chest, breaking on the surface of my face, but I try not to let it show. “You said that already.”
“It's because you do.”
“You sound as though you didn't think it possible,” I tease.
“That's not it at all. I know you’re beautiful—I’ve see it every day we’ve been together—I just wasn’t prepared to have to fight off all the guys who are going to try and take you off my arm tonight. I'll have to keep you extra close.” He pulls me into his side.
The dimly lit streets start to fill with citizens making their way to the Hall. Apparently the eight o’clock deadline was a loose one. There’s excited chatter all around, and laughter lets loose at random, but frequent, intervals. No one recognizes anyone, but everyone greets one another, the mood of the celebration is contagious like a rabid fire. It isn’t long before I find myself gripping Ethan’s arm in excitement as we engage in a superficial, but seemingly giddy, conversation with another couple. The party could be held in the streets right here, and I’d have an amazing time.
As we pull away from the pocket of people, Ethan’s warm breath tickles my neck as he leans over and says, “That was Daniel, Georgia’s son.”
“I thought you weren’t supposed to know who anyone was.”
“They aren’t supposed to know who we are.” His free hand rests on top of mine, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. I shiver slightly as he rubs his thumb over the back of my gloved hand. “Are you cold?” he asks.
“No, just excited,” I say.
The grand façade of the Hall stretches out before us like a sleeping giant, a two-story building with rows of windows across the front and porticoes lining the entrance. Large spotlights squat on the ground, lighting up the sandstone exterior. Crimson and bronze tapestries hang from the roof, billowing in the light breeze against the outside walls. We stand in line with the other guests waiting to enter through wide double doors. I try to regulate my heartbeat and breathing as we pass a row of Military Guards. Ethan hands over two gold invitations, and we enter without as much as a second look.
The interior of the building takes my breath away. No electric lights are present; instead, hundreds of gold and cream-colored candles of every size and shape illuminate the grand space. Clustered on the floor, in alcoves and on shelves, crammed in chandeliers and in candelabras, displayed on tables and behind glass. The effect is dreamlike.
Sheer bronze curtains hang from the ceiling at seemingly random locations in the room, tied back to the wall. Clustered sitting areas of chaise lounges and overstuffed ottomans as well as tables are sprinkled throughout. Gold and dark red fabric hang in soft billows from the exposed rafters, their tails trailing in the air, just out of reach of the guests. I feel like I’ve stepped into another time in history.
“It’s beautiful,” I say.
“The Corporation goes all out for Akin’s son’s birthday.” Ethan unhooks his arm from my hand and slips it behind my back. We stand in silence at the mouth of the room, groups of guests passing us and filling in the open space.
“Just beyond this threshold is a world you've never experienced before,” Ethan says, taking a breath. “You'll either end up addicted or disgusted.”
“Which are you?” I ask.
He gives a tight smile but doesn't answer as he leads the way into the party.
Nineteen
The Hall is large, but clustered with so many people, it feels entirely too small. Some guests only wear a fancy dress or tuxedo with an elaborate mask, but the majority wear detailed and garish costumes. I see a butterfly similar to the one in Georgia’s shop, but with iridescent green wings for the skirt instead of orange. A man wears a mask in the fashion of a zebra with a tail fastened to the seat of his pants.
One woman is dressed from head to toe in gold, even her skin has been painted for the evening, and I wonder if she’s pretending to be King Midas’ wife. I see a beautiful woman dressed as an angel with feathered wings that sweep down her back, her companion a red devil with frightening, curved horns attached to his mask. Several of the younger girls are dressed as faeries and other whimsical creatures.
Music floats up from a small stringed band nestled in a corner. The large space quickly fills with laughter, conversation, and the clinking of glasses as drinks and food are passed around by servants. It isn’t long before the room is almost shoulder-to-shoulder with people. I swallow dryly as the humidity of the space rises, and my body temperature becomes almost unbearable. A familiar dizziness threatens to beat me down like a thousand heavy hammers, but I push it back, determined not to let this keep me from completing our mission. How easy it is to forget my real life and get lost in this one. For a second, I can imagine living in this world and being happy.
We move through the crowd, and I try to mimic Ethan's actions: head up, eyes forward, stride confident. But it's hard. I feel the stares and whispers behind our backs and the eyes that rake over me. Is the dress too much? Should I have put my hair up? My fingers tighten around Ethan's arm.
“Relax,” he says through a genuine-looking smile. He doesn't have to bother whispering. The room is so overcrowded with talking and laughing and shouting that I start to relax and convince myself that I'm not as noticeable as I fear. Ethan's hand brushes over mine in a comforting gesture.
“How about something to eat?" he asks. “They always have the best food at these things.” Without waiting for a response, he steers us toward tables weighed down with a variety of items. “Wait here. I’ll bring you back a surprise.”
Ethan deposits me at a round table layered high with glasses stacked in the shape of a pyramid. I grab a flute near the top filled with some sort of golden drink that bubbles from its deep belly, thinking it might help with my head. I watch their haphazard journey to the surface with interest and curiosity. I bring it to my nose, and the little bubbles burst just inside my nostrils, tickling them. I take a sip. It’s fruity and delicious. I pass the time waiting for Ethan drinking from the pyramid.
The fruity liquid doesn’t rid me of my headache, but it helps with my nerves. A warmth settles in my belly almost immediately, slowly spreading to my toes and fingertips, gently untangling my nerves. I don’t know why Ethan didn’t want to bring me along. I feel great and there’s nothing dangerous going on, only a group of people having a good time. And I’m one of them.
I let myself smile as I watch the party. My shoulders lighten, and my head feels like it’s filling with air an
d it might detach from my neck.
“Sorry for the wait; there was a line. Try this,” Ethan says when he arrives. He’s taken off his gloves and is holding a bright red fruit covered in something dark. The scent of sugar makes my mouth water.
“What are they?" I ask.
Ethan's eyes sparkle like they do when he knows something someone else doesn't. “Trust me.”
I give him a wary look before smiling. Of course I trust him. I bite down through the crisp, dark layer, sinking my teeth into a soft, juicy center. Syrupy liquid explodes into my mouth, dribbling out the corner of my lips and down my chin. “It's delicious!” I exclaim through my chewing. “What is it?”
Ethan wipes juice away from my mouth with his thumb. My eyes widen when his skin makes contact with mine. It feels like the pads of his fingers are filled with electricity, bringing my nerves to life. He smiles at my reaction. “It's a strawberry dipped in chocolate.” He makes his disappear in one bite.
I recognize the last word, and a distant memory surges forward, one of my mother before she left. She’d gotten chocolate once and given it to me as a surprise. As I try to pull at the rest of the memory, it begins to skip and jerk before crumbling apart in jagged pieces. It’s a strange sensation; I know there’s more to the memory, but my brain can’t latch onto it, only a black void. The more I try, the more unstable I feel. I push the uncomfortable sensation away, blaming it on the drink.
“What?” Ethan asks, staring at me.
I shake my head. “Just a memory.” I grab a glass of what I’m drinking and hand it to him. “I'm not sure what this is, but everyone else was grabbing one, so I thought I'd better too. It’s delicious, really.”
“I like your thinking.” Ethan winks at me when he takes one of the glasses, downing it in one gulp. His eyes double in size when I do the same. “How many of those have you had?” Ethan takes my empty glass, setting it on a waiter’s tray as they passes by. He picks up two more glasses in a swift motion, handing me one.
“You were taking a long time,” I say defensively.
He laughs a little. “I wasn’t gone that long, Karis. How many have you had so far?”
“What? It tastes good.” I feel my checks warming. “And the glasses are tiny.”
“How many?” He’s trying to look stern, but it only makes me laugh. My head feels as if it’s floating above my shoulders, tethered only by a string. He’s kind of cute when he gives me that look.
“Including that last glass? This will be number four.” Ethan reaches for my drink, but I swing out of the way, almost losing my balance. I blink in surprise. “I think it’s affecting my ability to stand straight.” I say and giggle. Why is that funny? I don’t know or care.
“Champagne will do that to you.”
The drink’s left my head fuzzy and warm, and the light feeling in my stomach, legs, and arms has intensified. My entire body, really. I don’t think I’ve been this relaxed in a long time. Too long. I don’t know why I was so worried about coming to the party. If we’re caught, what’s the worst that could happen? I can’t keep the smile from my numb lips or the fact that everything puts me in a good mood.
“I like this party,” I say.
“I bet you do,” Ethan says.
“I don’t know why you were so wary of bringing me here. I fit in perfectly.” I take another sip from my glass. “I have a question,” I say.
“Ask away.”
“Yesterday, in the market, Mag said you give your kisses away.”
His neck starts to turn red. “Mag was exaggerating—”
“Why haven’t you given one to me, yet? I mean, we’ve been together every day for the past—”
“I’d like to change the subject, please.” He clears his throat and laughs nervously. I’ve never seen him this distracted before. There’s sweat sprouting at his hairline by his ears, and the red has crept from his neck to his cheeks.
I put one of my hands on his chest, over his heart. It feels like a trapped rabbit. “Don’t you want to kiss me?” I ask with wide eyes and a small pout. I know I’m being cruel, but something’s pushing me to keep going. I lean forward, a smile on my lips, eyeing his. I watch his tongue dart out and wet his bottom lip before he bites on it.
I lean in slowly and watch his eyes widen. My smile only gets stronger. My lips graze his ear, and I’m overwhelmed by his intoxicating scent as I whisper, “Because right now, that’s all I can think about.”
“Good evening!” A small group walks by and greets us. Ethan smiles and takes a step away from me.
I laugh and smile back at the group. “Hello!” I say a little too loudly and wave at them, almost spilling my drink. I giggle as I say, “Oops.”
“Let’s walk,” he says. “And no more champagne for you.”
“Why?” I pout.
“Because it makes you far too reckless.”
“Or far too brave,” I say, taking the arm that he holds out. We start to take a tour of the Hall, and I can’t help but notice Ethan’s trying to keep his distance from me. I think he needs another drink. To get a little bravery into his blood.
I finish off my glass of champagne and reach for another on a passing tray. Ethan takes it from me as soon as I get it and slips it into the hands of a guest without pause. “I think four’s fine for now. I don’t want to end up carrying you home.” I don’t protest because I plan to grab another when he isn’t looking.
We make our way through the thick crowd. “Why the need for such a large birthday party?” I ask.
“Because some poor bloke has a father who feels the need to announce to the entire city that his son’s one year older.”
“Must be nice to get all this attention.”
“Not really—”
“Oye! Let’s see if we can guess who these two are,” a deep voice booms from behind us.
“Not now,” Ethan says under his breath.
Within seconds, the owner of the voice and his date stand in front of us. The man is dressed all in black, with a long robe fastened at his shoulders. His date is as tall as he is—which is a good three inches taller than Ethan—and statuesque enough in her dress to make me blush.
Her gown is the color of flesh and slinks over her like her own skin. It sweeps down to the floor, covering her feet and accentuating every curve. It’s covered in something so tiny I can’t make it out. Whatever they are, they add a silky and sparkling sheen over her entire frame. Her blond hair is slicked back from her face in a tight ponytail, and she wears no makeup. She doesn’t need to.
“Good evening,” Ethan says, his voice tight.
“Good evening.” The man in black’s voice and gestures are a bit over the top. The girl does a modest dip of her head. “Who do you think they are, my dear?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” her voice is as silky as her dress. “What do you like to do for fun?”
Ethan’s fingers flex against my back. “Add numbers together.”
“Liar,” the man says with a sly grin.
“How would you know?” Irritation pulses off Ethan through the pads of his fingers.
“You’re taking this whole mystery element sincerely, I see. Very well, I’ll play.” The newcomer rubs at his chin. “Your parents—”
“You can’t be serious,” Ethan says. I look between my date and the stranger.
The man in black chuckles. “Come on, Ethan. How could I not know it was you?”
“Wishful thinking?” he grumbles.
“I’ve known you since we were old enough to get into trouble together.”
I look over and see Ethan’s cheeks flush. He clears his throat. “Well, tonight you don’t. We’re all supposed to be anonymous, remember?”
“Fine, if that’s how you want to play it. But you have to tell me,” the man in black turns my direction, “who is your exquisite date?”
“Mystery, remember?” Ethan’s smile is tight.
I do my best courtesy, flushing at the compliment. “It’s nice
to meet you.”
The man in black takes my hand and gives it a lingering kiss. Even through my gloves, I can feel the soft pressure of his lips. Now my cheeks are turning red. His date gives a polite but irritated squeak of a cough. His mouth curve into a smile against my hand. “I take it Pearl hasn’t seen you yet tonight?” he says as he rises.
“What makes you say that?” Ethan says. Whoever this man in black is, he’s irritating Ethan more than I thought possible. It’s highly amusing.
“Because you’re still alive.”
“She knows the arrangement.”
“She’s a woman, Ethan, arrangement or not.”
“Can we talk about something else?” Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Very well. What’s your costume? A blackbird?”
“Raven,” Ethan says.
“I thought you were coming as a phoenix?”
“I changed my mind.”
“At least you kept it in the same genus. Which seems to be a theme tonight. And you, my lovely, are a….blue bird?”
I twist my body and look over my shoulder so he can see the plumage at the back of the dress. I hear Ethan groan, making me smile broader. This is too much fun.
“Ah, a peacock,” the man says.
“Very good…” I trail off.
“Benjamin,” he says.
“Mystery,” Ethan sings in an irritated voice.
“And this is my Pair, Fifi. The blond dips her head again and smiles.
“And what are you two supposed to be?” Ethan asks tersely.
A waiter wearing a black and white mask passes by with a tray of drinks in long stemmed glasses with wider cups than the champagne glasses. Benjamin grabs two in each hand, giving a set to Ethan and me, saving the others for himself and Fifi.
“Thanks,” Ethan says, sans gratitude.
“You have to guess what we are.” Benjamin takes a sip of his drink.
I take a drink of the dark purple liquid and fight the urge to spit it back into the glass. It’s dry and bitter.