I dream of a silver-haired boy, staring at me like I am the center of his universe. He calls to me, just like the melodies in the ocean. Except I fear those mysterious calls—his, I long to follow. When I reach him, his fingers glide across my cheek. His lips touch mine gently. But it quickly turns more intense, filling my whole body with desire.
His lips travel places that would make even the most scandalous debutant blush.
I wake panting, the desire lingering. I open my eyes, remembering where I am. In one of the largest manors in one of the largest growing cities in these United Stated. With white silk sheets and pure gold chandelier.
Who am I? I wonder.
Am I the girl that belongs in this place? The girl I once was. Or am I the girl sailing with pirates and living a passionate romance like my dreams? Because the old Whitley wouldn’t have those kinds of thoughts.
There’s a third option, I remember.
The monster I became in the dark of night, in the downtown mafia slums. The creature only at home in the salty waves of the deep.
Being that creature felt good. There was nothing to stop me from having all the things I wanted, right in that moment. No guilt. The only pain is physical, and that I can avoid. It’s simple.
But lonely.
It’s missing something. When I’m that creature, I’m missing me—my soul. That creature takes over all of who I am until there is none of Whitley left.
And I’m missing the boy in my head—a boy whose name I can’t remember. But the way he makes me feel won’t leave me alone. I can’t have him and be that beast at the same time.
A woman comes into my room, draws the curtains, sending the bright sun cascading into the room. “We have a seamstress here for you, miss.”
I sit up. “Really?”
“Master Jeb informed us you’d be joining him at the Carltons’ ball this evening. You’ll need a dress, of course.”
“It’s a bit late to have a dress made, is it not?”
“Well, yes. But we have some options that seamstress can alter for you in time.”
“That would be very nice,” I say.
“Would you like some tea first? Or shall I send her right in?”
“Send her in,” I say, too eager to see the beautiful dresses.
Several minutes later, a woman comes in rolling a rack filled with dresses of beautiful colors and intricate fabrics.
I look through the dress, feeling the fabrics under my hands while she chats away. She tells me about the dress she made for Miss Carlton, soft yellow with a white bow. And of course her red satin dress for the biggest event of the year, which is coming up so fast! Mr. Robinson always has the grandest of affairs!
I ignore more of her ramblings as I browse through the dresses. One is thick and heavy. Another stitched so intricately it would most definitely be itchy. I find one with a beautiful greenish blue fabric that reminds me of the sea. It’s silky smooth and light.
“You like that one, miss?” the old woman asks me.
“I do.”
“Let’s try it on, then.” She smiles sincerely. “It’s not quite as grand as the dress I’d been imagining for you, but it is lovely.”
“Oh?” I prompt her, half-heartedly.
She smiles shyly. “I’d been counting down the days to your engagement so I could get my hands on you. You’d look so lovely in a wedding dress,” she says. “I almost thought that lost, I must admit.”
“It is lost,” I whisper. She doesn’t respond as she sets to work.
Bluff
“Lord Sonseca,” Robert’s father begins as we bounce inside the carriage, rocking on the cobblestone roads. “Tell me, where do you reside currently?”
“Nowhere, truly. I was in the process of moving to Boston from Spain when the accident happen. I must make my way up there soon to ensure my property is retained.” Making things up on the spot is a specialty of mine.
“We’d be happy to help,” he says, nodding. “Though we do have an engagement this evening. The Carlton sisters are having a coming out ball.”
Rosemera’s eyebrows rise.
“Perhaps you’d like to join us?” Robert asks hopefully.
“Surely they’re tired from their trip. A same day ball would be overwhelming.”
“Not at all!” I jump in eagerly, smiling. “We’d love to go to a ball.”
Robert’s father narrows his eyes and then turns to glare at Robert and Rosemera. Predictability is the easiest way to play a part. He thinks I’m looking to push “Lady Rose” on Robert. He’s surely thinking we’re looking to get our hands on their money or status by a quick betrothal and what not. As much as I would like Robert and Rosemera to be together, it’s out of desire for their happiness, not at all about status or money. I happen to value freedom over those things.
My motives for going to the ball are much more complicated, but I’m happy to go with his assumptions. Makes my performance much easier.
“Of course a day or two of rest first would be ideal, but I won’t pass up the opportunity for that reason. You only live once.” I wink.
“Rest is important,” he says with a chin out.
“Throwing out mom’s old lines?” Robert says, rolling his eyes. “Like you listened to them while she was around.”
I clear my throat awkwardly, knowing it’s impolite in this part of town to ask for details.
“My wife died last year. Scarlett fever.”
I blink. “That’s terrible. I’m very sorry to hear it.”
“Thank you.”
“Rest is important, indeed,” I say. “However so is taking advantage of the moment.” I lean in. “In truth, I’ve always wanted to experience one of the legendary New York City balls. The events in Boston are said to be much less...refined.”
Robert’s father nods. “Very true. Don’t know how to hold their drink, even in the best of company.”
I smile. “Well, we’d love to see how it’s done in this magnificent city. But only if we’d be truly welcome. We wouldn’t want to impose.”
“Of course not.” Robert’s father says, waving his hand. “Everyone would be excited to see some new faces. Even in a city a big as this, it’s rather small, if you know what I mean.”
“I do indeed.”
“Very well, as soon as we arrive at the manor, I’ll send for the seamstress to ensure you have all you need to make the best impression possible.”
“That would be incredibly kind!” My smile is bigger than ever. It’s unnecessary, but I’ve created a smiley character that I must keep up with.
“Now tell me, any news or gossip I must know before tonight? Anything exciting happening in town as of late?”
“There’s always something exciting,” his grin turns mischievous.
“Oh?”
He goes on to tell me about a lass who recently showed up on pirate ship after fleeing from the mob—her father being a known con artist. Then, scandal! Immediately her betrothal to a very eligible bachelor was announced. Then she disappears again!
I give him all of the appropriate oohs and ahhs and shocked faces.
“That girl is into something bad, mark my words.” He shakes his head.
My stomach sinks. I try to remember that this high society life wasn’t what she really wanted. She told me she was ready to run away before Stede came for her a second time.
“I heard she showed back up,” Robert says quietly.
“What?” his father says, face shocked. As is mine. “She’s engaged to that poor boy again?”
“Not so far as I know, but he’s taken her in and I know Jeb. He’s too kind. I wouldn’t be surprised if he marries her just to save her.”
I grit my jaw. She certainly doesn’t need Jeb’s saving. I work to control the anger, a bitter taste rising to my mouth. Breathe. Breathe.
“So will she be at the ball, then? What a fascinating story.”
Rosemera gives me a side eye, either recognizing the new stress in my voice or j
ust knowing how this conversation must affect me.
“I’m not sure about that. It’s possible though.”
This is good news, I remind myself. Good news.
I know where she is. She’s safe. She’s not with the sirens. She’s not been found by Stede’s crew.
Just because she happens to be safe with her ex-fiancé... My stomach twists. She doesn’t love him. She doesn’t want him.
I stare out the window, suddenly not very talkative. Rose asks some silly question about the best color for the season, to pull the attention away from me, I assume. I appreciate it. I’m not sure I’m capable of keeping up my fake-happy demeanor at the moment.
I can find her, that’s the good news. And as much as I know it’s unlikely—Lord knows, if she’s fallen back in with Jeb, it would kill me. She may not even remember me or our time together. I don’t know what she knows or what she might revert back to after what’s happened to her.
It’s vain to hope she couldn’t be happy with him. But that’s one selfish emotion I can’t help but embrace.
Whitley
The carriage is quiet as we rumble down the street, but outside there are sounds that I can’t ignore.
The sea is nearby. I can feel the rush. Then, there’s the dull melody reverberating from the waves. It’s like someone calling in the distance. So far I can’t quite tell if it’s real or in my head. I don’t have to ask if anyone one else can hear to know it’s just for me.
The sirens are near, and they desperately desire me.
“We’re here.”
I blink back to reality, to see Jeb holding his hand out to me. The carriage has stopped at the downtown manor, lanterns lit brightly behind him.
I remember a time an event like this was the epitome of excitement. I attended my first not long after my fifteenth birthday. One of the few things I could truly look forward to. My father once held out his hand to me in the same way. “Ready?” he’d asked.
I wasn’t. I hadn’t realize it at the time, but I was not ready for the arrogance, and lack of value for human life, I’d witness inside those massive walls, veiled by ‘propriety’ and beauty.
I remember taking my father’s hand, excitedly, that first ball, possibilities streaming through my mind. I was so naive. I wanted to dance, and be sought after by rich handsome men. That was before I knew of Jeb’s intentions. We were friends, but until that first year after coming out, I hadn’t known he would actually want to marry me.
This was also before I knew what other men in this society were really like beneath the surface.
“Shoulders back. Men want to see your breast first,” my father hissed once.
“Your value is in your beauty, not your mouth. Shut it.”
“You’re the best business transaction of my life, my sweet.”
I was a thing to my father, even more so than the men of this society. And that was saying something. The old men stared at my chest. The looks in their eyes told me they were looking through my beautiful golden dress. Others asked about my health, my ability to have babies.
I was like a prized cow to be sold. To the slaughter or for breeding was of no consequence, so long as my father profited.
Jeb’s brown eyes peer into my face. “Are you ready?” he asks.
I shake my head and register the kind face in front of me. But not all men are bad.
This time, I am ready.
I’m ready to look those men in their beady eyes. I’m ready to make them sorry for looking at a woman—any woman—as a possession instead of person.
I take Jeb’s hand.
Bluff
I am comfortable playing a part. It’s easy to pretend to be someone else—to live another life—because there are no real consequences.
If something goes wrong, I can hop into someone else’s skin and start all over again. Escape is easy in situations like this.
And yet, as I stand here—the huge stone manor staring down at us, Rosemera and her beau next to me—my hands sweat. I may be playing a part, Lady Rose’s rich Spanish uncle, but the stakes are so much higher than that.
My stomach clenches at the thought of facing her again. I’m scared of looking into her silver siren eyes and being disgusted. I’m terrified that I’ll see Whitley, and she’ll be disgusted with me.
I want, so badly, for this to be easy. For her to fall into my arms and escape with me. But nothing in my life as ever been that easy.
“Are you well?” Rose whispers to me.
I grit my teeth, determined. I will fight until it’s truly over, impossible or not. I nod.
We enter the manor, music already bouncing joyfully. There is a full orchestra at the front of the ballroom, the strings and brass instruments filling the space.
The men and women who surround us talk excitedly. Gossip, comparisons, jealousy, pity. I am surrounded by a sea of comfort and beauty, luxurious fabrics and plump bellies. Beneath the surface, though, is a sea of judgement.
I search the crowds, looking for anyone I recognize. Jeb or Whitley, preferably.
I jerk in the direction of long blond hair, spinning around on the dance floor. Not her. My stomach sinks.
“You’re new,” a man says, suddenly next to me.
I jump and turn to meet an older man, thin with eyes too small for his face. He smiles, but there is something behind his eyes—a cruelty that reminds me of specific type of pirate that I avoid at all costs. I suspect this man would fit right in on Stede’s ship.
“I am,” I say with a big smile. “Lord Sonseca.” I hold out my hand.
He takes it. “Lord Robinson,” he says, though I suspect he threw in the Lord part just to be even with my title. America doesn’t so much have “Lords.” Bloodlines matter much less in this part of the world. Money and power are the currencies they value. I could argue it’s better. At least the lesser beings have a chance, but the corruption is so deep, it doesn’t much make a difference.
“You’re...Spanish?” he asks.
“Correct! Impressive,” I say, implying I’m impressed with him for correctly identifying my accent when I’m really impressed with myself for giving a passible Spanish accent.
“You sound much like my last house maid. She was Spanish as well.”
I narrow my eyes, noting his implication. Spaniards are beneath him.
“Very nice,” I say, pretending I didn’t catch his insult.
“You came with Mr. Windsor?” he asks. “The dark-skinned young lady is with you, yes? She is quite beautiful.”
My face stays flat. “Yes. She is my niece.”
“I do love an exotic beauty.”
I suppress an eye roll.
“I’d love the chance to... get to know her. And you, of course,” he says, leaning in so that his rank breath hits my face. I don’t suppress the wince.
I slow blink, eye steady. “I don’t suspect we’ll be interested in that offer.” I am not very concerned with high-society politeness, not with man this sleazy. And if he doesn’t get those beady eyes off of Rosemera soon, he’s going to get a fist to the face.
“Oh? Is she betrothed then?” He leans back, chest out, head high, seemingly not at all bothered by my rude response. “Not that it matters,” he says without waiting for a response. “It’s never stopped me before.”
He looks out over the ballroom, his eyes narrowing, then growing wide. “Finally,” he whispers as he pushes into the crowd.
I quickly follow his gaze and freeze. I don’t know if it’s the same sight that caught his attention, but it doesn’t much matter. Because a certain blonde beauty is a silk dress has my whole world frozen in a mixture of delight and terror.
Whitley
I waste no time, separating myself from Jeb and rushing to the dance floor. The music ebbs and flows like the swell of the waves, and I allow it to lure me.
Even without a dance companion, I spin through the twisting pairs, the fabric of my blue dress flowing freely along with theirs. Almost instantly, ther
e is a hand at my waist, and another on my hand. He pulls me to him, spinning around with me. I fall into the position my body has memorized and follow the steps of the waltz that have been not so gently ingrained into me since childhood.
Even this dance feels like a representation of the oppression of this place. Something I once thought would be so fun is just another way to control me.
Anger bubbles in my chest.
Followed by hunger.
I look up into the eyes of the stranger dancing with me. They are large and brown. I search for cruelty, some excuse to rip into him here and now. I want to. My tongue is dry, aching for the warmth of blood.
I swallow, remembering who I am. Or who I think I might be.
Would Whitley have such violent desires? Should I have them?
But, damn, if they don’t feel so achingly good.
I don’t yet have enough evidence to be sure this boy is worthy of death. He may have pulled me into this dance out of sympathy, to save me from embarrassment of dancing alone.
Or perhaps he sees my body and pretty face and longs to take me. If that is true, I could justify the monster inside.
I’d like to kill you, I whisper inside my mind. Purring. I just need an excuse.
Want me.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he says as we continue our rapid pattern of spinning and stepping, spin step, spin step. Pleasure fills my stomach. Yes.
The song ends, quickly beginning another, but my partner stops, lips curling into an honest smile. “Dancing with you was my best choice yet.” He brushes hair back from his forehead awkwardly. “Would you like a drink? I’ll get you a drink.”
I nod and allow him to rush from me, eager to fetch me something. Not the kind of hunger I’m hoping for. That boy is too sincere.
The hunt continues.
Twisting through the crowd, I disappear from view, feeling sorry for the inevitable disappointment he’ll face when he returns to find me gone.
I don’t spend long on my sympathy. I turn my mind back onto the hunt as I drift through mass of bodies, knowing that there are many here worthy of death. It’s only a matter of time before they come to me.
Bound by the Depths Page 10