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“I like cats,” she blurted, the first thing that came to mind.
“I’m more familiar with mice,” he said, and she thought of the squeaks in the passageway and how many of the little rodents must have been skittering around the house that very moment.
“Mice?” Fia laughed uneasily, reminded of Penbrook’s whiskery teasing. She wondered why it was taking him so long to return, wishing he’d hurry. But it probably wasn’t easy dragging Andromeda from the dance floor.
“What’s there to like about cats?” Sebastian asked, as if he’d never met one he was fond of.
“Everything. They’re downright sneaky, conceited beyond measure, terribly judgmental.” Oh, Finnick! “And the most wonderful cuddle balls.” Why, yes, she was nervously rambling again.
Sebastian swung her around as the song wound down, the high notes of the piano striking sharply out of tune.
“Cuddle balls,” he muttered with perhaps the most emotion she’d drawn from him, though she couldn’t actually tell what he was feeling.
Another awkward moment passed, their dance no less strange, Sebastian’s intentions no clearer, Fia’s worries no better settled. Maybe she should have let the silence extend, but she couldn’t stop herself from filling it. “Lovely weather tonight. You couldn’t have planned the ball for a better evening.”
“How fortunate,” he said listlessly, and then, almost to himself he added, “You’re very much like anyone else.”
Fia wasn’t sure how he meant her to take the comment. Likely, he didn’t much care that his words came out rudely. “Excuse me?”
“Very well.” Spoken as if he were accepting an apology for her being so ordinary.
The last notes of the magicked tune tinkled around them, and Sebastian stepped back, releasing Fia in one final spin all her own. As she stilled, dizzy and uncertain and annoyed, the girl in the pearl-beaded gown and the boy in the maroon suit who’d been upstairs kissing slipped past the doorway, completely racked with giggles (and likely too much champagne).
Sebastian Smith watched them go, like he had no idea why they were so joyful.
And he stood there still, coldly removed, as Fia hastily bid him good night.
Fia hurried outside, where she found Penbrook and Andromeda waiting for her. If they’d seen her dancing with Sebastian, they said nothing. Andromeda only took her hand as they silently flew down the steps.
They all but tumbled into the carriage, tripping over their magically returned shoes lined all in a row on the floor, and then they were off, The Book of Ribs stolen away with them. The wheels clattered against the dirt road, though not nearly as fast as Fia would have liked. She kept expecting Sebastian Smith’s voice to ring out in the night, halting their progress before they could make it through the gate.
Andromeda laughed, falling against the plush seat and not bothering with her slippers. She propped her bare feet up on the seat across from her, practically in Penbrook’s lap. “Well, that was even more exciting than I expected. I’ve never had to make a mad dash getaway before.”
“Haven’t you, Heartcrusher?” Penbrook asked wryly.
Laughing harder, Andromeda played with the engagement rings around her neck. “All right, you have me there. But this time was altogether more fun with company.” She nudged Fia with her elbow.
“So glad we sufficiently entertained you,” Penbrook said, side-eyeing her grass-stained toes.
Fia left her shoes on the floor of the carriage too, tucking her legs up underneath her. She didn’t feel like she could breathe, not properly. Not until they were farther away from the Willows. So her voice came out high and thin as she asked, “Curses aren’t contagious, are they?”
“Unlikely,” Penbrook replied.
“Of course not,” Andromeda said more reassuringly, shooting a patent glare across the carriage.
“I’m just so absolutely exhausted.” Fia had been a twist of nerves all night, and now that she allowed herself to crash in the safety of the coach, all her adrenaline drained out of her. She felt like a sack of potatoes, one too heavy to move. She couldn’t imagine how Penbrook and Andromeda must be feeling—far worse, she was sure. “I shouldn’t complain. I’m sorry.”
“Apparently sleep will have its way with all of us,” Penbrook said with grave sympathy.
“Not if I’ve got anything to say about it.” Andromeda’s hazel eyes narrowed. “You have the grimoire, haven’t you?”
“I do.” With a careful hand, Penbrook plucked the book from the pocket of his coat. Still sheathed in the black pouch, there was nothing to warn of the creeping thing it was, and that seemed almost more threatening. For something dangerous to mask itself so well.
Andromeda held out her hand. “Let me see it.”
“Shouldn’t we wait?” Fia asked around a yawn. It seemed such a risk to mess with dark magic out in the middle of nowhere in Bramble when all of them were so beyond tired.
“I just want a peek.”
