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There’s only one person I’d trust to help me with something so dangerous. But I’m not sure how to send him a message without knowing his full name. I crack my door open but find one of Grandmom’s Draguns standing sentry outside it. Sneaking off to the Tavern won’t work.
Who else can I trust? Abby? I grab a note to write to her, but I hesitate when the pen hits the paper. I’ve never asked anything of her more than advice here or there. I chew off my nail, hoping I’m making the right decision.
Abs,
I have so much to tell you. It’s not safe here anymore. For now, do exactly what I say. Go to the Tavern and find a trader by the name of Octos. Tell him I need his help. He will come with you. Don’t come to Cotillion. Meet me afterward in the forest on the usual trail we would take to the Tavern. I’ll explain everything.
—Quell
I grab another paper and write to Mom, telling her there’s been a change of plans and asking her to meet me in the same place as Abby.
Butterflies swarm in my stomach as I seal the envelopes and write their names on the front. I stuff the letters into my shirt and reopen my door. The Dragun doesn’t say anything, so I don’t say anything to him. I recognize him as the one who’s occasionally outside of Grandmom’s door. I slip past him and he stalks me, like a shadow.
“Just going to Mrs. Cuthers to be sure we’re set for tomorrow.”
He gestures for me to continue on, but when I take another step, he sticks to my heels. Mrs. Cuthers’s door is unlocked when we arrive. The Dragun hovers in the doorway watching as I rummage around inside, pretending to look through stacks of boxes she has. Her desk is mostly tidy, and I pretend to shuffle through the few things she has there, careful to angle my body just so, to block his view of the wooden tray on her desk. My heart hammers as I slip the envelopes out of my shirt and into the outbox. They disappear immediately.
FORTY-EIGHT
Grandmom sent staff to gather my dress, shoes, accessories, and things late last night. The next morning, I wake before my alarm, painfully aware that tonight I leave this place. The comfort of this bed, the security of these walls, the laughter held within this room. It’s over. A part of me aches, wishing I could live a moment longer in this nightmare and still pretend it’s a daydream. It’s a naive thought, but undeniable.
I grab my dagger, some enhancers I have left, a few books, and my postcard of the beach. Once my bag is full I exit and pull the door to my room closed. My fist tightens on the knob. I’ve left countless places. But this feels different. Because I believed this place would be different.
The clarity unsticks my fingers from the brass, and I force myself to back away. To see this for what it is. I was seduced by Chateau Soleil’s glitter, the allure that I could fit in a place so magnificent. That being here would tell me who the girl in the mirror is, when it’s how I saw her that needed to change. I’m still figuring out who she is.
But whoever that girl is—she is free.
The House is as quiet as it was when I went to bed. I glimpse the hall that leads to the Gents Wing as I pass, and my anger mangles with sorrow. I don’t want to see him until I absolutely have to. I’m not sure how I’ll bear to even look at him or how it will feel. Forget him. Forget it all.
I climb the stairs and knock on Grandmom’s door.
“Right on time,” she says, her hair still up in curlers. “Well, you don’t look excited. Today’s your big day.”
I reach for a smile but my gut swims with irritation at having to pretend all over again. She and her puppets will fawn over me and I’ll have to bear it. I’ll have to play the part of the obedient heir. One more time. I swallow it down and it burns like bile. But this is the beginning of the end. My lips tug up a bit easier.
“Much better.” She opens the door wider and I step inside.
* * *
My dress hangs from the window in Grandmom’s sitting room, caught in the morning’s glow. I run my fingers across its fabric, every speckle intentionally placed, and imagine what it would feel like to put this on and not know. To go out there wrapped in the beauty and perfume of Grandmom’s world oblivious of the rot hidden between its layers. How glorious that must feel. Did Mom get that far? I’m going to ask her. I’m going to ask her a lot of things when we get back together.
I survey the rest of everything set out for me. Sparkly shoes and a handbag in satin blush with a fleur clasp that was specifically made for tonight’s ceremony. It’s all so gorgeous. Maybe I’ll pretend, tonight, that all this get-up, the pomp and circumstance, is a toast to freeing myself. Grandmom watches me closely, from her breakfast table, and for a moment, I worry she’s heard my treasonous thoughts.
A wooden box engraved with the name Collins is set next to a boutonniere made with black dahlia and pink peony. I crack it open and my blade gleams at me, shinier than I’ve ever seen it.
“All in order?” Grandmom asks.
“I think so.”
“Plume is managing the setup downstairs. I peeked at the centerpieces; they’re beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
I’m summoned for a bath by beauty Shifters who fawn over me with elixirs to decorate my nails, soften my skin, and give it a glow. When the bath is finished, the Shifter does something else that makes me smell like a garden of roses. Once I’m dressed, I cover myself in a robe and join Grandmom in the sitting room, where a meal awaits.
“Have you eaten?” She slides me a plate and I take a few bites, too distracted by what’s ahead to eat. A bell chimes and the door opens. It’s Mrs. Cuthers with an envelope, with Abby’s name in slanted letters on the back.
“This came for you, Quell.”
