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And then I reached the belle in blue.
She was the first of the women who locked eyes with me as I reached out to caress her necklace. It was the first time I was close enough to see how flecks of gold danced with the color green in her eyes. The gold in her irises matched the gilded highlights in her blonde hair. Her creator had painted her beauty with an expert hand.
Long lashes hooded her gaze which softened the severity of how she stared at me, but I could see she was sizing me up just as I was her.
She never blinked… like she was daring me.
An unspoken conversation challenged me to do more than just stroke the necklace and move on like I had been doing with each girl before her.
I was the first to break the eye connection by looking down to the string of white spheres resting against her silken flesh. I picked up the necklace and placed a pearl on her glossy lower lip. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the action seemed as natural as breathing.
The belle in blue parted her lips slightly, her eyes still locked on me. She didn’t move, didn’t cower, didn’t resist.
I pushed the pearl a little further. The action between us was so subtle, and so private that I was sure the Elders wouldn’t be able to make out what was happening.
It was our secret.
A clandestine act belonging to just us in a world of cloak and daggers.
Her tongue darted out and licked the pearl as a soft breath followed close behind.
Was she hushing my thoughts or blowing them away?
I circled the pearl around her tongue, coating her lips with the smoothness. The act was brief but long enough for me to know.
I wanted the belle in blue.
Not needing to continue on down the line of other belles, I removed the pearl from her mouth and yanked hard.
The necklace broke from her neck and the tiny pearls scattered around our shoes. Her eyes widened, but she remained in place.
Breaking the necklace. An act to show just how easy it is for The Order of the Silver Ghost to give you riches only to take them away. What you believe to be yours can be ruined with such ease.
Years of pearls from broken necklaces hid in the nooks and crannies of the white ballroom. As boys, we would love sneaking into the room as our fathers conducted their meetings or met with their mistresses. We would search for the pearls and then chuck them at each other as we engaged in our own rich boy version of paint ball. Being hit with a white little bead stung like a son of a bitch, but we’d loved the game regardless.
With the only sound of the room being the rolling of pearls against the colorless floor, I replaced the white that had been on her neck with the color black. Locking eyes, I crossed the ribbon at her throat and pulled tightly. I took a moment as I yanked the satin harder and tighter than needed as a warning.
This was her chance. She could run. She could shake her head. She could give me some signal that she didn’t want this. I would have given her that wish if I saw the smallest glimmer of fear. I would have moved on to a more willing belle.
But her expression never changed. Her eyes didn’t flicker.
She chose me just as I chose her.
Tying the ribbon into a bow around her neck, I heard, “Montgomery Kingston, have you chosen your belle for the Initiation?”
I took a step back from the belle in blue and nodded.
“I have chosen.”
8
Grace
Ten Minutes Earlier
You will stay calm, cool, and collected, I told myself as they paraded us into the white ballroom, and I got my first glimpse of the silver-hooded members of The Order of the Silver Ghost.
My heart was pounding about a jillion beats per minute though I prayed it didn’t show on my face. Calm, cool, and fucking collected. I wasn’t going to let any of these men intimidate me.
At least that’s what I told myself after Mrs. Hawthorne’s lackeys finally finished polishing and spritzing me into perfection hours earlier.
I had still looked like myself when I was finally allowed to glance in the mirror as Mrs. Hawthorne herself lifted the string of pearls and cinched the clasp behind my neck. But it was like I was walking around with an Instagram filter on. My skin was flawless. My eyes had never seemed so large or luminous.
I thought that the pearls were just the topping on an elegant cake. When I finally met the other belles in contention for the “gentleman,” that was what I was reminded of—beautiful cupcakes. We were tufted with layers of silk frosting all for the sake of being beautiful to look at. But it was an illusion. Really we were just here to be eaten up and devoured.
