“Of the birthday girl, speak only kind things, or say nothing at all.” Cecily nodded with a sharp smile, her gilded, almost white hair sitting like a crown on the top of her head.
“Are we ready for the last touches?” Myra strode to the dressing table, her grin chillingly reminiscent of her brother’s.
Cecily clapped her hands as Myra lifted our masks, but her excitement soon faded into uncertainty. “They hide most of our makeup,” she pouted in disappointment as we stood in front of the mirror, the masks fixed in place, hiding everything except our lips and eyes.
She was right, but the masks were makeup of their own.
Cecily’s shimmered with an intricate pattern of overlapping silver scales, delicate like lace and as cold as deep-sea secrets. It clung to her face like a second skin, catching the light with a haunting, otherworldly gleam. Myra’s was veined with fine lines that echoed the translucent wings of a fairy etched in shades of moss and pale rose-gold. It seemed almost alive, as if one breath might send it fluttering back into the trees.
Mine was dark like coal, a flourish of glossy feathers and onyx beading, fanning out like wings caught mid-beat. Its design gripped tight around the eyes, as if daring anyone to look too long and risk being bitten. It fit perfectly.
“They’re called masks for a reason,” I murmured, enjoying the anonymity they offered. There was something oddly freeing in pretending no one could see who you really were.
Myra elbowed her sister on the side. “They don’t cover our lips,” she repeated what her sister already said but with a much more delighted tone.
The smile returned to Cecily’s face, a chuckle leaving her mouth. “So romantic,” she beamed and I too felt something warm move in my chest, like an excited wing flap.
But as I turned from the mirror, leaving my shadowed reflection behind, the soft thud of my boots on the rug brought the weight back into my chest.
The ball. The opening dance. The hundreds of eyes.
Suddenly, it felt like I couldn’t breathe again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
ELODIE
Icould already hear the music swirling through the manor’s halls as we made our way down to the ground floor. So far everything looked the same as always. I glared around the hallway warily, looking for shadows that hunched weird, but saw none. I exhaled, just as Myra looped her arm into mine.
“Oh, I can’t wait to see it all,” she said, her tone full of anticipation.
If I didn’t think of the dance, and the suffocating crowd, I found myself excited as well. We reached the staircase and Cecily gasped audibly. My breath hitched, too, at the sight.
Since I was last in the hall, the staff had been replaced by people wearing fancy gowns, suits, and costumes. There were fairies—women and men with branches on their heads like deers—and other, scarier creatures. As for one mask, I was pretty sure I saw a girl dressed as the drowned Ophelia.
We descended the stairs toward the grand hall, passing a girl in a sparkling orange dress doing a handstand on the railing of a balcony, while juggling flaming balls on her feet.
“God, won’t she fall?” Myra asked, and Cecily shook her head from her sister’s other side, watching the performer with amazement.
“They are the best of the best.”
“At least hopefully,” I added. “Otherwise, she might just stay here to haunt us.”
Myra’s eyebrows arched in surprise and Cecily let out a loud laugh.
I forced a smile. They didn’t need to know I was only half-joking.
The closer we got to the ballroom, the more performers we came across. There was a woman with at least a hundred crimson butterflies covering her body flew around above our heads, hanging on something invisible to my eyes. And a boy who was swallowing knife after knife with unsettling ease, greeting everyone who passed him with a big grin on his face.
An uncomfortable shiver rushed over my body at the sight. Where did all those knives go?
“Elodie.” Lilian’s voice cut through the hall, right before she appeared in front of me out of thin air. The crowd parted for her, which meant they clearly knew her. Her dark, seamless dress wrapped around her body like bubblegum, purple feathers hugging her shoulders. Her eyes looked me over from head to toe, taking in the gown and the mask. The latter, she didn’t have.
“Perfect.” Her thin lips pulled into a smile full of pride. “Come, let me introduce you around.” With that she strode ahead, the crowd dividing her way.
The twins and I followed, even when I could feel my legs trying to move me in the opposite direction. Two men wearing matching velvet vests and red masks resembling plague doctors stood on both sides of the double-winged door. They smiled at us as we passed them, the sight sending an uneasy shiver over my body.
But then we stepped inside, and the moment faded to the back of my mind. I’ve never seen anything like this. It was as if we had stepped into another world, one made of ancient fairytales and nightmares. Not even the decorations at the Devil’s Purse came close to what Declan had created here.
