“Secrets of the mansion are being revealed. And unfortunately, they’re far less pretty than the lies. Please, just consider it.”
Alora filled a flute with winnowillow juice next, glancing around for a shadow denser than all the rest. She didn’t find one. She did find more than one melancholic face, however. The employees of Opulence were steadily losing hold of their golden smiles. Even the patrons seemed to have lost a little of the luster in their eyes. Still, the gramophone sang on.
“I suppose I’ll just continue the tour on my own then,” she said to no one in particular.
Alora then strode down the corridor, her chin high, for all the world like she was meant to be there. She hummed along with the song.
Chapter Forty-Five
Noelnina Dynasti. That was her name. And Door Twenty-four was hers. Room of Ribbons.
Alora offered a smile to the employee who had turned the doorknob for her, which he returned, but wanly. She stepped into the dark.
It was an intriguing dark, not at all absolute, as the ceiling was covered in twinkling lights mimicking stars. And from it hung the room’s namesake: ribbons. Many of them, in rich blues and reds, coiled much like the staircase she’d taken to lead her here. Twisting among them, in a hugging suit of crimson and black, was Noelnina, the performer she’d encountered once but never met.
Her body moved decadently, mesmerizing everyone in the room. Members sat in plush seating or leaned against the wall, nearly all with flutes in their hands and enraptured looks upon their faces. Alora couldn’t blame them. It was an impressive display of talent.
One of the ribbons lifted all on its own. Drawn upward as though attracted to the performer, it snaked around Noelnina’s ankle. Alora noted the woman notice its ascent, thinking she’d grasp hold and swing. Instead, Alora’s eyes widened, as the performer pulled a whip from between her breasts and thwacked the ribbon smartly.
It dropped away, chastised.
And she saw then that this ribbon possessed odd little fangs. But no. Not only this ribbon. Alora moved along the wall, apologizing to those whose view she momentarily blocked, until she was sure she could say every ribbon in the Room of Ribbons was fanged.
Were they alive? Or enchanted artifacts?
Slitted, yellow eyes, there in the dark.Alive, then.
Had Bash collected these unique serpents? What corner of the world had he gone to find them? She’d never seen a snake with a body so flat it could be mistaken for a ribbon. Staring at Noelnina twisting about their lengths made her insides do the same.How awful.
Alora took note of the sconces on the walls, burning so low, they were nearly extinguished. Her jaw set as she burned them bright. At once, there were cries of protest around her, though none was as loud as Noelnina’s, who cried aloud as she lost her grip in her surprise. Before Alora could think of conjuring something to catch her, the performer caught herself at the last moment, the ribbon-snake’s fangs in line with her nose and hissing.
The woman touched her boots to the floor and swept the room with quick assessment. A disgruntled few abandoned the show soon after. “Nevermind, ladies and gentlemen,” the performer proclaimed. “It is all part of the entertainment. A new routine! Debuted tonight and only for your illustrious selves.”
This seemed to placate what remained of her audience, a look of intrigue appearing on more than one face. Alora could almost feel the relief emanating from Miss Dynasti. She wished that it could last.
But Alora had seen what transpired at the ceiling. At how the rafters crisscrossed, the ribbon-snakes’ tails tied in knots. It wasn’t Noelnina’s fault; she didn’t harvest these snakes from their home. Still, she couldn’t dance with them any longer either.
When Noelnina reached to pull upon the serpent’s body, it toppled on her head instead.
The performer’s cry was more akin to a shriek as the snake slithered on the floor, its eyes—and fangs—focused solely on her. Members startled to standing, some screaming and climbing on their chairs while others pushed for the door. One by one, the ribbons fell from the ceiling until the floor was a mix of red and blue and yellow eyes. Alora saw the employee who’d let her in for a single second before he fled.
She needed to work quickly.
“Miss Dynasti!”
Noelnina diverted her attention to Alora a moment before smacking a snake across the face with her whip. “What do you want?”
“Come out of there!”
The performer seemed torn, her lips parted, hesitation in every line of her dark features. This was her job, hercontract.
“Miss Dynasti, the snakes look bent on revenge. Please come!”
There was considerable truth to Alora’s words. Every snake—and there were alot—had turned upon the performer, raising their strange flat heads and baring their fangs. None paid the slightest mind to anyone else in the room.
With a pained expression, Noelnina abandoned where she stood, leaping over the blue body of a serpent to land before Alora. “Who are you? How do you know my name?”
“Alora Pennigrim. I was forced into a contract by Master Merridon to occupy Door Twenty-five, but I’ve burned it now. I’ll burn yours, too, if you’d like?”
