Elliott takes my hand and leads me toward the ring of glowing mushrooms. The moment I step inside the circle, the world changes.
The music becomes something I can feel in my bones, a rhythm that matches the pulsing of the lights and the beating of my heart. Elliott moves with surprising grace for someone his age, spinning me through patterns that seem to write themselves in the air. Other dancers swirl around us—the raven woman, the bark man, figures in costumes so detailed I can’t tell what they’re supposed to represent.
The lights grow brighter, the music more intense, and there’s something shifting in the air around us. The boundary between performance and reality begins to blur, and for a few moments, I almost believe we really are dancing with creatures from another world.
Then Elliott spins me one final time and releases my hand, bowing low as the music shifts to something softer.
“Thank you for the dance, dear one,” he says, his painted face glowing in the mushroom light. “The Witchwood approves of you.”
As I make my way back to Blue, weaving between dancers and glowing fungi, I catch sight of something that makes me stop cold.
Ash Cupp stands at the edge of the clearing, and he’s not in costume. He’s wearing his usual cream linen shirt and dark pants,completely out of place among the theatrical disguises surrounding him. But it’s the look on his face that worries me—tense, alert, scanning the crowd with the focus of someone expecting trouble.
When he spots me looking, he makes his way over, moving through the costumed dancers with ease.
“Saylor,” he says when he reaches me. “I need you to find Blue. Now.”
“What’s wrong?”
“They’re coming. The Crow. At least six of them, maybe more.” His gray eyes are hard, calculating. “My sources say they’ll hit during the celebration when everyone’s distracted. They know Blue will be here.”
My blood turns cold. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” Ash glances around the celebration, and I see him catalog potential like someone who’s done this before. “I need to find him.”
I scan the crowd, looking for the distinctive plague doctor mask. The clearing is packed with costumed dancers, all moving and swaying to the hypnotic music. For a moment, I can’t find him anywhere.
Then I see the black leather coat near the far edge of the circle, and my stomach drops instead.
“There,” I point. “By the musicians’ platform.”
Blue stands near the edge of the clearing, but his plague doctor mask hangs loose in his hand instead of covering his face. He’s deep in conversation with a woman whose gown seems to flicker between blue and silver in the mushroom light. She’s standing too close to him, one hand pressed to his chest, speaking urgently with obvious distress.
When she turns slightly, I get a clear view of her face and my stomach drops. I can see tears streaming down her cheeks, but more importantly, I know that face. I’ve seen it every day since I’ve been living at Maison Rouge.
She’s one of the women from the portraits in the main hall.
“What the hell?” I breathe.
Ash follows my gaze and his entire face hardens. “That’s impossible.”
“Who is she?”
“That’s Cordelia Lynd.” Ash’s voice is tight with something between confusion and alarm. “She’s supposed to be dead.”
The woman—Cordelia—grips Blue’s coat with both hands now, speaking urgently. Blue’s posture is tense, his free hand raised as if trying to calm her down, but I can see the way his body angles away from her. Whatever she’s saying has him upset.
I can’t stop staring at the woman. At Cordelia. At whatever the hell she’s supposed to be.
“Come on,” Ash says, starting toward them. “We need to warn him about the Crow.”
We push through the costumed dancers, weaving between a woman in a dress made of peacock feathers and a man wearing an intricate clockwork mask with moving gears. The music continues its hypnotic rhythm, but all I can focus on is the scene unfolding ahead of us.
When we finally reach Blue, he looks up at our approach but doesn’t step away from the woman. He appears carefully calm, giving nothing away.
“Blue,” Ash says without preamble. “We have a problem. The Crow are coming. Tonight. They’ll hit during the celebration when everyone’s distracted.”
Blue’s jaw tightens, but he just nods. “How long?”
