Page 29 of Bloodgrove

Elodie’s fingers moved over her painted shoulders, the red so rich and deep that Will could not begin to guess how she had achieved it. “You inspired the dress…”

Will lowered his cool gaze to her. “Is that why my replacement suit is not finished? Because your dress required last-minute alterations and kept your tailor occupied?”

She clicked her tongue and folded her arms across her chest, a gesture entirely at odds with her otherworldly appearance. “You don’t want an apology.”

“Not before the ball. Not until I know whether you are truly on my side.”

“No one is on your side. No one is on mine. We all fight alone here.” Elodie raised her pointed chin and turned away. He knew that some part of her wanted them to reconcile, but he also knew he was only a pawn on her chessboard.

Something struck the carriage without warning. The coach lurched, and Will clutched at the seat cushions while Elodie remained unmoved. Something scrambled across the roof above them, claws scraping and a hiss seeping through the walls. Then came a gunshot. A shadow tumbled from the carriage, and they raced on at a breakneck pace as though nothing had happened.

“I have a solution for the ballroom,” Will said at last, willing to take one step toward her. He needed to turn his thoughts away from the monsters surrounding them. “We break through into the floor above. The structure can support it—I did the calculations. And we make the floor marble so that it can be cleaned after a ritual.”

The duchess’s eyebrows shot up, and the gleam returned to her eyes, strange as it looked in her scarlet face. “That is daring.”

“And we have very little time.”

“Nothing a little magic couldn’t solve.”

Will sighed. “That is what I was afraid of.”

Chapter 16

To Will’s surprise, they left the city behind, and the road began to wind along the coast. As soon as the noise outside subsided, he drew back the curtains and peered out. Barren hills rose on one side, while waves crashed against the rocks on the other. Up ahead, the Red Hand’s gigantic mansion loomed—on an outcrop of rock in the violent surf before the cliffs, far too large and sinister. Even the lights shining far out across the sea could not drive away the darkness clinging to the place.

They were among the last to cross the bridge shortly before eleven. Servants with the same ghostly stare as the train conductor received them and escorted them up the broad staircase toward the yawning entrance. The duchess had taken Will’s arm again, and he had decided to preserve the appearance of peace in public. Nervously, he glanced over his shoulder at the collection of carriages in the torchlight, then toward the gate and the bridge beyond—their only means of escape. But he would not run.

Elodie squeezed his arm gently. “Will, stay with me. Do not leave the main halls, and drink only clear liquids. Forget everything you see. I am sorry.”

She probably meant it. Yet Will’s expression turned cold, and at last he looked away, schooling his face into a distant mask. She was not apologizing for what she had done, but for what was still to come, and he hated being at the mercy of this twisted game. The only thing that drove him across the threshold—and this was the part that truly damned him—was his ambition. He refused to abandon his career. He wanted to redeem his reputation through glory, and for that, he was prepared to face every new trial.

The mansion received them like the jaws of a colossal dragon. Hot, humid air embraced them, heavy with candle soot, breath, sweating bodies, and the rich perfume of night-blooming flowers—nothing like what Will had expected from an old house perched on a cliff. His gaze swept through the entrance hall, dominated by an immense staircase draped in red and lined with hundreds of candles. In the lantern light, the raw, heavily veined stone took on the appearance of flesh, while the ribbed vaulting became bone.

They climbed one step at a time, passing small groups who stared openly at them. Pale faces followed their progress—blue, brown, and silver eyes watched from shadowed brows, while painted lips twisted into grimaces.

“During the mourning period for my father, I was permitted to remain at home for a year,” Elodie explained.

“I do not believe that is why they are staring,” Will whispered. He leaned down toward her conspiratorially, and the murmuring around them intensified.

Someone hurried ahead.

By the time they reached the ballroom, hungry eyes were already waiting for them. Even the couples spinning across the dance floor craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the new arrivals. Elodie’s steps slowed, though she never fully stopped, almost as though she didn’t notice the attention at all.

They had made it no more than a few steps into the main hall when the first guests descended on them, greeting Elodie enthusiastically. Will recognized some of the faces from the soirée. They smiled and offered him their hands as though nothing had happened.

“Ever since you visited us, I can’t overlook the inadequacies of my house,” Lady Katelyn said, slipping her arm through his. “As soon as you are finished with Elodie, you must join us for tea and see whether the place still has any potential. It could use a little attention…”

From the way she smiled and looked up at him through fluttering lashes, he could not tell whether she was flirting. The entire situation was too bizarre for Will to engage fully with the conversation. He could still taste the pig’s blood on his tongue and feel it dripping from his chin.

Before he could pull away, his gaze caught on Elodie. Today she was covered in red, wearing his humiliation for him. Though he had not yet forgiven her, he had to admit that she had opened a door for him.

So he made conversation. Smiled. Flirted. He accepted compliments and offered them in return. He spoke of the Capitol and described his education. He laid his hand conspiratorially over that of the lady beside him, lowered his voice, and let his gaze linger. He wrapped himself in a mystery they all wanted to unravel. Who was the man for whom Duchess Ormonde had exposed herself so publicly?

Yet the whole time, his eyes wandered across the crowd, unconsciously searching for a face that was still missing. Only then did he truly notice where they were standing, and for a moment, he forgot everything else. The vast vaults of the ballroom were not illuminated by the chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, which rose high and distant, lost in shadows and soot. Instead, enormous candelabras nearly the size of a grown man stood along the dance floor, their gold-red light shining hazily through the thick air. It was not enough to banish the night entirely. Darkness was another guest, dancing between the spinning couples.

What a strange place. He heard skirts whispering over the marble floor and the murmur of secret conversations, yet he felt the music inside his heart. It was foreign and hypnotic, its rhythm slightly faster than his pulse.

A little apart from the others, he spotted Saint behind one of the candelabras, forming shadow animals against the wall with his hands despite having no audience. For a moment, Will considered greeting him, but stopped himself. In the Capitol he had learned that being seen with certain eccentric personalities—particularly before one had established a name—could prove damning. For now, he had to remain untouchable if he meant to help Elodie.