Page 94 of Bloodgrove

Bloodgrove felt surreal. After hours in the sleigh through endless white, accompanied only by the ringing of bells and the crunch of snow, the city struck like a slap to the face. Loud and dark, even with snowdrifts gathered against the houses, everything lay beneath a film of soot. The streets were gray tracks of horse manure and mud.

Will realized how accustomed he had become over the past months to the pointed gables and threatening facades, and shuddered again at the hostility of the architecture. But none of it could penetrate the lingering shock of what he had learned. Only a few months remained until his birthday, and the second heartbeat in his chest, once so familiar, had become a ticking time bomb. Yet his stupid, stupid mind did nothing but replay Eric’s kiss and his cold rejection in an endless loop.

The grand townhouse hummed with preparations for the wedding. Additional cooks arrived, and although the kitchen was tucked at the far end of the house, the smell of cooking drifted all the way up to the roof and drove out the mustiness. Gifts piled up at the end of the dining table, and Elodie read the accompanying cards over breakfast. During the day, nobles came and went, trying to hide the curiosity with which they examined Elodie’s plans.

The doors to the ballroom stood open, revealing the vast emptiness beyond. The same question was written plainly across every guest’s face: how in all the gods’ names was the room supposed to be finished in time?

Will watched them with a dark expression and stopped answering their questions.

A WEDDING UNDER THE FULL MOON?

Rumors are spreading that Duke Wilkinson and Duchess Ormonde intend to marry during the New Year’s full moon.

The office of the Red Hand has yet to issue a statement.

Smiling, Elodie turned the newspaper over. “They write as though it were a secret. As if everyone were not already talking about it.” She clicked her tongue.

Will grunted and prodded at his soft-boiled egg.

WHO IS WILLIAM FRANK?

The white angel of interior design arrived from the Capitol to transform House Ormonde with his magic. Despite considerable demand, he has yet to accept another commission.

Today in our interview (see page 19).

His fingers brushed over the drawing printed beside the article and a photograph of him. Elodie had chosen it to stir curiosity.

Chaotic as the weeks before the wedding were, and although Will secretly clipped every article about himself or the townhouse and tucked them into his notebook, he could barely enjoy any of it. Instead of filling the pages with final sketches for the ballroom, he covered them with everything he could find about the powers of the Red Hand. About captive gods and the bargains they offered mortals.

Meanwhile, Elodie exchanged her scandalous, low-cut dresses for traditional modesty, buttoned high beneath her chin. Wilkinson stood beside her at every engagement, his hand resting heavily at the nape of her neck.

The days leading up to the New Year’s ball should have been Elodie’s triumph. Will found her name in the papers every day, and he could not so much as go shopping without merchants and customers asking him about the wedding.

Was it true that Duchess Ormonde intended to defy the Red Hand and hold her wedding during the full-moon ball?

How was the ballroom supposed to be finished in time? I heard only materials had been delivered so far. Not a single stonemason had received a commission.

It felt like the Capitol all over again, after he had received the commission from the queen’s cousin. With one difference: here, everyone shivered with excitement at the thought of Will’s magic.

All the while, he kept looking for Eric and even considered calling at his house, but decided against it. The ambassador did not want to see him, and Will had to accept that, no matter how deeply the rejection cut.

THE MAGICAL BALLROOM!

In addition to Duchess Ormonde’s risky plan to hold her wedding during a full-moon ball, witnesses have come forward claiming to have seen the magical abilities of her architect, William Frank. He is expected to display his genius during the wedding.

Often, Will sat in the ballroom at night, turning a siren scale between his fingers as he looked over the ruined hall. Moonlight whispered words to him in a language long forgotten, and magic sang in his chest. But he only stroked his arm, as though he might still feel the glyphs carved into his bones beneath the skin.

Months. He had months until he belonged to the Albatross. What a cruel bargain. And though he waited for the god, the night remained silent.

TRADE BLOCKADE THREATENS FOOD SHORTAGES!

Since the solstice, no ship has entered or left Bloodgrove’s harbor. The Senate has called an emergency session. Until the issue is resolved, certain goods will be rationed—there is no cause for alarm.

Duke Wilkinson grew more unpredictable. One day after the article appeared, a single ship reached the harbor. But instead of celebrating, Elodie was pale and trembling the following morning. Beige bandages flashed beneath the sleeves of her dress.

Will could barely stand to be in the same room as the man anymore. How long before a red drop appeared beside Elodie’s name on the family tree as well, announcing her end?

WAR WITH THE RED HAND!