Page 34 of Too Hexed to Handle

Ornate lanterns are strung over our heads, while more candles are dotted over every available surface. A brazier of fire near the buffet table bathes the faces of those nearby in an orange glow. On the far side, men and women wearing elaborate wigs and glittering green leotards hang from ropes draped across one of the castle’s walls, contorting into what I think are strange positions until I realise they’re spelling out Damian with their bodies.

The man himself is moving through the crowd. He’s swapped his blue cloak for a green one made of velvet, while a small, thin-rimmed crown sits low on his forehead. People stop to stare as he passes, but none are really looking at him. Their gazes pass over his face and fix on his gloves, their expressions a combination of hunger and fear.

I know what it’s like to not be truly seen. Whenever I visit the apothecary, my parents are so busy waiting for signs of the extraordinary or dangerous, I sometimes think they forget I’m a person. My chest tightens as Damian removes himself from the throng, heading to a plush chair waiting for him behind a cordoned-off area, where he can watch us from afar. An outsider at his own party.

Astin touches my arm. ‘You okay?’

‘Of course,’ I lie. ‘Isn’t this party wonderful?’

‘Not really. Opulence in excess is kind of tacky.’

I have never known someone so impossible to please.

‘Come on.’ Astin tugs me towards the buffet table. ‘Once we have our instructions, we’re leaving.’

‘Mm-hm.’ Wanting a distraction from feeling sorry for Damian in the corner, I sneak a bite of a cake covered in green icing, and the taste of apple explodes on my tongue. The moan I let out is, admittedly, loud and somewhat startling to my own ears, but that doesn’t explain the way Astin stiffens and moves five paces to the left as though he wants to pretend he’s never met me. Well, fine. If he wants to ignore me, I’ll stand here and eat dessert all night.

I’m about to take another cake when I spy two women reach for the same pastry at the far end of the table. Their fingers meet, and they both bounce like they’ve been touched by lightning. The pie falls on to the plate in a cloud of crumbs. They stare at each other. Their chests stop moving, like seeing the other person has sucked the air from their lungs.

And then the taller of the two walks away.

This will never do. My feet are moving before I can think of a plan, but if worse comes to worst I’ll shove them on the dance floor and suggest the musicians play something that requires proximity.

They disappear into the crowd before I get a chance, and suddenly I’m surrounded by smiling faces and gleaming eyes, of loud laughter and joy, and another pang of longing reverberates through me, longer than any sorrowful note from a violin. When it comes to romance, I’m always the puppeteer, but I’m never part of the show.

Worse, I’ve lost my puppets. I’m about to change direction, to see if my quarry have reunited near the drinks table, when a hand wraps around my wrist and yanks me back.

‘Hey!’ I protest as I’m spun round, my nose slamming into a broad chest that’s all too familiar. I glare at Astin. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Stopping you wandering off and getting distracted.’

‘I’m not getting distracted,’ I protest.

‘Please. I know that look.’

‘What look? I don’t have a look.’ I absolutely have a look. The quirk in his brow tells me I won’t be successful in denying it, so I settle for suggesting, before I can think better of it, ‘If you wanted to stop me wandering off, you could ask me to dance.’

He drops my wrist. ‘I told you. I don’t dance.’

‘Don’t or won’t?’ I fold my arms. My vision blurs. I’ll never wear a dress this lovely again, and it would be nice to experience the event in full. To pretend I’m the kind of person that belongs on dance floors, just for a night.

I catch sight of Damian, still alone, drinking deeply from a goblet, and my yearning flares into annoyance. There is nothing stopping Astin from dancing other than his own pig-headedness.

‘You should, you know,’ I say. ‘Even if it’s not with me. You have no idea how lucky you are that –’

Astin snorts. ‘You and I have different ideas of luck.’

‘And you and I have different ideas of how to have fun at a party, because if you think I’m spending my night loitering by the food . . .’ I hitch up my dress to aid my getaway. ‘You are sorely mistaken.’

This time, when I storm off, he doesn’t stop me, although he does call my name with a considerable bite of frustration in his tone. I have no intention of dancing with anyone other than him, but the music draws me closer to the floor anyway, my heart squeezing into a fist.

‘Hello, again.’ Nuri sidles up to me, with no Cale in sight. Maybe sorting them out can be my good deed of the evening. Although she’s wearing the same dress as me, she’s paired it with a faded cardigan that doesn’t match the ensemble whatsoever. I catch a glimpse of what looks like a gold bracelet, so tight it’s almost inked into her skin, as she fidgets with the sleeves. ‘The Emerald King didn’t throw you out for being a Soulstopper?’

‘I already told you, I’m not a Souleater.’ I fire a glare in her direction. ‘Was it really necessary for you to tell him what happened?’

‘He asked a lot of questions, don’t you think? And yet he wouldn’t answer a single one.’

I stare at her, in case she would like to recognise her own hypocrisy, but rather than defend herself for throwing me under the cart, she loops her arm through mine and walks me through the crowd, weaving us between a throng of partygoers who appear to be measuring who has the biggest stick. It’s unclear what they intend to use said stick for, but they’re all adamant that when it comes to a dangerous mission, the bigger the better.