Page 62

“We should take a turn,” Andromeda said, tapping her slipper to the music.

“I don’t know.” Fia glanced at all these people, the smiles they wore, the ease of their conversation, the laughter bubbling from their mouths. Any grouping of three started her heart pounding, because they might have been the thieves. “That’s not why we’re here. We ought to stick to the plan.”

Andromeda moaned. “I can’t believe you’re making me say it, but Penbrook’s right.”

“I’ll never tire of hearing those words,” he preened. “In fact, feel free to say them again.”

Completely ignoring him once again, Andromeda continued, “As he said, we need to blend in before the two of you go off snooping.”

Fia didn’t think Andromeda could blend in anywhere, and especially not tonight in the gorgeous midnight-dark gown she’d chosen. Everyone who passed her took a second glance, and when they looked away, Fia realized they usually went off softly smiling. And now, likely unused to someone denying her, Andromeda tugged Fia down the steps and to the edge of the pale grass.

“What do you say? Don’t make me dance by myself.”

“You wouldn’t be alone for long.”

“I know,” Andromeda said shamelessly. “But I’d rather dance with a friend.”

Maybe Fia hadn’t known Andromeda long, or Penbrook for that much longer, but she’d liked them quickly—though not immediately in Penbrook’s case—and the way they’d filled out her small world. Of course, she had Grace, and by extension Montrose, and these new friendships wouldn’t take away from the old. But they allowed her to crack open her guarded heart, because no matter how much it meant to her, there was so much more to life than running her beloved shop.

Or chasing down her mother’s spellbook, which she’d probably never find.

There was dancing.

And so Fia let herself be drawn into the crowd as it parted seamlessly for them. She cast one last look at Penbrook still standing on the terrace, and then the music carried her and Andromeda along. Hands clasped, they danced in rings, their cheeks pinking, their movement warding off the chill of the night.

Andromeda twirled with such abandon—like her body was never meant to rest—and Fia did her best to follow each lively step. She might have looked silly, but lost in the gathering, she hardly cared. They’d stolen this bit of fun from what would otherwise be a daunting night, and she intended to enjoy the moment as freely as Andromeda did.

As they passed closer to one of the willows encircling the garden, its boughs started swaying. Started reaching. Quick as could be, a thin, silky branch slipped low to the ground and slithered beneath Fia’s gown. With a small yelp, she lifted the hem just as the tendril curled around her slipper, plucking it from her foot. “My shoe!”

“No shoes allowed!” a sunset-haired girl cried over her shoulder, her laughter ringing like a bell as she frolicked.

“But…,” Fia objected, torn by the startling playfulness of the trees and the wonder of magic.

Another twiggy branch grasped Fia’s second slipper and pulled it from her heel, lifting it out of reach and out of sight in the canopy above, where dozens of other stolen shoes must have been dangling.

Delighted, Andromeda kicked her slippers from her feet, letting the crawling branches snatch them up. “Who needs them?” she said, barely missing a step in their dance.

They circled again, the soft grass tickling Fia’s bare feet, the music humming up through her soles. She couldn’t help laughing, just for the joy of it.

Though it only lasted for a few songs.

Among all the twirling bodies, a serious face suddenly flicked in and out of view. Dark hair, smoke-gray eyes, and a blade-straight mouth. Fia gripped Andromeda’s hands more tightly.

“Sebastian Smith.”

Stiffly, he turned a girl through the grass, looking more like a marionette than a boy, playing a part he seemed to have no interest in.

Fia had never expected to avoid him entirely at his own party, but seeing him again filled her with dread now that she knew he’d had a part in stealing The Book of Ribs. His seriousness, even in the midst of this beautiful ball, seemed all the more ominous. Made her wonder if there might be anything else dangling in the trees above them. If those same branches that had taken her shoes might twist around her ankles and wrists, drawing her up into the foliage.

“Where is he?” Andromeda asked, sensing Fia’s distress.

“There.”

Andromeda craned her neck on the next rotation, looking in the direction Fia subtly gestured. By the narrowing of her eyes, it was clear the moment Andromeda spotted him. “What a grouch.”

“He’s dangerous.”

“A dangerous grouch, then.” Andromeda reclaimed her hands. “I’m going to dance with him.”