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“Helly, please,” Kerrigan cried.
“You are confined to the mountain for the remainder of the tournament,” she snapped. “Both of you.”
Fordham stiffened, clenching his jaw.
“What? But I’m supposed to find a patron…” Kerrigan said.
“You should have considered the consequences to your actions,” Helly said coldly. “After all the deaths last tournament, I should report you both to the council. Consider this a warning. If I discover you plotting again, I will have to follow through with that.”
“Helly—”
“Do you understand?” Helly snapped over Kerrigan’s protest.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Fordham brusquely nodded his head.
“Then go. You both look like you haven’t slept in weeks. I don’t want to hear anything else out of you.”
Kerrigan didn’t see another choice. She swallowed, holding back her mounting anger, and stormed from the room. Fordham was hot on her heels as they left Helly behind. She didn’t dare look back. Not once.
“What do we do now?” Fordham asked. “We can’t just let this stand.”
“No, we can’t,” she agreed. She rubbed her temples. “I have an idea.”
“Is this going to get me expelled from the tournament?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “You no longer have to be a part of this.”
He reached out and dragged her to a stop. “I’m a part of this. We’re in this together. What do we do?”
“Do you still have that party invitation? The one that I picked up the other day?”
“I believe so. Why?”
“I have an idea on how we can draw Basem out.”
“With a party?”
“Yes.”
“And how will we get out when Helly just confined us both to the mountain?”
Kerrigan’s lips lifted at the edges. “I’ve lived here my entire life. You think I only know one way in or out?”
39
The Party
Curly hair sleeked and pinned to perfection, Kerrigan stood resplendent in a Parris original gown, red velvet that fell to her feet with a fitted bodice and dainty off-the-shoulder sleeves. Her bright red hair had been dyed a temporary chestnut brown, and her features were obscured by a small black mask. Only her emerald-green eyes and cherry-red lips were visible against her pale skin.
“Why do I feel like this is a bad idea?” Hadrian asked from her side as they stepped up to her father’s home on the Row.
“Because danger goes against your nature.”
“Yes, yes, it does.”
“Don’t worry so much. I don’t look like me,” Kerrigan reminded him. “And no one will recognize Fordham. He’s wearing a powder-blue suit to match the swirling colors of the Row. Not a single person expects the prince of the House of Shadows to be in powder blue.”
Even she had barely recognized him. Though it hadn’t stopped her heart from fluttering at the sight of him in something that showed off his broad shoulders and tapered waist. The way the mask concealed all but his perfect, pouty lips.
“But somehow, you are still recognizable,” Hadrian grumbled.
Kerrigan laughed and tugged him closer. “Just hand over the invitation when we get there.”
Hadrian straightened and cleared his throat as they approached the front of the considerable line to enter Lord Kivrin Argon’s residence. Hadrian himself was in a soft mint jacket with dark trousers. She knew that his patron, Fallon, had impeccable taste in clothing.
The first thing to do had been clueing everyone else in on what was happening. It was much easier to get Hadrian, Darby, and Clover into the mountain than getting Kerrigan and Fordham out. But once she had them on board, the plan was in motion. Clover staked out Basem’s residence and tracked his moves to get a sense of what he did during the day. Then, Darby used her connections to secure a second invitation to the party, which Hadrian delivered to Basem.
Fordham didn’t think it was going to work. but he didn’t understand the idea of someone starting from the bottom and working their way up. If Kerrigan knew anything about wanting to belong, it was that no one who so desperately wanted to fit in would turn down an invitation to the Row. And just to be certain, Clover had found Basem at an off the Row tailor, securing a new evening suit. Checkmate.
He’d be here. Then, they’d just need to enact phase two of the plan.
They finally reached the front of the line, and Hadrian handed over his invitation. Kerrigan stepped inside with Hadrian and allowed Fordham, Clover, and Darby to extend their own invitation to enter.
Her stomach was in her throat as she stared around at her father’s home. She spent most of her life trying to avoid the man who had thrown her out. This went against all her own ideals.
“Breathe,” Hadrian whispered. “You don’t have to see or speak to him.”
Kerrigan nodded, swallowing down the rising bile. Hadrian knew, of course. That part of this plan hinged on her being able to keep it together if she ran into her father. She straightened her spine and adjusted her face mask. She could do this.
