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I sidle closer to a cluster of figures gabbing between sips of wine. All I hear them exchanging are judgments of the outfits of those outside their group.
Farther along, I catch one male student making a remark about a dagger to his friends. When I linger, it turns out he’s describing an ornamental piece his father is having made for his birthday, encrusted with gems.
Gold and jewels gleam everywhere—along belts, around necks, on fingers. In my hair.
So much wealth in one room, it could see every family on the fringes raised out of squalor for a year or better.
And I’m here marinating in it rather than bringing the people I consideredmyfamily their dues.
I let myself wander out of the crowd at the other end of the room and take a moment to rest my hand against the wall and close my eyes. The lights seem to keep swaying through my eyelids.
I’m here for those people. Here to make sure they don’t get burned up in retribution for crimes they could barely conceive of. That’s more important than leaving a few coins on a windowsill.
But in that moment, I can’t help feeling I’m getting nowhere at all.
When I open my eyes again, I notice Alek standing several feet away, also hanging back by the wall. It’s easy enough to recognize him when he’s stuck with his usual leather mask, which gleams softly beneath the chandeliers.
His stance is uneasy, like he doesn’t feel he fits in here any more than I do. But if I hadn’t already thought there was plenty striking about his penetrating eyes, his dark hair, and those full lips, seeing him in ball getup would have shocked the realization into me. He’s either got some fashion sense or a friend who does, because the crimson jacket sets off his bronze skin to impressive effect.
Hopefully I’m not ogling himtooopenly, because in the middle of my assessment, he glances over at me. He draws himself up a little straighter, his jaw working.
I’m about to smile, because it feels like I should acknowledge him somehow, but then he’s striding off around the room in the opposite direction.
Two out of two turning their back on me so far. I’m obviously making a fabulous impression.
The music dips as one melody blends into a more languid one. My gaze snags on Casimir’s tawny hair in the mass of dancers, just stepping away from a woman I don’t recognize whose ebony ringlets are gathered in a sphere of curls on her head.
My stomach wobbles, but not in a good way.
I jerk my attention to the side and start to slink back into the crowd on a course that won’t take me toward him. But I’ve made it less than ten paces when a steady but gentle hand closes around my elbow.
“There you are. Oh, that gown did turn out impressively, didn’t it?”
I spin toward the courtesan, who’s grinning at me from behind a silver mask dotted with sapphires much like the gems standing in for some of his back teeth.
You’d think the lesser metal would make him look shabby compared to all his classmates sporting gold. But with the midnight-blue of his suit and the silvery sheen to his dress shirt beneath, he looks like he could be a godlen of the night sky rather than any kind of mortal.
My pulse stutters, and I lose track of my voice. “I— Thank you. For the dress. And the hair pin. I told you—”
“I know what you told me.” Casimir touches my chin with just enough pressure to tilt it slightly upward, but the contact sends a flush straight down my chest. “And you’ve elevated the gown beyond what it was on its own. You’re stunning, Ivy.”
It’s literally his job to make people happy, so I doubt he entirely means that. But it makes my heart skip another beat anyway.
“Aren’t we supposed to be pretending we barely know each other?” I can’t help asking.
He makes a dismissive sound. “We’re incognito. Besides, I’m simply a schoolmate struck by an incredible beauty wandering by.”
His smile widens, and the hand on my arm slides down to twine his fingers with mine. “You’re not going to deny me the chance to fully appreciate our handiwork, are you? One dance won’t hurt anyone.”
It’s hard to argue with his warmly cajoling tone. And his “our” melts something inside me, even though I know he and Esmae deserve the lion’s share of the credit for however good I do look.
“I didn’t realize it came with additional conditions,” I say tartly as I let him set his other hand on my waist.
Casimir chuckles. “You’re allowed to say no. But you could think of it as part of your cover. It’ll look odd if you come to a ball and never dance.”
He does have a point.
I set my hand awkwardly on the lapel of his jacket. “I don’t know any of these dances, so trying might actually be worse.”
