Ciaran would keep tabs on the viscount, ensuring that he was distracted and away from the fray, while I stole the Pentacle from its resting place at centre stage.
There were many moving parts, including the timing of the smoke bombs and spells. I had to steal the Pentacle and be clear of the stage first. I didn’t have much time. It wasn’t going to be easy, and I knew that they were putting a lot of trust in me. I couldn’t let them down. Especially after insisting that I be involved.
The masquerade ballwas an elaborate costume party, befitting the opulent wealth of the Opera Company and their patrons.The formal occasion signalled Scion’s desire to go back to a time where women would wear ball gowns and petticoats instead of the loose short dresses that were in fashion. For the men, it was a black-tie occasion, requiring full tuxedos. I couldn’t imagine Ciaran, Fionn or Rory in such attire. But if we were to blend in, our costumes had to suggest we had the kind of wealth that the patrons of the Lutesse City Opera flaunted. So Elena and I went to a seamstress to get appropriate costumes made, as there wasn’t going to be anything like that available at the fashionable boutiques Beneath Lutesse.
The seamstress, Maya, was a true artist. She made costumes for us that were so beautiful, and so elaborate, that I thought they might ruin our cover with their beauty. We were going to stand out, not blend in.
My dress was a full-length gown with voluminous skirts—nothing like the dresses I was used to wearing. It was deep crimson, fashioned from the finest silks. The skirts were accented with delicate gold stitching; the bodice was an old-fashioned laced corset that forced my breasts up indecently, showing off a delicate white ruffled lace edge that fell just off my shoulders. The mask I wore was the same crimson with delicate gold stitching. I wore my hair down, my natural waves spilling over my shoulders and skimming the top of my décolletage. Elena lent me a sinful red lip colour to go with the dress.
Ciaran’s costume matched mine. The expertly tailored jacket was the same crimson, with a human ribcage embroidered in gold stitching. It was gruesome but striking. The pants were red as well and continued with the golden bone-shaped pattern on his legs. He wore a black belt, white gloves and black boots. His mask, a worn bone colour, was shaped as the top half of a human skull. He looked like a walking homage to the catacombs where our city was hidden. The Crossroads of the Dead personified. He was imposing: his towering height, and his dark hair in sharpcontrast to the red. His black eyes burned through the holes in the skull mask.
Rory’s costume was an all black suit with a pointed bird mask. A crow. Fionn’s suit was black and white with brilliant blue accents. He was, I realized, a magpie.
Elena wore a simple but elegant black gown with tight-fitting full-length sleeves and a mask accented with elegant peacock feathers. She was breathtaking; so prim and proper with her runic tattoos completely hidden beneath the sleeves of her gown.
We madeour way through the passageway toward the Cistern. This time there were two little rafts waiting for us. The effect was eerie as we floated along with Ciaran in his skeleton mask, and the little fluttering féerie lights following us through the vast open space below the opera house.
We didn’t say a word as we travelled along the canals and up the spiraling Steps of Eternity. We reached the mirror, and Ciaran wrapped his left hand around my waist, pulling me tight to his side. He wreathed us in his shadow magic, extending it like a blanket over all five of us.
Carlotta’s dressing room was dark and unoccupied, but we remained in the cocoon of Ciaran’s shadows anyway. Everything was exactly the same. The vanity table, the round bulbs surrounding the vanity mirror, the wall of costumes in every shape and colour imaginable, all the same. But everything had changed. Where this had once been a place I was welcome—a place I belonged—now it felt dangerous. Forbidden. Something snagged in my memory as I noted a large bouquet of red roses on the vanity table. I didn’t know why. I’d think about it later. There was no time now.
We left the dressing room together, following the labyrinthine corridors to the main atrium. Here we nodded to each other, silently wishing each other good luck before separating.
The atrium of the opera house was opulent as always, the gilded accents and finishings glittering on the walls. The artwork splashed across the ceilings, the intricate tiled floors, all so familiar to me. The whole space had been decorated with crimson banners and ribbons; however, Scion’s solemn iconography had replaced the usual comedy and tragedy masks. That fist grasping those seven arrows. It was everywhere, staring down at us, daring us to make one wrong move. I had a strange feeling of unease. This place had been my home. I walked through this atrium every day for almost six years. But I was no longer welcome here. I was no longer safe here. Everything looked the same, but it felt so, so different, like putting on someone else’s shoes by accident—wrong.
I gulped as I took in the large Scion banners that hung down over the giant curved staircase leading up to the mezzanine level of the theatre. The stairs were crowded with mingling masked partygoers. I didn’t recognize anyone, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t anyone I knew in the crowd. It was hard to tell with everyone masked and in costumes. The bottom of the staircase had been cleared out to form a large dance floor. People were already twirling to the upbeat music of the live band playing near the left side of the atrium.
The people attending the masquerade had gotten as dressed up as we had, and I was thankful that Maya had been available to make our costumes. Many of the masks and costumes were themed—I saw plenty of foxes, and birds, horses and butterflies. Others wore intricately designed masks and matching dresses and suits. On the dance floor, couples twirled around in a sea of glittering jewels and feathers. I stayed off to the side, keepingan eye out for anyone I recognized. I had promised Ciaran that I wouldn’t talk to anyone, but I had to admit that I wanted to see Carlotta. I needed to see her. And I had secretly hoped to see Maren too. She had saved my life, after all. While I didn’t have any desire to put her in danger, I wanted to see her—to thank her again. I missed her.
But neither Maren or Carlotta were anywhere to be found on the dance floor. I didn’t see Seff or his father either as I circled the area. I reached the opposite side and took the door that led backstage. The hallway was dark; no one from the party was expected to be here. But I knew that these deserted areas could be occupied by those wanting respite from the party—or those wanting a moment of privacy—so I was wary and kept my eyes open.
I made my way toward the stage. I could have navigated these corridors with my eyes closed if I had to. I thought of the woman I had been the last time I walked these halls. She had been so conflicted. So confused. That Seraphina had been going through the motions of life, only doing what sheshouldhave done, never what she truly wanted. She really believed that the scraps she was receiving were enough. From Seff, from Carlotta, from Madame Giselle. I couldn’t imagine acting like that now. Not after all the time I had spent among the people Beneath Lutesse. The people who were trulyliving,not just existing. But as I entered the backstage area, I caught myself imagining that this stage wasmine.That I was the diva of the Lutesse City Opera—an old familiar fantasy.
Heavy crimson velvet curtains muffled the sound of my shoes clacking against the starburst patterned floor, my dress giving off a gentle swish as I stepped onto the stage—that sacred place where performers bared their souls. It was dark—the single ghost light washing the stage in a weak golden hue. I spied my quarry, the Pentacle, hidden in the floor.
How many times had I stood atop that very spot? How many times had I felt a thrill of something pulse through me as I walked over it, attributing it to the magic and mysterious nature of the performing arts themselves? Now I couldn’t believe that I had never noticed, the way it hummed with magic as I approached. The electricity prickling over my skin as I got closer and closer to this ancient fey artifact. There was no doubt in my mind now. Thiswasthe object we sought. It had been here all along. Right under Scion’s nose.
We hadn’t thought of a more elegant way of removing the Pentacle from its resting place on the stage. I had brought a small chisel with me, hidden within the voluminous skirts of my ballgown. I knelt down to attempt to pry it free, apologizing silently to the stage floor as I did. I had been so focused on the Pentacle that I hadn’t noticed the sound of someone approaching from behind me—the swish of skirts and clack of heels—until it was too late.
MASQUERADE
Carlotta approached slowly, not bothering to muffle her steps. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I noticed her. She wore a glittering black ball gown and a feathered black raven’s mask; she was not shocked to see me.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Carlotta demanded, hands on her hips. Her voice was cold—a voice I had heard her use many times, though never before directed at me. I had thought myself immune to that harshness.
She hadn’t seen my face. Perhaps she didn’t know who I was with the mask. That was probably a false hope—I had little trouble recognizing her.
“Don’t play stupid, Seraphina, I know it’s you.” Oh yes. False hope. How could I have been so idiotic—to think these masks would be an adequate disguise.
“How did you know it was me?” I continued to play stupid. Or maybe I justwasstupid.
“Please. I’m not an idiot, I knew it was you as soon as you walked into the masquerade. You’re not as inconspicuous as you think you are. The question is, what the fuck do you think you’re doing here? And where the fuck have you been?” Carlotta spat, her voice a venomous hiss.
“I— I… Carlotta, I’m really happy to see you.” I took a step toward my friend, hoping against all odds, that she would believe me when I told her it hadn’t been me who caused the disaster.
“Stay back, witch.” Carlotta took a step back as she spat the hateful words at me. It was shocking to hear from her. As far as I knew, she had never bought into thewitchcrafthyperbole that was constantly being spouted by Scion. What had happened in the time since I’d left?
Tears prickled in my eyes and I looked up to try to suck them back in. They caught on the newly repaired chandelier. It was as if nothing had occurred. There wasn’t a bulb out of place.
