Upuntil the very last minute, Artemis had wavered in her intention to attend Sir Abstrupus’s fancy-dress ball.
But three factors had eventually tipped her in favor.
One, as frivolous as it was, she loved a fancy-dress ball. In fact, it was the utter frivolity that made it so fun.
Which led her to the second factor: It was Sir Abstrupus who was throwing this fancy-dress ball, and plainly, she was curious.
He hadn’t disappointed.
All the neighboring estate owners within a fifty-mile radius would be talking about this ball for years to come. Eventually, it would become legend. Simply, it was that extravagant and that unusual and so very Sir Abstrupus.
Along with his collection of exotic blooming plants and flowers, Sir Abstrupus had had four towering potted palms brought in from the orangery and placed around the ballroom. Usually, at a ball, a string quartet provided the music for dancing, but tonight’s waltzing was to the musical strains of …pipe organ?
The Roost had a pipe organ?
So, it was fair to say her curiosity was appeased on the matter of what sort of fancy-dress ball Sir Abstrupus would host—an eccentric one.
But it was the third factor that had her heart thundering in her chest and the blood effervescing in her veins.
Bran might be in attendance.
It had been weeks since they’d seen each other.
Since that final night at Somerton.
Within an hour of his departure and her confrontation with Mother, Artemis, too, had left and returned to the Grange, where she’d hoped to sink into its daily routine. But it was without joy or a true sense of purpose that she went through the rounds of her usual tasks, walking through her days with a sort of numbness—which was preferable to the tears brought on by night.
The world was different now, and it was taking some time to settle into her bones.
There was the obvious fact that her relationship with Mother was irrevocably altered.Good.The complex mix of sadness and relief had taken her by surprise. Still, she had Bran to thank for it. If he hadn’t pushed her to see all the harm Mother had done, and for the reasons she’d done it, Artemis never would have.
But it wasn’t all good, was it? Had she lost Bran?
No.
She hadn’t.
She wouldn’t.
And that was the truewhyof her presence here.
She’d had enough time—and so had he. What healing they needed would be done together. She was determined. They’d had enough loss for two lifetimes.
No more.
They wouldn’t lose each other.
Though they’d untethered their boats for these long few weeks, she still held onto the sight of him on the horizon. It was time they rowed back toward one another.
So, she’d donned her Artemis costume and come to the ball.
And now, on the opposite side of the dancing floor, there he was, the elegant simplicity of his evening blacks in stark contrast to the outrageous resplendence of Sir Abstrupus’s costume. The old schemer was gilded nearly to his eyeballs.
Across the expanse of gleaming mahogany, Bran’s gaze shifted and their eyes locked.
No one else mattered—or even existed.
Sir Abstrupus said something that Bran acknowledged with a distracted nod, before he melted into the crowd as much as a Sun King could.
