She’d always hated formal parties. She hated dancing with the older men, who obviously eyed her breasts pushed up from her ridiculously tight corset, whilst simultaneously trying to hold a boring conversation. She’d tried to sneak out of the house earlier in the afternoon, but her maid had stopped her and all but dragged her back to get her ready for the evening.
The only thing she’d ever liked about balls was the music. She loved how the musicians, whether only a few of them or a full orchestra, would come together in harmony and synchrony, creating beautiful sounds she could lose herself in. She’d never been particularly good at playing any instruments, but she was a skilled dancer and loved to sing along to her favourite symphonies.
But of course, balls did not allow young ladies to dance freely and sing wildly. No, it was all certain steps, in a certain lineup, with certain people. Everything was about control, and as a young woman, Adriana knew she would always be on the receiving end of it all.
“Adriana Clarke!” her father shouted, snapping his fingers in her face to get her attention. “Are you even listening?”
“Yes, father.” She rolled her eyes as she fiddled with her dress, her corset cutting into her waist uncomfortably and the skirts feeling too heavy. Even the red paint on her lips and the pale powder on her face that she had also used to cover the Luciferus and Incantrix brands on her back felt too constricting.
As a child, she’d been excited to wear the pretty dresses and fanciful makeup the ladies wore to formal events, but as shematured into her curvy figure, she realised how absurd the fashion choices were for female bodies. How anyone was meant to move or even breathe under the layers upon layers of silk she did not know. At home, she was able to wear simple sundresses, or loose blouses tucked into skirts, and have her brands on display if she chose. But none of that was an option for tonight’s ball. Tonight she was dressed to impress, and she had to be impressive enough to outshine the other girls if she were to fulfil her father’s wishes to gain any suitors.
Her father continued to drone on about the men he knew would be in attendance. Adriana could hardly keep her eyes open, let alone take in anything he was saying. She had worked tirelessly for the past four months on controlling her powers with Striga. She’d made excellent progress, her Elementai gifts were so much stronger and she was able to call upon any of the elements when she desired, although they still tended to become out of control when she was overly emotional.
Xander had continued his routine check-ins, stopping by her house once a day to watch Adriana and Striga practising in the gardens or, now that it was colder, in the drawing room. He never said anything, not since that day he had angered her so much her Luciferus power had shown itself. She almost found his silence more unbearable than his harsh and condescending tone. Whenever he looked at her, she could feel the heavy weight of his stare burning holes through her, the way it sent her heart rate racing and made her hands shake.
Her Luciferus power had not made another appearance since that day. It was as if that power had stopped the moment Xander had refused to speak another word to her. She had tried to call upon it, even silently begged the moon at night, but she could not bring back that warm glow to her hands. She just didn’t have it in her. Something was missing, though she couldn’t discover what it was.
Striga took one of Adriana’s hands in hers, fidgeting with her small black lace glove to make sure it fit properly.
“Are you sure you will not be cold, my Adria? They say it may snow tonight, and you have no sleeves and these gloves will offer you no warmth.”
“I shall be fine,” Adriana snapped, snatching her hand away and looking out the carriage window again.
She watched as they neared the end of the path towards Duran Manor, seeing the glow of candles inside the windows and hearing a soft symphony of strings coming from inside. She’d questioned why they couldn’t walk to the manor, it would have taken less than half an hour to make it around the lake, but her father had explained he wanted to make a grand entrance. He wanted to pull out all the stops to increase her chances of catching a gentleman’s eye, and so their best carriage had been the only option.
As they pulled up in front of the stone steps leading to the doorway of the manor, Adriana took a deep breath in, closing her eyes briefly, before returning the soft smile her father gave her.
“You look beautiful, love. Just like your mother.”
Adriana only hummed at him in response. She’d never been one to take compliments well, partly because she didn’t feel she deserved them, and partly because she knew it pained her father to be reminded of his dear wife.
Their carriage door opened and she stepped down, ignoring the hand offered to her by one of the manor staff. She heard her father grunt behind her at her rudeness, but she paid no mind. She was too busy watching all the other guests through the windows, twirling and dancing in precision with the tempo of the musicians she could hear. The old apple trees along the path had been decorated with festive ornaments, the stone staircaseadorned with garlands of holly and mistletoe. It was wonderful, truly. And she dreaded going inside.
Before she could ascend the stone steps, she heard a whistle from behind and turned. Jonathon sat in the driver's seat of their carriage, his dirty blond hair hidden beneath a top hat that was far too big for him. He gave her body a lingering look before he winked and steered the horses away, knowing Adriana would likely seek him out when the night was over. The action was not unnoticed by Striga, who tutted at her before taking her arm and ushering her inside.
Just as predicted, as soon as she stepped into the ballroom, the vultures descended upon her. All eyes fixed on her, the strange daughter of the renowned Lord Clarke.
Adriana smiled politely at everyone as she walked Striga round to a corner where she could sit and watch the room. But as soon as Striga let go of her arm, Adriana was hounded by several men, demanding her attention.
“Mistress Adriana, allow me the pleasure of being your first dance of the evening,” Major Yorke stated. She noticed how he didn’t ask, only commanded, adding emphasis on the word ‘pleasure’.
“Perhaps later, Major Yorke. I would like to get some refreshments for my great-grandmother and I first.”
“Then allow me, Mistress Adriana. I must fetch some champagne for you.”
Adriana turned to the second voice, Lord Miller. “That’s quite alright,” she smiled sweetly at him, the pleasantness in her voice all too easy to force after so many years of practice. “I am sure I can manage such a small task myself, my Lord.”
Just as she thought she was free, she felt a tug on her arm as someone silently wrote their name on her dance card. It was Lord Abbot, the one man her father had actually given her permission to avoid. He was sickeningly pale and unbearablythin, with dark eyes and black hair that was slicked back so tightly Adriana was sure it would give him a headache.
“Excuse me, sir, but I believe you must ask a lady to dance before she accepts your name on her card?”
He only smiled at her words, not in a friendly way nor even polite, but a cold grin that belonged to a man who knew he would always get what he wanted. He tipped his hat at her, before walking away to join in a conversation nearby but never taking his beady eyes off her.
Adriana pursed her lips, struggling to hold back her anger at how he had dismissed her. She looked for her father and found him talking to a group of men from the village, often glancing her way and gesturing to her as he very obviously sung her praises. She looked down at Striga, who only gave her a sympathetic smile as if to tell her it was out of her hands.
The music came to a close and the musicians readied themselves for the next song, signalling her fate. She eyed the doors, wondering if she could try to make her escape, but a cold hand gripped the top of her arm and led her to the centre of the dance floor. With her head hung low, she walked along, but she knew even if she had refused to move, Lord Abbot probably would have dragged her there anyway.
She locked eyes momentarily with the two Lamia men she had seen accompanying Xander the day he’d moved in, Deion and Edward. But they quickly averted their gazes to look over her head at something else, the same worried expression across both of their faces.
