“You look more than acceptable,” she said approvingly. “You should be thankful I found you. Others would have put you in yellow. Or worse, pink.”
“If that’s the case, I’m very thankful. I doubt Erebus would recognize me if I were wearing pink,” I said with a grin. Aris returned my smile, but her expression felt a little sad. And expectant, somehow. “I hope you’re chosen by a Weaver,” I added. And I meant it. “I hope your brother is, too.”
Aris bowed, and when she stood again, she straightened her back and held her chin high. “Enjoy the Revel. Perhaps I will see you again, one day.”
And she left me to continue alone.
I hesitated at the end of the path, taking a grounding breath. In the flurry of being whittled into a finer, more elegant version of myself, I had nearly forgotten where I was. And, perhaps even more importantly, where the Shadow Bringer was.
And wherewasthe Shadow Bringer?
More dreamers passed by, continuing to the Revel. Women in floating gowns and glistening facial adornments. Men, some with their eyes and lips defined by paint and powder, in equally brilliant clothes. Supple fabric, open necklines, dramatic hemlines, intricate layers and beadwork. There were a few children, too; some of the younger ones beamed with excitement, but others seemed listless, as if they’d already been to Evernight a thousand times, and this was just another boring familial requirement. Adults and children. Beautiful, chattering dreamers of all ages.
But no Shadow Bringer.
Maybe he’d decided to pursue whatever it was he wanted to do now that we could be seen and felt. Maybe he’d figured I’d only get in his way. I gritted my teeth, considering. Okay, so maybe Iwouldget in his way. But that would only be because I was brave enough to try.
I decided to follow the next family, a man and woman with their son and daughter, slowing my pace so as to not draw attention to myself. The mother and father walked with fluid movements and raised chins, maintaining their grace and poise even in the casual audience of their immediate family. The guise of Realm attire couldn’t hide what—or who—they probably were: royalty. Or near enough to it.
My mother and father had tried to mimic that kind of elegance once. Tried to fold it into their steps and smear it over their hard edges and dirt-covered lines. A tired king and his dutiful queen.
I folded my arms over my chest, frowning at the turn my thoughts had taken.
Who was I to judge my parents? I was just as broken as they were.If not worse.
The middle passageway brightened significantly as we neared the exit, widening and arching up in time with our progress. At the top, the bridge paused in its ascent, caught by a swirling veil of mist that obscured our steps.
The daughter visibly balked, shivering as soon as the mist touched her skin. “This had better be good,” she said with a sigh. “The last timethey did the mist, it was so dull. And the mockbattles. Who even cares about war demonstrations? There are only so many ways someone can die.”
The brother glared at her, more than ready to participate in a battle of his own with his sister. “You think everything is boring. I should throw you over the bridge. Then you wouldn’t have to suffer the intolerable dullness any longer.”
“Is that how you punish your servants, too? Throw them over your drawbridge? How utterly simplistic,” she hissed, flicking her hair over her shoulder and quickening her steps. “I may tire of boring things, but at least I have more creative pursuits than throwing my heart at every man or woman who looks my way. Unlike you, who spent the last Revel with that pathetic lord’s ugly son.”
“Ugly?” he snapped back. “Ugly?What’s ugly is your gross stain of a dress. Why would you ever wear orange?”
“How does this look orange to you? It’speach,” she insisted, nearly shouting. But she picked at her dress, anyway, examining the fabric. “Just—just stop talking to me. I don’t need the validation of a fool.”
Their mother spun around, her mouth frozen in a serene smile. Which made it all the more frightening as she said, “What is trulydullanduglyis finding yourself sitting in your bedchamber, miserable and alone, while everyone else in society is enjoying the Revel. Your father and I can see to it that you never attend one again.”
The siblings immediately straightened their backs and squared their shoulders, as if to remind their mother how prim and perfect her children truly were.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed.
The mother had already turned around, no longer bothered by her children’s bickering, but the brother and sister spun at once, eyes wide behind their masks.
“The audacity,” the sister gasped, mortified.
The brother frowned at me before dragging his eyes from my feet to the top of my curled hair. Then he smirked, as if discovering a strange, disturbing secret. “You’re some fledgling acolyte’s new pet, aren’t you?You must be so overwhelmed.” He made a point to look around us. “Oh dear, I’m sorry. Have you been forgotten already? You poor thing. The acolytes can be so fickle.”
“I’m no one’s pet,” I snapped. “And myfriendis waiting for me inside.”
“It really is a pity to Revel alone. And in such a depressing dress, too,” the sister added.
The brother cocked his head and thumbed his chin. “Actually, it’s quite a nice dress.”
“It absolutely is not,” the sister insisted.
“Who made it? And your face. The glamour that they did with your eyes is striking.”
