“My mom said Vinaley was so depressed, she fell into an unresponsive, catatonic state. Val ended up killing her and then himself.”
I look away. “That’s so sad.”
“I don’t remember anything other than that.”
“Since I can travelwithoutthe blood of mothers…he wants to know what else I can do that he can’t.” My stomach turns sour at the memory of the paint crusting over Vrath’s face. “I bet traveling and killing to try and return back to his timeline has made him insane.”
“And that little detail about how sick he gets because he doesn’t belong anywhere.”
The music grows louder, and the footsteps jingle the glass ornaments on the swinging chandeliers.
“Where do you think we are in time?” I ask.
Niklaus stands himself up, and strides to a giant wardrobe in the corner of the room. Even in our time, they’ve always kept suits and dresses of all sizes and colors in there. There were days when Mabel Rose and I would sneak in here, get all dressed up, then Krimson would tease me for stuffing the chest area with tissues.
“You…you want to go to the ball?”
Niklaus flicks his gaze to me, then back to the assortment of tuxes he flips through.
“Shouldn’t we just stay hidden in here?” I yawn, stretching my sore arms over my head.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t travel when you’re calm,” he says, laying out the tux he likes. “You travel when we’re in danger, I think.”
My eyes fall shut. Why can’t I control this?
“There isn’t danger at a ball,” I sigh.
“No, but there are food and drinks.”
At the thought of hot appetizers, finger foods, and buckets of champagne—my stomach claws at itself, echoing with a long, dragged-out growl of hunger. Lately, I’m damn near at the brink of death with starvation constantly. Every time we move to a new time, my mouth waters, and my stomach twists for the next meal.
Niklaus sighs reluctantly. “Get drunk with me?”
For a sliver of amoment, I felt relatively normal while we got ready for the ball. The makeup, the gown that is a little loose around my shoulders, and the curlers I put in my hair.
We took our time, found a half-empty bottle of bourbon and took two shots each.
I spent most of the time blotting away at the discoloration and bruises on my face and neck with heavy makeup.
Now, at the top of the grand staircase, we stand to take it all in. The great dome ceiling painted with fluffy pink clouds, majestic beasts, family and portraits, and giant honey chandeliers sparkling over the ballroom of spinning, twirling, laughing, dancing men and women.
Niklaus and I have been to many balls before. But this is the first we attend from an era before we were born. The Lady-Doll Regimen era. It doesn’t take long to recognize the clear signs of eating disorders, starvation, and pallid skin that has seen very little sun. I’ve never see such sharp, protruding collar bones or pointy shoulder caps. The corsets around each waist make me want to faint from lack of oxygen.
Niklaus clears his throat, holding an arm out to me.
Being here, in this ballroom, seeing his cold eyes and sharp jawline—it all brings me back to the time he made me cry the most when I was fifteen.
Niklaus read my diary after I mistakenly left it out on my bed during one of the Sunday’s everyone came over for family dinner. Inside of the many humiliating thoughts I wrote down, one of them was that I wanted my first kiss to be at the annual ball. I wanted to dance with my crush, Dorn Leviat, and share my first kiss under the chandeliers.
And it all came true.
Niklaus Demechnef made sure of it.
Dorn asked me to the ball, danced with me, kissed me to the last song of the night. It was a masquerade ball. The orchestrated dance required us to switch partners a few times. Dorn found his way back to me after a few rounds, and when the music slowed, he stopped our dancing, held my face, and dipped down to kiss me.
