“I’ll be fine,” he said.
I nodded and gripped my case more tightly, wrist pressed to my waist.
Gabriel leaned forward, touching my chin, my cheek, brushing a loose strand behind my ear. His lips touched mine. Soft, yet firm. Warm and lovely. He pulled away, our bottom lips holding until the last moment and then disconnecting with regret.
“Good luck, Marietta. I know you will be fine. Remember what I said.”
Find some nice young man to marry,comfortable,not a gambler—someone who will treasure you.
Someone who wasn’t Gabriel. Someone with whom I could marry and raise a family. Someone I didn’t love.
But also someoneIwouldn’t burden. Who wouldn’t have to awkwardly reject my offerings. Who might come to love me someday.
“Good luck, Gabriel.”
The carriage took me away.
~*~
“Have you heard? The High Lady of Steelcrest and Nightshade is beingestatecensured,” one lady whispered to another as they passed through the gilded hall. “Fullcensure, not partial.”
“Barbaric. That means the estate will suffer too. She must have done somethingterrible—”
“I know! Maybe she was therealVein Ripper.” They tittered, as if this was the least believable thing. “She was alwaystoopretty, you know? And unexplained things constantly happened in her wake.”
“She knew her trends, though. The gilded will need someone to take over for that—and I nominate you, that dress ischarmed.”
“This old thing? Why it is barely above a rag,” she said, patting her beautiful gown, pleased. “But I have some ideas for that—” They passed, blending into the crowd.
I looked into the ballroom. The doors wide open to me. The night’s festivities were in full swing, the gilded euphoric over their new intrigue and gossip. And over their notorious new favorite members.
I’d had to use my newly discovered skills to become one with the fern I was currently standing beside, to take a break from being accosted by people wanting toknow. Wanting to discover the salacious news before their neighbors. Wanting to know how our veins had been recharged. What was our secret, how far would the magic go?
I paused at the threshold. Each group on the floor would be delighted for me to join them. Like a storybook on vellum pages, I was asked to dance every dance at every ball—needing to turn down offers to save my feet. It was like a strange dream. And though the vellum was lovely, it was unsatisfying.
Two women chattered in chairs off to the side. “The Winters are distantly related to the Shastmores, Givets, Frostwoods, and Tercakes. Two high lords in their tree! Lovely connections.”
The other woman nodded and I turned away. Of course now our connections were remembered, when it was convenient. The invitations that had dried up like the desert were now flooding our silver tray—the gilded eager to unearth every piece of the scandal. Our fall from grace and triumphant return.
I saw Ferris, still thin, but not emaciated like Kennen, holding court. Kennen stood next to him looking moreuncomfortable than he would have in this situation six weeks ago—Ferris, on the other hand, was acting as if he’d never left the bosom of society. As if he’d always had a small fortune, courtesy of the High Lord First of Steelcrest, and estate veins blooming with promise. I made my way to them.
“…and that is the exact thing I told him. Crandon, my friend, you don’t put the bet on the sixes!”
The crowd around him laughed. I had heard the joke six times now, though, and was waiting for someone to finally catch on that it wasn’t a very good one.
“My sister! Here she is! Have you met my sister, Plufield?”
The high lord said no and we were quickly introduced.
“Charming.”
“Delightful.”
“Handsome.”
I would start to think highly of myself if the new adjectives to describe me continued.
“I was wondering if I might have a word with you both,” I said to my brothers.
