Henrietta cowers as Kosac approaches, seemingly out of nowhere. He has replaced his midnight robes with ones that have faded gold embroidery. The hood still cloaks his face in shadow. Every step he takes makes the air grow colder. I plant my feet to resist the urge to run.
“My realm suits you,” he says.
I don’t smile. I don’t belong here or in this dress.
“Is this party really necessary?” I place a hand on my hip.
Kosac slips his skeletal arm around the flesh of mine, bones clicking as he pulls me along. I stumble in my stupid satin slippers.
Henrietta stays behind.
“I’ve heard stories about you, Leigh,” Kosac says. “No one described you as rude. So why disrespect me when I’ve gone out of my way to be hospitable to you?”
My attention snaps to his. Who told him about me? “Have you been speaking with Aradia? Please, tell me where she is.”
We stop before the ballroom’s massive double doors. Otherworldly music bleeds through the cracks. It sounds like a funeral dirge.
“Here we are. Now, do enjoy yourself. Remember, everyone’s been dying to meet you.” He chuckles at his joke.
“I did what you wanted; I came to your party—now release Fynn.”
“Getting here was the easy part. Now it’s time to have some fun,” Kosac replies.
“Please. I can’t stay here…”
“This is where I leave you.”
“You aren’t going inside?” This party was his idea. If he doesn’t join me, should we agree on a proper time for him to hand over Fynn? Is an hour of mingling enough?
“I will soon.”
“I’m begging you, just bring me Fynn, and I will go home. No one will bother you or your ghosts again.”
Kosac steps back, his form seeming to blur at the edges.
“Kosac!”
He dissolves into shadow, leaving me alone in the hallway. I go to inhale a long breath, but the corset immediately punishes me for it. Kosac is a pain in my royal ass. He begs me to go to this party, then vanishes the moment I arrive. Why?
Whatever the reason, I won’t find answers standing out here.
Inside the ballroom, a masquerade is in full swing. I sigh. I’m at the wrong party, wrong place, and wrong time. Hundreds of floating candles cast twisting shadows along the walls, and the crowd pulses with unearthly life. Couples dressed in elaborate period costumes twirl across the dance floor, their feet hardly touching the floor.
So, this is where all the ghosts in this level of Mictlan hang out? Do they live here? Do they work here? I wonder if Kosac forced them to attend this party, just as he forced Henrietta to dress me and avoid speaking to me. The instruments play themselves, as if by cosmic magic—a haunted waltz I recognize from my grandmother’s collection.
“So, it’s true, the mortal queen has indeed honored us with her presence.” A man in a moth-eaten wool suit appears before me, extending a hand that looks too pale, too perfect to be real. “Would you do me the extraordinary honor of a dance, my lady?”
“I—” I have no excuse. Kosac holds the answers in his hands. Until he arrives, I might as well question the guests. Henrietta made it seem as though she were a prisoner. Are all these guests here against their will? If that’s the case, maybe they’ll tell me where to find Fynn, and in return, I will work on finding a way to free them.
Taking my hand in his cold one, the ghost smiles. His teeth gleam like polished ivory.
The ghost leads as we waltz. Forward, side, close; back, side, close. Growing up, my mother insisted that I take ballroom dance lessons. At least I am not making a fool of myself.
Everyone except me is wearing a mask, and they all stare at me unblinkingly. Not the delicate lace ones like at Little Death. These masks cover most of their faces, are white, and have large noses and strong jawlines, as if Kosac wants to hide their identities. Some wear colorful clown-like masks, while the women wear black velvet ones.
“Can I ask you a question?” I ask the ghost guiding me around the dance floor.
“Your countenance is so very like hers,” the ghost tells me.
