Chapter 13

Finally, Seraphina reached the last step, and the crowd erupted in applause. Surrounded by a room of blank, expressionless masks, she felt oddly exposed and hurried over to the king, who hugged her so fiercely she was nearly thrown off balance by her wings.

He was dressed as a king, but an old-fashioned one, in a full white ermine cloak with black fur tufts and an exaggerated gold crown. His mask covered his entire face in white porcelain. “Happy birthday, my beautiful daughter. How does it feel to be twenty years old, Genny?”

Seraphina had never felt more alone than she did in that moment. Everything he’d just said was part of the beautiful lie she’d allowed to be constructed around her since she left her family. Yes, she had been taken, but she should have refused. She should have died trying to escape and get back to her family, no matter what the rabbi told them. Even if it had only given her one more day with the people she loved, it would have been worth it.

Someone handed her a glass of sparkling wine. The king’s head was cocked, the blank expression of the mask somehow expectant, and she felt like she had no choice but to drink. There, she wasn’t even strong enough to resist a sip of wine.

I’ll make a game of it, she told herself. One sip every time someone wishes me a happy birthday.

Somewhere music began to play, and someone took her hand and whirled her into a spin. She looked up to find a man in a white mask with gold scrolling. She’d always found this the most disturbing style of masquerade mask, the way the area beneath the nose protruded forward like a shovel, but it was practical. The wearer could hide his identity and still eat and drink freely.

“What are you supposed to be, Lord Greymont?” she asked, taking in his elaborate black-and-red costume. “You look like the devil.”

“I don’t know who this Lord Greymont is, but I hope he’s good with a sword, because I plan to fight off any man who attempts to dance with the angel in my arms.”

Seraphina couldn’t help laughing. “We both know I’m no angel.”

As they spun toward the window, he ran his fingers along the edge of her gold mask, where it met her cheekbone. “Happy birthday.”

Her breath caught at their reflection in the exposed glass: an angel whirling in the devil’s arms, the Danse Macabre personified. They were Life and Death, removed only by a single heartbeat. She hardly recognized herself behind the mask.

When they waltzed past a servant holding a tray of crystal flutes, she plucked one off the tray and drained it in one gulp.

As the evening passed into night, she was handed from one masked partner to another, always spinning, drinking, laughing. She was no longer Imogen, or Seraphina, but some other girl entirely, one whose wings were heavy but whose feet were lighter than air. The lords were all practiced enough that it didn’t matter if she knew the steps; they carried her around the room as if she were as insubstantial as a dove. She gazed up at the ceiling, where cherubs gazed back at her from the Garden of Eden. She’d been taught that everything in this life would be explained in the world to come, that all the hardships her people endured would make sense on the other side. But that was before the plague came and everything was turned upside down. Now she wondered what she could possibly learn in death that would help her to understand a God who would allow so much suffering.

As the sky outside began to darken, she found herself clinging to her partner’s arms to stay upright. His dark clothing came into focus and she realized Greymont had found her once again.

“You should eat something,” he said as the music slowed to a stop. The musicians were taking a break. “Dinner hasn’t been announced yet, but there is bread somewhere. I can get some for you if you like.”

“I’m fine,” she said, pushing her mask up to her forehead. “Let me see your face.”

He clucked his tongue. “That will spoil the illusion.”

Her vision blurred, turning him into a two-headed demon. “Please, Lord Greymont?”

“Only if you’ll stop calling me Lord Greymont. My name,” he whispered, “is Henry.”

She smiled and nodded. “Very well, Henry.”

He pulled the mask off and shook out his hair. “Happy?”

“You really are handsome, Henry,” she mumbled, though it took more effort to form the words than it should have.

He laughed. “You’re just now noticing?”

She was about to reply with something snarky when she felt a gentle but firm grip on her arm.

“Come, Your Highness. You need to rest.” Jocelyn led her away from Henry with a knowing glance. As they passed a servant, Seraphina reached for another glass of the sparkling wine, but Jocelyn batted her hand away.

“No more of that,” she said, replacing Seraphina’s mask. “You’ll be sick if you keep this up.” She led Seraphina to an alcove in a hallway where they had a little privacy. “Here, let me help you with your wings.”

Seraphina hadn’t realized just how heavy they really were until they were removed. There was a dull aching in her lower back and a sharper pain in her shoulders, where the ribbons had cut into her skin. Jocelyn laid the wings on the floor near her feet. “Drink this,” she commanded, handing her a glass of water.

Seraphina sipped dutifully. The partygoers had branched out from the white ballroom into the other colored chambers. From where they sat, she could see into the violet room, where Nina was dancing with her lord. Seraphina wondered if he’d proposed yet. Rose was nowhere to be seen, but Seraphina was confident she was dancing somewhere. Anything that would allow her to twirl in her pink dress. She caught fleeting glimpses of Giselle as she was passed from one would-be suitor to another, though Seraphina couldn’t imagine her ever deigning to marry one of the men here.

“It was her idea, you know,” Jocelyn said, gesturing toward Giselle. “Removing all the boards from the windows.”

Seraphina started. “What? Why?”

“I think she was hoping it would turn the king against you, after what we all witnessed this morning. You know what she’s like. She hates that all this fuss is being made on your behalf.”

Giselle had reminded the king that the sunrise had been Seraphina’s idea earlier. But why would she want to tamper with the king’s fragile mind now, when all these years she’d done everything she could to protect it? Especially when it came to Seraphina?

Could Giselle want to leave Eldridge Hall, finally?

“Did Lord Greymont propose?” Jocelyn asked, interrupting Seraphina’s thoughts.

It took a moment for her friend’s face to come into focus. “I beg your pardon?” Seraphina said with a hiccup.

“You’ve been spending so much time with him lately, and you’ve seemed so much happier. I assumed a proposal was coming, if it hasn’t already.”

She drained the glass of water and handed it back to Jocelyn. “No, of course not. If he’d proposed, do you really think I wouldn’t have told you?”

Jocelyn lowered her eyes to her lap, where she plucked at one of the crocheted daisies. “We haven’t spoken as much lately.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We talk every single day.”

Jocelyn lowered her mask. “I mean about the world outside Eldridge.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “You haven’t mentioned your family in weeks.”

Seraphina untied her mask, too, revealing the tears in her eyes. They seemed to come so easily lately. “Every time I mention them, I’m reminded of how much I miss them. Of how wicked I am for leaving them behind.” She held up her hand when Jocelyn began to protest. “I know you’re going to say it wasn’t a choice—”

“That’s because it wasn’t.” Jocelyn wiped the tears from Seraphina’s cheeks with a handkerchief. “Please, try not to cry. It’s your birthday.”

“But it’s not, Joc. You of all people know that.”

“I know.” She held on to Seraphina’s hand, though she didn’t meet her eyes. “If you’re determined to leave, I know of a way. I think it’s safe now, or at least safer than it was.” She bit her lip, as if unsure if she should continue.

“What is it?” Seraphina asked.

“I don’t want you to hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Jocelyn.”

Finally, she looked up, her own eyelashes damp with tears. “There’s a way out of the castle. A door in the keep’s wall, and a gap in the wall surrounding the castle. One of the servants told me. He owed me a favor.”

For a moment Seraphina wondered how long Jocelyn had known, but she decided it didn’t matter. The truth was she hadn’t been brave enough to leave on her own before now. Maybe she’d needed this—to have her hopes stoked by Greymont, and then dashed by the king—in order to rise to the occasion. “I know,” Seraphina said. “I discovered it myself recently.”

Jocelyn blinked. “Then what are you still doing here? Why haven’t you left?”

Seraphina took a deep breath. “You’re going to think me a fool, but I’d devised a plan.”

Jocelyn arched an eyebrow. “A plan?”

“It involved Henry.”

Jocelyn’s other eyebrow rose to meet the first. “Oh, he’s Henry now?”

Seraphina rolled her eyes. “Lord Greymont has a ship, and an island. I thought if I could make him fall in love with me, he would agree to take me away from Eldridge Hall, after we all watched the sunrise and saw that it was safe to leave.”

Jocelyn was quiet for a long moment. “You were going to leave with Lord Greymont?”

Seraphina sighed. “I was afraid I couldn’t do it on my own. I don’t know what’s waiting for me out there. But it’s become clearer with every passing day that the king is never going to let me leave. This morning was the final proof.”

“But you wouldn’t have been alone. You would have had me.”

Seraphina was surprised by the vulnerability in Jocelyn’s voice. “You always tell me how fortunate we are to be here. I assumed you wouldn’t want to leave.”

A single tear slipped down Jocelyn’s cheek. It was the first time Seraphina had seen her cry. “You’re the only family I have left.”

Seraphina placed her hand over Jocelyn’s, her heart swelling with gratitude to have even one person in Eldridge who accepted her exactly as she was. “Of course you can come with me. I’d be a mess out there on my own. And I think it’s safe to say there’s no ‘Prince of Pilmand’ coming to save us.” She paused as a couple walked by, their heads nearly touching as they whispered to each other. Behind their masks, Seraphina could feel their eyes on her, judging.

Jocelyn wrapped an arm around Seraphina, and she rested her head on Jocelyn’s thin shoulder. “You’re right. You would be a mess out there,” Jocelyn said with a laugh. “You can’t even dress your own hair.”

Seraphina gasped in mock offense. “I can so.” She smiled to herself. “I just like it better when you do it.”

“So it’s settled, then? Whatever happens, we’ll leave here together?”

Seraphina nodded, stifling a yawn. They sat in silence so long that Seraphina wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t fallen asleep. She sat up, pressing the heels of her hands to her tired eyes. “Would you mind finding me some tea, Joc? I promise not to drink any more wine tonight, no matter how many people wish me a happy birthday.”

“So that was the game you were playing?”

Seraphina laughed wryly. “Among many others.”

Jocelyn nodded and rose. “Do you want help with your wings?”

She ran her hands over the feathers and frowned. “No, they’re too heavy. Besides, the king seemed to be matching me glass for glass of the wine. I doubt he’ll notice now.”

“Very well. Think you can stay out of trouble for a few minutes?”

“I’ll do my best.” She waited for Jocelyn to go before rising. The time off her feet seemed to have helped. Her head was clearer, though the dim light made her feel as if she was floating as she walked down the corridor. Surely, they would be called to eat soon. Food would do her good. Food and strong black tea.

She hadn’t realized she was heading toward the great hall until she heard the boom-boom-boom of the clock, striking what she guessed was ten o’clock. She’d lost count of the hour. The only light in the midnight chamber came from the crescent moon through the open window, swathing Seraphina in silver. There was no one here, of course. Why the king had even bothered to decorate the room was a mystery.

The wind whistled through the keyhole in the clock, and Seraphina could have sworn she smelled a whiff of decay on the breeze. Perhaps it was only the flowers decorating the hall. They were already beginning to droop in their black porcelain vases. But that was the beauty of darkness: it obscured what shouldn’t be seen. By moonlight, death could masquerade as slumber.

She turned back toward the great hall’s entrance, where a faint glow of candlelight beckoned her back to the hallway, and to the promise of Jocelyn’s warm tea. She would be looking for Seraphina by now.

Just as she was about to leave, she heard a soft scraping noise behind her. A shiver ran up her spine. She was mere feet from the hallway. She could hear the laughter of the party coming toward her; could feel the warmth of the bodies in the other rooms. Somewhere, a dinner bell chimed, calling everyone to the feast. But something made her turn.

She didn’t see it at first. It stood in front of the clock, so black it was nearly indistinguishable. Then the moonlight caught along the edge of something long and curved, like a beak. An enormous raven, as if the bird on top of the clock had grown into a giant and descended from its perch. Its black feathers were coarse and oily, and its shiny black eyes stared at her, unblinking.

A memory came to her of one harsh winter, when a raven would come to her window every morning and peck at the glass. When she woke, she would bang on the window, but the raven wasn’t afraid of her. It would continue to strike its strong beak against the glass, cocking its head at her and making a terrible noise in its throat. Let me in, it seemed to be saying. Let me in or I’ll break the glass myself.

Seraphina gasped and turned, her feet tangling in her thin white skirts. The next thing she knew, she was falling.

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