Page 73 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
A group of giggling gentry strides past us down the path, their servant hurrying to catch up and lift their dress trains to avoid falling in the snow. I glimpse hollow cheeks and sunken eyes when the servant glances at me. The contrast jars—opulence and desperation side by side, separated by an invisible line. A pang of guilt twists in my gut as I think of Colin. His continued absence weighs on me.
Dream webs sparkle between hedges, casting intricate shadows on the snow-dusted ground. Only the pathway to the Cabinet of Curiosities remains dark, an ominous entrance into the maze holding my mate for ransom. A tug pulls at my chest, halting my steps. Bodin’s touch warms my back, urging me onward.
“But—” I start, barely above a whisper.
“Later,” he interrupts, his stern look swinging toward the palace. The others are already a few paces ahead.
Being this close to Fox without seeing him feels like a betrayal. My chest aches with a mixture of longing and guilt. How can I be here, about to celebrate, while he’s trapped in stone? And yet, the warmth of Bodin’s hand on my back sends a confusing thrill through me.
“Let’s just get this night over with,” he grumbles, his breath clouding in the cold air.
Unlike us, he wears his usual black House of Shadow attire and a tailored suit. It should be comfortable, but he shifts from boot to boot, betraying his unease.
“You look nice,” I whisper, trying to lighten the mood.
He meets my eyes, surprise flickering across his features. I meant it. The simple, black attire becomes him. It’s rare to see him out of his rough work clothes. Now I’ve seen him look all dashing twice. All those hard muscles are hidden in sleek darkness, but his lethal prowess feels more apparent.
I reach out, gently touching his hair. Someone has changed the tiny braids to tight, twisted rolls. No, wait. There’s something wound around them. I take a length and roll it between my fingers. He inhales sharply, watching me intently. The thin sections are braids on the scalp but morph into something else further down that’s kept in place by a glittering thread. Black skull-shaped beads are clamped on regularly, tingling with power against my fingertips.
“You have charms,” I murmur, curiosity and concern warring.
A muscle flexes in his jaw. “She tries to stifle us, but we find ways of growing stronger.”
“Who did your hair?” I ask, unable to keep the edge from my voice.
“I’m not telling,” he returns, amusement in his eyes.
“Why?” Jealousy runs through my veins, hot and unexpected. Then suspicion follows. It better not have been a female. Maybe I could handle Cricket touching him, but one of the ladies-in-waiting? No way.
The line moves forward, and we’re suddenly faced with Cobweb and Moth. It takes every ounce of self-control not to burst into laughter. Their eyebrows are missing, replaced by comically elaborate arches adorned with sparkling gemstones.
“Bejeweled locusts” is my first thought as I take in their attire. Emrys’s disdain seems to be rubbing off on me. Cobweb’s lips curl in a sneer as her gaze travels from my borrowed trousers to Geraldine’s eye patch. Moth lets out a delicate, mocking laugh.
“My, my,” Moth coos, “did you mistake the Winter Solstice Ball for a peasant’s costume party?”
I clench my fists, biting back a retort. We may look out of place, but we’re far from powerless. Bodin’s low growl beside me is a reminder that we’re not to be trifled with.
Behind the ladies, I catch a glimpse inside the ballroom. Fae and exhibitors sparkle brightly. Not a single dark dress or costume is in sight. The air thrums with wild, raucous energy barely contained. Laughter and music intertwine, creating a dizzying symphony of color and sound.
Goodfellow stands on a glittering dais, hands on hips, scanning the crowd with a pleased expression. His eyebrowless face looks almost as comical as the ladies-in-waiting. The glitter in his stockings makes his enormous codpiece stand out like a sore thumb. But I notice the stony gaze the most, a coldness that doesn’t match the festive atmosphere.
With a start, I realize the Baleful Hunt is not at its post guarding Titania’s temple. Nor was it there during class today. My heartbeat kicks up a notch. Maybe I can visit Fox, after all.
“Your offerings?” Cobweb’s voice drips with disdain.
Moth titters. “Oh my.”
“This won’t end well for you,” Cobweb adds, smirking when they see we have nothing in our hands.
I curse inwardly, remembering too late the fae custom of bringing gifts to curry favor with the nobility. Each offering, carefully chosen, can influence alliances and tip the scales of power. Our empty hands might as well be a slap in the face to the Court.
Bodin’s growl rumbles low. “Threatening our Shadow?”
They pale. Stammer. Curtsey.
He grumbles some more, annoyed, and directs us inside.
More snickers follow us as we enter the ballroom. My cheeks burn with embarrassment when we reach Peablossom at the refreshments stand. She moves and adjusts the flower arrangements to catch the light just right. Her dress is a supernova of light, twinkling more than the stars decorating her pastel blue hair. My friends start sampling the food, oblivious to Peablossom’s smile dropping when she glances at us.
