Page 3 of Of Fate and Phantoms
"So it is. I can tell from the walking stick."
"And his wife is over there."
My gaze followed his to a group of women, their ages indeterminate thanks to their masks. "Which one?"
"The medieval princess in green."
"Are you sure? Her hair is darker."
"She's wearing a wig."
"Then how can you tell it's her?" Alice asked.
Lincoln hesitated before saying, "She's the right height and weight."
"There must be dozens of women here the same size as her," I said, indicating the hundred or more guests. "Come now, Lincoln, tell us. How do you know?"
Again, he paused. Was he reluctant to give up this knowledge? "It's no single thing. Some of her face is visible. Her mouth and chin, her throat and ears."
"Her ears?" Alice laughed, only to stop abruptly upon Lincoln's glare. He managed to instill as much steel with one eye covered by the patch as two perfectly good ones.
"She also has a broad set to her shoulders, and tilts her head to the left when she's listening. Her hands are quite large and she tucks them behind her back most of the time, perhaps because she feels self-conscious."
I looked down at my hands. They were average sized, but I could well believe they were smaller than the shape-shifting Lady Gillingham's. According to Lincoln, who'd seen her in her beast form, she resembled a wolf, and not at all human. I was wildly curious to see her change, but didn't dare ask. If she was self-conscious about her hands, imagine how she'd feel about a hairy, beastly body?
Alice blinked slowly at him through the holes in her mask. "You're entirely serious, aren't you? Are you so observant with everyone?"
"He is," I told her. "It's a skill."
If I didn't know Lincoln so well I would have been jealous that he observed so much about another woman, but I knew he probably had a dozen little ways of telling me apart from others my size. Lady Gillingham was not special.
"Oh, look, here comes another pirate," I said as a gentleman of impressive stature approached. "His costume is not nearly as unique as yours, though, Lincoln."
"It's Marchbank," he said.
I squinted as the man joined us. I could see the scars on his face now that he was closer. The broad brimmed hat, long black wig and large eye patch had hidden much, but not those.
"Good evening, Charlie, Fitzroy," he said. "Excellent costumes."
I introduced him to Alice then we fell into a discussion about the costumes. No one mentioned the recent events at Lichfield. The night General Eastbrooke had almost killed Lincoln, tried to kill me, and had blown up our kitchen was rarely discussed, even by those of us enduring the rebuilding of the kitchen. I, for one, had difficulty digesting the horror, and part of me didn't want to. It wasn't so much the horror of the injuries and destruction but of the general's betrayal. He'd been the closest thing to a father that Lincoln had, and yet he'd gone to great lengths to attempt to control and undermine him.
"I wonder what the prince and his cronies will wear," Marchbank said, watching Lincoln closely.
Lincoln went very still. "Prince?"
"I see you haven't heard."
Lady Vickers took that moment to burst through the crowd, her grin as broad as her handsome face. "You will never believe who is set to come tonight."
"The prince," I said.
Her smile wilted but only for a moment. "Isn't it exciting! I wonder who he'll bring with him. He always attends parties with a group of lively, charming royals. Such a charming man himself. I do hope his sons come, although I don't think they move in the same circles, more's the pity. You simplymustmeet him, Charlie, and you too, Alice. And Fitzroy, if you wish. I'll introduce you."
"You know him?" Alice asked.
Lady Vickers waved her hand airily. "We've met." It was hardly the same thing, but she seemed so excited that I didn't want to say anything to deflate her.
"Which prince?" I asked, glancing at Lincoln. He stood stoically, his hands at his back, and his face bland, although I could tell from the stiff set of his shoulders and firmness of his jaw that this news affected him. His father was the Prince of Wales, first in line to inherit the throne.
