Page 21 of The Curse of Ophelia

Chapter Nine

For two days I tracked the Curse, but my efforts were futile. No one I crossed paths with in Palerman showed visible signs of sharing my fate.

The agreeable weather meant that most residents wore sleeveless dresses or cuffed them, making it easy to glimpse the vulnerable wrists of Mystique descendants as I walked the dusty streets. I pushed my nose into shops, made friendlier conversation than I had in two years, and lingered around the First Warrior fountain, taking any advantage to earn a glimpse at one more wrist.

My own hands had remained within the long folds of my sleeves, and I fought the urge to clamp my hand over my wrist. As if leaving it exposed beneath the fabric would somehow make it visible.

Relief or disappointment—I couldn’t be sure which emotion rose faster within my heart as I saw each bare wrist belonging to a familiar face. Comfort that no one else was to suffer my fate battled the selfish uncertainty of why the Curse had chosen me.

But when I remembered everything else that had been taken from me, it seemed a cruel but expected joke that the fates would bestow this end upon me.

So, it was with a silent satisfaction that I prepared myself for my twentieth—and what would be my last—birthday celebration. I was not afraid of the unknown bleakness of death. I welcomed the numbing reality, sure that it would alleviate the ache planted in my soul two years ago when my future was ripped away.

Darkness infringed on the night as I brushed my long, wavy locks, setting them back from my face with two studded combs. The diamonds glittered in the mystlight of my vanity, sending shimmers across the sun-kissed highlights in my hair. I had not worn these combs—or any jewels—in years. But as I drew closer to my fate, a fresh desire bloomed within me. Tonight, I would celebrate my life with splendor.

The dress I had selected hung on the door of my armoire, the long train trailing to the ground. It was made of a deep red silk, the precise shade of blood. Ironic, I laughed to myself, aware that no one else at the gathering would understand my morbid thoughts. They would see the silk and chiffon skirts trailing behind me, the tight bodice with shimmering gold embroidery laced up to accentuate my curves, and the plunging neckline and exposed shoulders that were captivating and elegant.

The crowning feature was the sleeves: They hugged the muscles in my arms tightly, gathering at the wrists, with a loop that slid over the middle finger of each hand. No part of my secret would be exposed.

Yes, it is the perfect dress to welcome the year of my death.

Wearing only my undergarments, I stepped into the skirts and painstakingly laced up the corset. It would have been quicker to call on Jezebel to assist me, but the week’s events made me feel isolated, and I retreated into that solace now. More than that, I wanted to see this through on my own.

When I looked in the mirror, my jaw nearly dropped at my own reflection. For years I fought against the refinement I now embraced, opting for barely-there dresses when I could not don my leather training garb. The full skirts and tightened bodices had never felt like me. Now, surrounded by silk the color of my tainted blood, prepared to greet my encroaching death within a matter of days, I looked entirely myself.

A devious smile crept across my face, my magenta eyes flaring with excitement. Thanks to the cosmetics my sister had gifted me, they stood out more than usual. You’re to use all of these tonight, no exception, she had said, shoving the box into my hands over breakfast. I knew better than to question her eye for everything glamorous.

Before leaving my room, I stole one last glance at my wrist. It had been two days, and the Curse had barely spread. Odd and inexplicable, as the Curse should have ravaged my blood by now. The pain was still a nearly unbearable reminder of its presence, but the webbing remained isolated to the veins on the inside of my wrist.

I chose not to question the progress. With one last vicious, satisfied grin, I tucked my sleeve over the affliction, and turned for the door. Tainted blood pounded through my veins, louder with each step down the darkened hallway. Dim chatter floated up to me as I stood on the top landing and gathered myself for that first step into the last frivolous night of my life.

*

Shock. That was what filled the air as I descended the staircase that curved toward the door of our grand room. From me, from my family, and from my friends.

My mother went above everyone’s standards for this party, transforming our home with cascading golden drapery and glittering mystlight chandeliers. It was finery we had not seen since we fell into a state of mourning following the war. It appeared that for tonight my mother had returned to the old ways.

We had but a small number of guests—my closest friends, family, and warriors of honor who would expect to receive an invitation, such as the Mystique Council members. Long tables of bountiful food lined the far wall of the room, an array of my favorite dishes calling to me. Vested servers stood to one side, awaiting the signal to begin distributing hor d’oeurves and glasses of sparkling wine from polished trays. In the corner beside the door was a trio prepared to entertain us with fine music.

But no one paid any heed to the decor, food, or musicians. When I entered, I stole their attention. It was as if all air had been sucked from the room, and I was the source of everyone’s breath. The scornful woman of just a few days past would have hated the attention, but tonight was different. Tonight, I wanted to live one last time.

Crossing the wooden floor, my heels echoed through the stunned silence, transporting me to another life. One where this night would have seemed entirely normal—understated even. I stood in the center of the room, soaking in the astonished expressions of my guests with wicked glee.

“Thank you all for coming,” I called in a clear voice. The ringing tone belonged to the girl I used to be. The one I was saying goodbye to.

When I looked to my family and closest friends, I saw confusion crossing over their faces. My mother leaned in to my father to whisper what I was sure was a statement about my appearance, finally indulging the feminine side she often forced on me.

A silent chuckle went through me at the group’s inability to grasp my pivoting mood—that is, all of them except two. My grandmother, who met my mischievous grin with a twin smirk of her own, and Tolek. He did not appear confused, but enchanted. His deep brown eyes widened as they met mine, and he rose onto the balls of his feet before clasping his hands behind his back and squaring his shoulders, as if fighting every instinct to meet me in the center of the room.

“Tonight, we celebrate twenty years of my life. They have been full in ways one could never expect in such a short time. Both in loss and in blessing.” The Bind tingled. “Though not all whom I love are here tonight, let us revel in honor of what has certainly been a life unlike any other. I can say it has been twenty years that have felt like thrice that.” I held out my hand to summon one of the servers, and the cool stem of a glass slid between my fingers. Around the room, his peers filled empty hands with glasses. I waited until all thirty guests held one, then raised mine before me. “To this year delivering whatever dark paths fate has gathered for me.”

Brows furrowed at my ominous words, but a hesitant echo chorused around me as I drained my glass and passed it off to a waiter. I winked at my grandmother as she downed her wine, and a flicker of that silent understanding passed between us.

My mother and father said a quick hello, before departing to greet their esteemed guests, many of whom I could not be bothered with. As they left me, my father hugged me tightly, whispering against my hair, “I am proud of the woman you have become, Sorrida, but I am sorry for the events that shaped you.”

The hole in my heart stuttered, a lump threatening to form in my throat, but I shoved the grief down for the evening. I nodded at my father and raised my chin. “Thank you” was all I could manage.

My grandmother stepped up before I could give in to the emotion flooding my system.

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