Page 48

Chapter 48

Kat

The ball approaches in a blink. In the past, balls have always been a source of anxiety as I prepared for the flood of fortune-hunters. The anxiety that follows me now is of a completely different variety. Aside from our sudden wedding, I have not been in society with Rahk—much less as his wife.

Mary senses my jitters, but nothing makes me stop fidgeting with the laced edges of my bodice. Not even the whack of a folded fan against my knuckles and Mary’s glare. I cannot appreciate the beauty of the violet gown with its exquisite pearl detailing. It’s a shame, truly, because Bridget would have killed to wear a gown like this.

Rahk’s footsteps approach in the hallway beyond the closed door. Instead of knocking, he calls, “Are you ready?”

Mary struggles to pin back the wisps of hair coming free of my updo.

“Almost!” I call back, my voice pitched high.

Mary finishes her work, looks me up and down with her shrewd eye, and then purses her lips. She looks like she has something to say, but she keeps her mouth firmly closed and leaves the room.

I stand before the mirror. Mary has done well—as always. Her skills, however, cannot overcome just how uncomfortable I look in this mirror.

“May I come in?”

My heart leaps to my throat. I glance around desperately, though for what, I haven’t a clue. I’ve never tried to be pretty for Rahk before. Not like this. It is strangely vulnerable. I don’t like it. Not one bit.

I smooth my hands down the front of my bodice. “Y-yes.”

The door creaks when he opens it. My breath catches slightly at the sight of him, immediately forgetting myself. His tailored suit, which I picked out for him, fits perfectly, his tied-back hair emphasizing the beautiful cut of his cheekbones. He is dashing and handsome and more perfect than I could have imagined.

Then I realize that he is likewise taking me in, his gaze slowly traveling over me as I try not to fidget where I stand.

“You’d better like how I look,” I say before I can think better of it. “Because I’m afraid this is as good as it gets, unfortunately.”

A twinkle of amusement enters his irises. “If you are asking whether I prefer you dressed as a woman or a young boy, I do prefer you dressed as a woman. I can admire your figure better this way.”

I’m not sure he could have said anything more shocking to me in that moment. I sputter, unable to think of a reply, and a second shocking thing happens: I realize I am delighted by his statement. “Um . . . well . . . excellent,” I babble. My hands scramble over the dresser, knocking aside the rouge Mary used on my cheeks, until I grab my reticule and slip the loop over my wrist. “Is the carriage ready? We should leave at once. The sun is about to set, and I don’t want—”

He catches my hand as I try to swish past him. I turn around just as he lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it. It’s not the first time he’s done this, but there’s something so forceful about the way he looks at me while his mouth presses against my knuckles that makes this moment feel far more intimate than anything else.

“You are beautiful, Kat. I’ve always thought so,” he murmurs.

“From the beginning?” I blurt. “When I was a boy? You’re lying.”

That one eyebrow of his turns crooked. “If you were a fae and could smell lies, you would know I am not.”

I swallow. “Oh. Well, as I’m not fae, that isn’t verifiable, so . . .”

He smiles and pulls something from behind his back I didn’t realize he was holding. It’s a box.

“Is this another gift?” I protest. “Rahk, I cannot—”

“Hush. This is part of a game.”

“A game?” I perk up immediately. The box at once reminds me of my slippers. Did he . . .?

“I will give you this on the condition that you must wear the contents to tonight’s ball.”

It is the slippers! My grin escapes my guard, and I nod. I shouldn’t keep accepting his gifts, but my fingers shake to hold this remnant of my mother again.

He hands me the box. I take it and rip off the cover. There are Mama’s slippers, shining and gleaming like new. It’s like my whole body fills to the brim with something shining and rich. I pull them out of their wrappings, kick off my own slippers unceremoniously, and bend down to put them on. Rahk gets down on one knee, surprising me with his intention to place them on my feet himself. He stops my misbalanced, awkward attempts and instead gently grips my ankles one by one, sliding the beautiful slippers into place.

“They’re perfect! Thank you!” I lift my skirts enough to show off the glittering glass that catches the evening light. It’s not exactly a modest thing to do, but he’s fae, and has proven that he is not easily scandalized.

He smiles as he surveys them, and then flicks his gaze up to mine. “They belonged to your mother, but they were made for you.”

“I never would have thought they would fit me so perfectly.” I take a few trial steps. They’re even more comfortable than my previous slippers—which I never would have guessed from them being made of glass.

Rahk picks up the box I have left discarded on the bed and hands it back to me, nodding toward it when I look at him in confusion. “You agreed to wear everything in the box.”

I blink. Then I search through the box once more—and find what I missed the first time. It’s a small bracelet of thin silver with light pink and green roses the size of my fingernail arranged along its length. My lips part as I trace my finger across one of the small roses. “Oh, my. I usually don’t care much about jewelry, but this is lovely.”

He smiles, pleased, as I slip it onto my wrist.

“This is too many gifts!” I cry. “You’re making me feel terrible that I didn’t think to get you anything.”

He takes my hand and tucks it into the crook of his elbow. “If you would like to return the favor, then play a game of Fool’s Circle with me later.”

I laugh. “Only if you’re ready to be beaten.”

“I’m ready and waiting,” he replies with a wink as we set off for the ball.

“Lord and Lady Rahk Varadirth,” cries the announcer as we step into the ballroom.

I’ve been dreading this moment. The moment when all the eyes in the ballroom swivel to me. To us—the curiosity of the year. I set my face with my best smile as we enter the glow of thousands of candles in chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Beside me, Rahk is a tall, imposing mountain. He has resumed his own mask—one of utterly unreadable blankness.

I greet everyone I know as we walk into the ballroom. My gaze is drawn almost immediately to Agatha, who regards me with all the warmth of a viper’s sting. She really does hate me. Bridget is beside her, beautiful in pink and lace. She offers a timid smile and a tiny wave, but she cannot hold my eyes before she looks away. Edith peers over the top of Bridget’s head, and seems more interested in Rahk than me. Perhaps she realizes he has a normal nose—and that it is quite handsome.

We pass them, and the rest of the onlookers, and go straight to where Queen Vivienne is seated on her dais. Rahk sketches a bow while I curtsy. The queen looks especially regal tonight in a gown of deep red, her head tipped back and decorated with a silver crown. Her hand strokes the light brown curls of young Prince Lionel beside her. She gives me that same look she gave me when we last visited her—an eyebrow lifted in query. I give her a subtle nod, as I did then, to try to convince her I am fine and am not Rahk’s captive.

As we leave her and I mentally prepare to mingle with those around us, I happen to glance down at my bracelet. The chandelier light has turned the pink roses a purple-ish blue. It’s even more beautiful than before. I try to hide my smile before Rahk sees it and demands to know what pleases me.

A servant brings us each a flute of champagne. We make our way to the wall where we can sip and quietly survey the colorful ballroom. No one approaches us, but everywhere I look, I find more pairs of watching eyeballs.

“Is this where I make your marriage to me worth it?” I whisper to Rahk. “Where I introduce you to all the important people of Harbright and convince them you’re not a bloodthirsty warrior who will murder them in their sleep?”

He glances sidelong at me. “I think they’re more concerned about me murdering you in your sleep.”

I purse my lips. “In that case, I’d better get to work. Come along, dearie.”

I take him to Lord Oliver’s elderly mother. “Baroness! It’s so good to see you. You must meet my new husband, Lord Rahk. Lord Rahk, Baroness Cranswick.”

She surveys him up and down. “Now I can look at you up close! You were much too far away at the wedding and my spectacles are broken. I have such bad eyes that I just couldn’t see a thing. But I see that it’s true that the fae are very beautiful. I don’t blame you much, Katherine.”

“Blame me?” I say lightly, laughing to hide my uneasiness.

“Oh, don’t look so innocent.” She taps me on the shoulder with her fan. Her smile suggests we share a dirty little secret. “You must not be far along in the pregnancy if your waist is still so trim.”

Rahk flinches beside me, and it’s a miracle I keep my smile pasted on my face. Before he can reply or react, I wrap one arm around his elbow, leaning into him, and give a bright laugh. “Baroness! You must have information about myself that I am not privy to! Am I with child? That would be exciting news!”

A stroke of confusion crosses the baroness’s wrinkled face as she sputters, “That was what I heard! Is it not true? Everyone assumed with the wedding being so sudden that a child was the reason. I wouldn’t fault you if it was—he’s very handsome, Katherine, and I am not so old fashioned as many here—and with your fortune, you can make mistakes that others wouldn’t dare—”

The temperature emanating from Rahk reaches near boiling. He remains so placid, so immovable, but I am suddenly very certain that he might explode if one more indecent thing is said about me.

It’s Lord Oliver who rescues us. “Lady Vandermore—er, Lady Varadirth, forgive me—I am glad to see you! You’ve been long gone from court and we have missed you. And Lord Rahk, it has been far too long since we last spoke!”

Lady Varadirth.

It sounds so vicious. So . . . dark and seething. In this particular moment, I love it.

“Lord Oliver,” I say, “I see you have met my husband, Lord Rahk.” I decide not to mention that I did observe them together at the queen’s luncheon while I was still disguised as a servant boy.

“Indeed, I have! We have become best friends.”

“Have you?” I grin up at Rahk, who looks very slightly uncomfortable at that proclamation.

“Lord Oliver has taken great pains to ensure I am comfortable at court,” says Rahk. “I am grateful.”

Oliver turns to me, giving me a friendly wink. “What did I tell you? You thought I was crazy for suggesting that the fae coming to town would want to marry you.”

My replying laugh is only slightly uneasy. I wrap my hand around Rahk’s arm, leaning into him to give the illusion of newlywed bliss. “You’re right. I assumed all fae find our race repulsive. Apparently not!”

“I’m afraid that is a misconception that must be rectified.” Rahk slips his hand around my waist. I suck in a fast breath and then disguise it with a smile up at him. “Our peoples are, fundamentally, not that different from each other. We have enough superficial differences to make the contrary seem true, but the more time I spend in both lands, the more I am convinced that we have a great deal in common. We both, for example, enjoy the company of the clever young lady I am honored to call my wife.”

Of all the things I expected him to say, that was not one of them. I look up at him as he smiles down at me. A giggle that isn’t wholly forced escapes me. I turn to Lord Oliver and say in a loud whisper, as if it’s a secret, “I’m afraid I’ve fallen under the spell of his charms. Matrimony has been a fear of mine for as long as I can remember, but it has proved a delight so far.”

Oliver’s reply is all genuine kindness. “I am glad that you have found a man who treasures you as you deserve.”

His comment touches me. I wish I could thank him for always treating me with respect and consideration, but an appropriate reply refuses to pass my lips.

Rahk steps in to my rescue, addressing the young lord. “You proved yourself worthy at swordsmanship. Have you ever practiced archery?”

Oliver’s face lights up. “Very little, but if you would have an amateur, I would love to learn the art.”

“You must come to my estate then. There are grounds aplenty for target practice. Bring your bow and we shall enjoy the fine weather.”

Oliver’s reply is an eager grin and an enthusiastic nod.

Rahk and Oliver bow to each other, and I offer a curtsy before I take Rahk’s arm and follow him toward the table of refreshments. I happen to turn around and see the baroness’s suspicious gaze. Immediately, my good humor is doused with cold water. I tighten my grip on Rahk’s elbow and hiss under my breath: “The gall of that woman to confront me in a public place over something so patently false! She’s probably the one behind that rumor! She doesn’t care that it could ruin both of our reputations—and halt your work earning the queen’s trust—if you seduced me and lured me into a marriage to steal my fortune. You would be the worst kind of rake!”

“You cannot fault her. She likely hasn’t seen anything so interesting in several decades.”

That earns a snort from me, but it isn’t enough to right my sour mood.

My bracelet catches my attention suddenly. The glass roses have all turned brown—and it’s as though they’ve wilted and curled in on themselves. Only their centers seem alive, with a deep orange glow. I gasp. “Rahk! I’ve somehow broken the beautiful bracelet you gave me!”

He glances down at me, then at it. He lifts my hand to look at the bracelet. At his casual touch on my skin, I flush. The roses immediately uncurl and darken to a deep red. Rahk’s gaze flicks up to mine. There’s a mischievous smirk playing at his lips. “It’s not broken.”

It transforms once more, mirroring my awe as it brightens, the red shifting to a luscious indigo. My mouth drops open. “This is from Faerieland. And it . . . changes with my emotions?”

“Look at you. Living up to the description I just gave Lord Oliver.”

His teasing grin is dazzling. My bracelet returns to the color of my blush. He glances at it, the skin around his eyes crinkling even as his pupils dilate. I stuff my hand behind me, hiding the bracelet from his gaze. “If we weren’t in public, I would whack you for pulling such a dirty trick on me.”

“Don’t let the onlookers stop you,” he replies, and laughs at the face I give him. He takes both of my hands, even the one I try to hide from him, and eagerly pulls me toward the dance floor. “Come, make my long hours of dance practice worth it.”

“I’m not sure you needed those hours. You’re a natural at dancing.”

He wraps his palm against my shoulder blade, mine resting on his arm while our hands meet. He glances at the blush pink of my rose bracelet before lifting his eyes to me. They are warm and full and soft. He pulls me closer—not enough to be scandalous, but still intimate. “I practiced for you. I didn’t want to humiliate you at these balls.”

The music rises to our ears. It’s a waltz. We step into the dance.

“It’s a relief to not have to purposefully sabotage dancing with you,” I say. “I had to work hard to think of the man’s part instead of relying on muscle memory.”

“It was a good effort. I was not fooled, but I might have been, had the circumstances been different. Then again, if I hadn’t known you were a woman, I would not have ordered you to practice with me.”

I laugh. “I thought it was wildly strange. In fact, there were many things you did that I thought were strange, but I hadn’t spent enough time around men or fae to know for sure.”

He shakes his head in amused disbelief. “I was openly flirting with you, Kat. I don’t know how you didn’t realize it.”

His bluntness is not what I expect. I shrug, looking away as my bracelet brightens in color. “I assumed you would confront me if you knew the truth. So when you didn’t confront me . . .”

He shakes his head again, then draws me closer. I try not to let my breath catch too audibly. But the force of his black eyes nearly trips up my practiced steps. “That was your mistake. I like to wait and see how things play out.”

I do my best not to go stiff in his arms. Does he know? Was that his way of telling me he knows everything, and he is waiting for me to tell him I’m the Ivy Mask?

But the saints-cursed bracelet turns a boggy green. Rahk’s head tilts slightly. “Why did my statement frighten you?”

My eyes widen. “Is that what the green means?”

His eyes narrow, but they narrow in softness, not suspicion. “Kat.”

Blast this all. I don’t want to lie to him. I’m sick of lying to him. I desperately want to tell him what I am. This secret between us—it is going to eat me alive. But no matter how much part of me insists that if I tell him I’m the Ivy Mask, we might be able to navigate the situation together, I know better than that. I have so many people relying on me completing these next two raids. I may want to put my future at risk, but I cannot be so cavalier with theirs.

Everything Rahk and I have will crumble when he finds out.

When , not if . Because he will find out.

I opt for as much honesty as I can afford. “I know you always tell me you’re not going to hurt me—and I believe you. It’s only that sometimes, that old fear of you fae returns. Your statement made me afraid that your kindness now is only a ruse. It’s silly, I know.”

His eyes don’t leave mine, even when I cannot bear to return his gaze. “Your family was torn apart because of my people. I know it will take time for you to fully trust me, but I intend to show you every day that I want nothing except your happiness.”

He is too good. Too good for me. Too good to be in this horrible situation he knows nothing of. He may not see it, but I do; Nothril can never corrupt this man.

He will be devastated when he finds out who I am.

The dance ends.

As we leave the dance floor, I notice all the people watching us carefully—Rahk, especially. It’s as though by dancing with him, I’ve broken a spell of fear, and now several people rush forward to me, clearly desiring to be introduced.

“You should dance with as many people as you can tonight,” I whisper to Rahk between introductions. “It’ll greatly aid your efforts with the queen.”

“I’d rather dance with you,” he whispers back, but with a sigh he leaves my side and asks one of his new acquaintances if she would give him the honor of dancing. Her mouth falls open and she blushes mightily but quickly accepts. With her children grown, I don’t often see her dancing. I smile as I watch him escort her to the dance floor.

The moment he is gone, a new presence takes up residence beside me. From my periphery, I can tell it’s Sir Alsbee. The young man who tried to seduce me when I was barely sixteen. He sent a note from a private room, claiming to be one of my friends in need, and I went at once—only to be fortunate enough to pass by that friend reading quietly in the library. Instead of going into the room he summoned me to, I hid in the opposite room until I watched Alsbee finally give up and leave. I have hated him ever since.

So now, when he stands beside me, I pretend I don’t notice him. My bracelet wilts and turns soot black.

“Lady Vandermore,” he says in a syrupy tone. “Or should I say, Lady Varadirth.”

“Sir Alsbee,” I reply crisply.

“Will you honor me with a dance?”

I find Rahk in the crowd of dancers. It is not hard, since he is the tallest man in the room. He’s looking at me. Ignoring his talkative partner. Can he read my emotions from this distance? Or can he see the color of my bracelet? I paste a smile on my face and turn to Sir Alsbee. “I’m afraid I cannot. My husband is a wonderful man, but he is very possessive. He made me promise that I send all requests for a dance to him first. So you will have to ask him if you’d like to dance with me.”

“Blaming your dislike of me on your husband? That’s not very kind of you.” Sir Alsbee tsks his tongue and then takes my hand firmly, apparently counting on the element of surprise or my desire to not cause a scene being enough persuasion to go with him.

I yank my hand out of his at once, glaring at him. “I did not agree to dance with you, Sir Alsbee. I’ve told you what you must do if you wish to dance with me. I will not dance with you otherwise.”

“Katherine, darling, it’s only a dance.” He takes my hand again, grinning with the attempt at appearing good-natured. “I don’t even know why you’ve disliked me so much all these years. Let us make up for the ill will.”

I dig my heels into the polished floor. I don’t care how large and unseemly of a scene I must make: I am not dancing with Alsbee. My bracelet turns so black, it crumbles into dust and falls off my wrist.

Alsbee takes two steps, pulling me after him. On the third step, he suddenly releases me, pitching forward. He cartwheels his arms and whacks a nearby gentleman’s drink out of his hand. His legs fly out from under him, and he falls hard on his back.

Cries of surprise and concern go up. My eyes widen. I take the opportunity to put distance between me and him. When I look up, Rahk is dancing only a few feet away, his attention on me. A familiar light gleams in his irises.

My mouth drops open in delighted astonishment. What did you do? I silently ask him. The corner of his mouth twitches, and then he’s lost in the depths of the many dancing couples.