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CHAPTER FIFTY

The Debut of Morrigan Darling

‘I just don’t understand why I’m dressed as a swan.’

Morrigan stood before the mirror in her mother’s bedroom, trying not to scowl too hard at her reflection. Her birthday ball gown had been delivered that afternoon, freshly altered by the expert tailors at Bloom Couturiers, and it had taken twenty minutes and the assistance of Aunt Miriam and Aunt Modestine just to get her into the atrocity.

It was floor length, with a beaded silk bodice and a full skirt made entirely of white feathers. Morrigan thought she might have merely looked like a fancy feather duster or a very fluffy bride (both of which would’ve been bad enough), were it not for the small pair of wings attached to her back.

Wings, for goodness’ sake.

‘It’s tradition , dear.’ Aunt Miriam adjusted the enormous skirt, smoothing down the feathers to make sure they were all pointing in the same direction. ‘The swan is our family emblem.’

‘Be thankful you’re not from Culvert House,’ Aunt Modestine whispered in her ear. ‘Their emblem is a crab. Poor Ebony Culvert debuted the same year as me … Her dress had pincers .’

‘Every daughter of Darling House has worn this very dress for her debut,’ Aunt Miriam went on, ‘going all the way back to our Great-Grandmother Augusta. Isn’t that special?’

‘Very special,’ said Morrigan, adding under her breath, ‘Not weird at all.’

‘Oh Morrigan, you look ever so beautiful,’ said Aunt Modestine, her voice catching with emotion. ‘Truly, I think you almost look as lovely as I did on my debut birthday.’

‘Modestine!’ said Aunt Miriam reprovingly, but she was trying not to laugh.

‘What? It’s a compliment, Mim!’

The door opened and Aunt Margot entered, gasping when she saw Morrigan.

‘Oh! Just look at you.’ She held a hand to her heart. ‘You are a vision. Girls, will you go downstairs and greet the guests? I’d like a moment with our niece before the party, if I may.’

Morrigan instantly felt her muscles clench. Pretending to smooth down the feathered skirt, she studied her reflection so that she didn’t have to look at Aunt Margot, until suddenly the woman was behind her in the mirror – statuesque, smiling, impossible to avoid.

‘You look perfect, darling,’ she said softly. ‘We are so very proud of you.’

Morrigan tried to smile, too, but it felt a little wooden. ‘Thank you, Aunt Margot.’

‘Everyone in the district is here! Well, everyone of importance.’ She gave a tinkling little laugh that made Morrigan feel slightly queasy. ‘Do you know, I was just speaking with Lady Choi and Lady Whittaker. They were saying what a charming, lovely girl you are … and how extraordinarily talented . The Grand Old Houses are so enamoured of your marvellous gifts, my dear. You really are a Wundrous thing, aren’t you?’

Morrigan didn’t say anything. She knew what was coming.

‘Lady Whittaker asked me if you would be gracing us with some splendid bit of magic this evening, and I thought – oh, what a marvellous idea!’ Aunt Margot was able to feign a look of gentle surprise quite easily. She had the eyebrows for it. ‘I hadn’t thought of it myself, but it does seem just the thing for your debut birthday, doesn’t it?’

She watched Morrigan expectantly, and it was tempting to say nothing at all. Or better yet, to refuse altogether. I’m ever so tired, Aunt Margot. I couldn’t possibly. It would have been so satisfying to watch her aunt try not to blow a gasket.

But that wasn’t part of the plan.

‘Just the thing!’ Morrigan agreed instead, doing her best imitation of the Darling look of innocent astonishment. ‘I’d love to perform for our guests. In fact, I have something quite splendid in mind.’

Aunt Margot’s relief was palpable. ‘Oh, how wonderful!’

‘I thought I’d save it for near the end of the party, if that’s all right with you? Sort of a finale, you know. Finish the night with a bang.’

‘Something to celebrate the arrival of spring, perhaps?’ Aunt Margot prodded lightly. ‘New beginnings, transformation … That sort of thing?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Delightful! Spring is such a special time, and especially this year – assuming the Skyfaced Clocks do change, of course. The first spring of Basking is an important one in the Silver District.’

‘Because of the Silver Assembly?’ Morrigan asked.

Aunt Margot blinked in surprise, then hastily fixed a smile to her face.

‘That’s right.’ She picked up a hairbrush and began to smooth the ends of Morrigan’s black hair, arranging it on her shoulders just so . ‘It’s not very common to debut at fourteen, you know. Miriam and Modestine were sixteen, and I was fifteen , though I’d been begging my parents since I was twelve . ’ She smiled, shaking her head. ‘But your aunts and I are so impressed with you, Morrigan. Your maturity. Your level-headedness. Your wonderful gifts. We all feel you’re perfectly capable of taking a grown-up place in our family and having a say in consequential matters. Not just in Darling House, but in all the Silver District.’ She paused, waiting for Morrigan to say something, then went on. ‘Carrying the Darling name … your mother’s name … it means something, Morrigan. It signifies that you are an important person, in an important Nevermoorian family. But to your aunts and I, it’s even more than that. Adding your name to the Darling House door would almost be like … like bringing Merry home at last.’ Aunt Margot looked at her directly, and the gloss of unshed tears in her eyes was so convincing Morrigan almost believed it. ‘You don’t have to decide anything now, dearest. But do say you’ll consider it?’

Morrigan nodded, and Aunt Margot beamed at her.

‘Wonderful! Now, shall we go and join—’

‘I think I’ll practise my splendid bit of magic before I come down,’ Morrigan cut in. ‘I want everything to be perfect.’

Aunt Margot’s face gave an almost imperceptible flicker of impatience before she nodded, smiling thinly. ‘Well … don’t be long, dear. Your guests are waiting.’

‘I’ll be downstairs with a smile on my face in no more than ten minutes,’ she couldn’t resist replying.

Her aunt faltered, glancing back as she left, a tiny frown lining her forehead. The door shut softly behind her. Morrigan turned back to the mirror, grimacing at her reflection.

‘Ready to ruffle some feathers?’ asked a voice from the other side of the room, and Morrigan yelped in fright, just about jumping out of her skin.

‘CADENCE! For goodness—’ She clutched her chest, spinning around to see her friend perched comfortably in the middle of the enormous plush bed, where she’d been sitting quietly for the last hour. ‘I forgot you were there!’

‘Don’t get yourself in a flap.’ Cadence couldn’t hold in a snort of laughter at her own joke, flapping her hands like tiny wings (just in case Morrigan didn’t get it).

‘Do not say a word about this dress,’ Morrigan warned her. She slumped down on the chaise longue, folding her arms and glowering at the bedroom door. ‘Did you hear what she said? It would almost be like bringing Merry home at last . As if they ever tried to bring her home! As if Lady Horrible ever cared about my mother. I bet that’s the real reason she ran away to the Republic, because her sister was such a bully. Now she’s a bully and a murderer.’ When Cadence didn’t respond, Morrigan looked over to see her biting her nails with a thoughtful frown. ‘You’re not having doubts, are you? Cadence, she’s poisoning her own mother. ’

‘I know …’

‘And we know she’s prone to violent outbursts! You saw her in the ghostly hour.’

‘I know, I know.’ Cadence exhaled heavily. ‘I just … feel like we’re still missing something. I can see her poisoning Lady Darling, but why Dario’s dragon ?’

Morrigan shrugged. ‘Spite? I told you, she hated the idea of her sister’s husband being a dragonrider. She said so on the night of the wedding, remember?’

‘No, you said’ – Cadence pulled out her notebook and flipped to somewhere near the beginning – ‘quote, “Margot didn’t like the idea of Dario having a job , because she was worried about appearances and propriety.” Not the same thing. She didn’t mind him being a dragonrider as a hobby. And she wasn’t even at the trials today!’

‘That we know of.’

‘Regardless, why sabotage a dead man’s dragon? Nobody’s that spiteful.’

‘Because … I don’t know,’ Morrigan admitted with a sigh. ‘But even you said Inspector Gravely never has all the facts until the very end, right? The culprit has to fill in the gaps, even if the detective’s most of the way there. We’re most of the way there , Cadence.’

Chewing on her lip, Cadence seemed to be considering this when there was a knock on the Wunsoc wardrobe door and seven more people piled into the room, chatting excitedly.

Hawthorne, Mahir, Arch, Francis, Anah, Thaddea and Jack had all worn their fanciest party clothes, as requested. (Lam was disappointed to miss out, but she had a key role to play in tonight’s Operation Guiltghast.) Thaddea’s ball gown of Macleod tartan and Jack’s sparkly silver eye patch were particularly swish … but really, Morrigan thought they all scrubbed up quite nicely.

She was about to say so when they stopped as one to stare at her, all chatter abruptly ceasing. There was a collective inhale that would no doubt have preceded a chorus of very unfunny jokes, but she headed them off with the most furious glare she could muster.

‘If even ONE of you says a SINGLE THING about this dress, I will HURL YOU OUT OF THAT WINDOW. Understood?’

They nodded mutely – even Hawthorne, who’d clapped a hand over his mouth and looked ready to expire from the effort of not commenting.

‘Right. Good. Thank you.’ Morrigan folded her arms and took a calming breath. ‘Everyone’s clear on the plan, yes? Should we go over it again?’

‘Nah, let’s just wing it,’ said Thaddea, looking mightily pleased with herself.

Ignoring the muffled laughter from the others, Morrigan turned to Francis. ‘Did you get it?’

Francis drew a tiny bottle from his pocket to show her. ‘They said it could take a couple of hours to work. Anah’s coming with me, to monitor her recovery.’

‘Okay,’ she said, exhaling in relief. ‘You better go now, then. Here – I’ve drawn you a map. That part of the house should be quiet, but if you run into anyone, just pretend you’re Silverborn. Act like you’re meant to be there.’

‘Swan in like you own the place,’ Cadence added, ducking as Morrigan threw a cushion at her head.

‘Jack, remember to be on the lookout for—’

‘The second I hear anything, I’ll let you know,’ Jack assured her.

Morrigan gave him a thumbs-up. ‘Hawthorne, Mahir: when I give you the signal—’

‘We went over the plan four times already,’ Hawthorne interrupted. ‘Can we just go before all the good food’s gone? I’m starving .’

They entered the party in staggered groups of two and three, immediately dispersing … except Morrigan, who went in last, knowing all eyes would be on her the moment she arrived.

The Receiving Room was elegantly decorated with great lengths of white satin and chiffon sweeping down from the ceiling like the inside of a circus tent. And, just like at Modestine’s wedding, there was an entire flock of swans sculpted from ice.

The worst thing, however, was the obnoxiously large white banner hanging across the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that overlooked the grounds. The words stitched into it in thick, glittering silver thread made Morrigan twitch with anger.

The Debut of Morrigan Darling

So much for having everything just the way she liked it .

‘ There you are!’ Aunt Miriam swooped in to take her right arm, and Aunt Modestine her left. ‘Everyone’s dying to see you, dear.’

‘I’ve taken the liberty of filling a dance card for you,’ Modestine whispered, giggling. ‘ Everyone wants a spin around the floor with the girl of the hour!’

And so began what felt like the longest evening of Morrigan’s life – a torturous parade of dances she didn’t know and people she didn’t like and, Oh, what a BEAUTIFUL gown and, Oh, what a SPLENDID ball and endless, endless questions about whether she’d be putting on one of her charming little shows for their entertainment.

‘Oh yes!’ she replied every time. ‘Just make sure you stay until the end.’

Unit 919 (and Jack) were like satellites. They mingled and moved around each other all night, keeping an eye on Morrigan and the Darlings while watching for a sign of Francis and Anah. Louis and Lottie arrived late, with a thrilling tale of having feigned chicken pox to get out of attending a Spring’s Eve party with their parents.

‘I can’t believe you’re debuting before us,’ Lottie moaned.

‘I can’t believe you’re losing the lintel chain,’ Louis grumbled.

‘I can’t believe you drew red dots all over your faces just to come to my birthday party,’ said Morrigan, who was actually rather touched. (She didn’t tell them she had no intention of being listed on the Darling House door, and therefore would not be losing the lintel chain; there was no time to explain.)

At one point, Cadence signalled her from across the room before slipping through the mosaic-tiled door. Morrigan immediately excused herself, making her way through the throng of guests and out into the wide, dim hallway.

‘Cadence?’ she called softly. A hand reached out from a curtained alcove and pulled her into the tiny dark hiding spot. Morrigan clicked her fingers, conjuring a small flame to illuminate her friend’s face. Cadence looked like she’d won the lottery or been struck by lightning. ‘Are you—’

‘We’ve got Margot’s motive all wrong,’ Cadence said in an urgent whisper. ‘I knew we were missing something! What if she didn’t discover Dario and Gigi … but Dario discovered something about her ?’

‘Such as?’

‘At the wedding, she was rude about him having a career, and he said’– she flipped open her notebook, running a finger down the page – ‘ don’t we all need a creative outlet? Weird way to describe dragonriding. A creative outlet? It’s a sport!’

Morrigan stared at her. ‘Cadence, I don’t know what you’re saying.’

‘What if he didn’t mean his creative outlet? What if he was taunting your aunt, trying to hint that he knew something she was hiding?’ As she spoke, Cadence began scribbling something on a blank page. ‘A secret she couldn’t risk anyone else discov—’

Suddenly the curtain was jerked open, and both girls yelped as Aunt Margot’s face appeared out of the darkness.

‘Morrigan! There you are.’ She was smiling, but her voice was icily tense. ‘You had us all so worried. I thought perhaps you’d gone missing again.’

Heart racing, Morrigan forced herself to give a bland, contrite smile. ‘Um … sorry, Aunt Margot. Just needed a moment of quiet.’

‘And who’s this?’ Her aunt’s gaze had shifted to Cadence, who just managed to hide the book behind her back in time.

‘Nobody,’ said Cadence, before shoving Morrigan out of the alcove and closing the curtain.

Aunt Margot blinked dazedly around the hallway, already forgetting anyone else had been present. ‘Come along, dear.’

There was a faint ripping sound. Morrigan felt a hand reach for hers through the velvet hangings and press a crumpled piece of paper into it. Wary of Aunt Margot’s eyes on her as they returned to the party, she could only glance at it quickly before slipping it into her pocket, puzzling over the two words she’d just read.

LADY HORRIBLE.

The moment the doors to the Receiving Room swung open, Aunt Margot signalled to the band, who immediately blasted a jubilant round of Happy Birthday . She led her niece through the parting crowd and up onto the bandstand to make a flowery, emotive speech that Morrigan, heart and mind both racing, barely heard.

She spotted Cadence re-entering the party and tried to subtly convey her confusion about the note with the tiniest shake of her head. But Cadence merely widened her eyes, nodding in Aunt Margot’s direction.

Then suddenly the room filled with applause, and Morrigan was alone on the bandstand, and all eyes were on her, hungry for entertainment. Her legs felt like water, which was just about the only thing preventing her from running away. That, and the memory of what Squall had said to her the first time she’d stood in this room.

Why not let them see what you’re capable of? Sometimes a healthy bit of fear is a good thing.

With those words somehow dampening her nerves and galvanising her will, Morrigan decided she would start as she meant to go on.

Dramatically.

She threw her reach far beyond her, out into the night sky, grasping for the darkest patch she could see, and used it to weave the abominable swan dress into something that felt more … her .

The transformation started at the hem of the full, feathery skirt. Darkness bled upwards like rivers of ink until the entire dress was a sleek glossy black, with a faint green iridescence wherever it caught the light. The stupid little wings expanded magnificently, and there was a gasp of appreciation from the audience when Morrigan ruffled them out to display a much more impressive wingspan. She caught her reflection in the enormous window and was satisfied that she finally looked as she ought to: not a swan, but a Crow.

Her audience was thrilled – all except Aunt Margot, whose lips were pressed together in a familiar look of contained fury. Morrigan smiled, pausing to enjoy the moment.

But she wasn’t finished. The ice sculpture swans took flight next, spreading their translucent wings to soar around the room with no sense of order. Morrigan didn’t manage to make them form a perfect V, but somehow the messy, flapping chaos felt more appropriate … certainly it felt more dangerous . Some of the guests had to duck to avoid getting hit in the head by a frozen bird.

Her next trick drew inspiration from Saint Nick and the Yule Queen, and the last time she’d watched the Battle of Christmas Eve. Inhaling deeply, Morrigan found the tiny, ever-present spark of Inferno inside her chest and breathed an immense plume of fire. She wove it midair into a golden dragon and sent it flying through the flock of ice swans, melting them in a matter of seconds. The people standing underneath shrieked with laughter and delight as they were showered with fat droplets of water, like rain.

Right on cue, the ceiling lights went out (that was Hawthorne and Mahir’s job). The Receiving Room was plunged into semi-darkness, lit only by candles and the great glowing dragon, which continued to soar above them. Morrigan stepped off the little stage and walked out into the centre of the floor. She made the dragon fly downwards in slow, lazy spirals, pushing the crowd back and clearing a wide circle around her, guiding her audience’s train of thought exactly where she wanted it to be: on Dario Rinaldi.

Morrigan crouched down and pressed her hands into the mosaic-tiled floor, bringing it to life. Not like when she’d shaken it out like a rug, though – this time she was careful and deliberate. The patterned ceramic rippled gently outwards like water in a pond, rocking in slow, lapping waves that ended just before the guests’ feet. The red-tile roses were pushed to the edge, leaving only a swirling pond of blue and green in the middle. Her fire dragon alighted on the surface, morphing into the shape of the infamous golden dragon boat to glide smoothly through the water mosaic.

It was in that moment that the mood in Darling House shifted from delight to discomfort. Morrigan felt the change instantly, and was pleased by it.

She walked to the edge of the circle and, picking up a single piece of red tile, tossed it into the centre of the pond where it landed with a splash. Soft gasps of wonder swiftly turned to horror and shock as the drop of red spread, staining the water. More and more of the green and blue tiles turned to crimson, until the dragon boat appeared to be floating on a pool of blood.

Unhappy murmurs rippled through the guests, and Morrigan heard words like inappropriate and tasteless being whispered in her direction. Good, she thought. The stage was set, and they were ready to embark on a journey together. Ready to find an answer to a question the Silver District had been diligently ignoring for almost four months.

‘Who murdered Dario Rinaldi?’

Morrigan’s voice rang out clearly in the silent room. Her question dropped like a stone into still water, its impact rippling outwards, spiralling through the scandalised guests.

‘Well, wasn’t that … artistic!’ Aunt Margot jumped up onto the bandstand and was clapping enthusiastically, trying to draw her guests’ attention away from the macabre display. Some of the guests joined in the applause, glancing around uncertainly, but most were staring at Morrigan in horror. ‘I think it’s safe to say none of us has ever seen such an extraordinarily … Wundrous display! Thank you, Morrigan, dear. Your aunts and I are so proud of your remarkable gifts, and we can’t wait to see what marvellous, useful things you’ll create with them as you grow up—’

‘I’m not finished,’ Morrigan interrupted her, holding up a hand for quiet.

‘I think that will do for this evening, darling,’ Aunt Margot said, smiling with her teeth but not her eyes. ‘We don’t wish to tire you out on your debut birthday, do we? Back to the dancing now, everyone! Let’s have some more music—’

Morrigan violently hurled her invisible reach beyond her in all directions, and in a flash, every white silk hanging, every red, pink and peach rosebush in the room turned to inky black. Across the top of the enormous glass windows, the silver-threaded words on the biggest banner of all began to unravel at speed. The Debut of Morrigan Darling disappeared, restitching and reshaping itself into a declaration the birthday girl considered much more appropriate, much more promising :

The Deductions of Morrigan Crow