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Chapter Nine

B riony

“You were gone a long time,” Fly says, eyeing me with suspicion when I find him hanging out with Clare in her room later. “Hmmm … and you have that flush about you.”

“What flush about me?” I say. “I don’t have a flush about me.”

Clare adjusts her glasses and steps in closer to take a better look at me. “You do.”

“Can we take it this means Beaufort Lincoln is forgiven?” Fly crows.

I give him the finger. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Urgh,” Fly says, throwing himself down on the mattress. “You’re the only one getting some and yet you won’t share any of the delicious details with us.” He lifts his head and peers at me. “Please say you did it in his car.”

“We did not do it in his car,” Fly drops his head back down on the bed and groans, “but we did do some stuff,” I say to pacify him. “Although, you don’t have to beg for scraps of information about my love life. You could have one of your own.”

“Right,” he says flatly.

“You could,” Clare says. “You’re really very handsome.”

“In a way,” I add and Fly returns the finger.

“Plus you’re stylish.”

“Talking of which,” he says, rolling up onto his feet with sudden excitement.

“Come and take a look at what your old godmother has for you …” He leads me towards Clare’s closet and opens the door.

Hanging on the other side is a pale silver dress with a beaded corset and light floaty skirt.

The straps are mere pieces of string but Fly has draped a matching bolero over the hanger.

For a full minute I stand there gobsmacked. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so pretty in real life before.

“Where did you get this from?” I ask, running my hand down the delicate gauze material.

“Not everyone in my family despises and detests me,” Fly says, lifting the dress down from where it’s hanging and feeding the jacket and the delicate shoulder straps off the hanger.

“I have one member of my family who actually likes me – my sister-in-law. Don’t get me wrong, she only likes me because I make her pretty dresses when she asks me to, but it means she’s occasionally willing to do things in return for me.

Like sending me this dress so you can borrow it for the ball tomorrow. ”

I shake my head and take a step away.

“Oh no,” he says, wagging his finger at my face, “don’t you start all that stupid nonsense. No,” he holds his hand to his chest and adopts a high-pitched voice, “I couldn’t possibly, it’s too beautiful, I’m not worthy. ”

“I do not sound like that!”

“Try it on,” he thrusts it towards me, “I need time to make any adjustments.”

“Everyone will stare at me in a dress like this,” I protest.

“I gather that’s the idea,” Clare says.

I turn to my other friend. “Give it to Clare. It would suit her skin tone better.”

“Clare already has a dress,” Fly says.

“And I am not thrall to the Princes. You need to look the part.”

“Exactly,” I say, “if I turn up in a dress like this on the arm of Beaufort Lincoln–”

“So he is taking you then?” Fly says, glancing towards Clare with excitement.

“–everyone will hate me more than they already do. They’ll think I’ve grown too big-headed, too conceited.”

“Only because they’ll be dying of intense jealousy because you’ll look stunning and they’ll be in no doubt why you have captured the attention of the academy’s three hottest dudes.”

“I’m not exactly sure–”

“I made this myself, Cupcake,” he says, “if you don’t wear it, I will be severely insulted, heart broken and dejected, and may never be able to talk to you again.”

“Jeez,” I say, blowing out my cheeks, “okay.”

Despite Fly’s complaints that we are all good enough friends to see each other in our underwear now, I usher the both of them out of the room and slip on the fragile dress.

My skin still tingles from Beaufort’s touch and the way he had me falling apart on his lap, and although I know I’m asking for trouble, that I’m falling into the trap I said I would avoid the most, I can’t help but turn and stare at myself in the mirror, wondering what he’d make of me in this dress.

The girl I find in the mirror has me gasping in shock and for a moment, just a fraction of a moment, my mind is fooled into believing … until my senses swoop back. It’s me. Just me. But for that moment, that fleeting moment, I thought it was her.

I run my hand over the tight corset, imagining Beaufort’s hands holding me there, then let them trail down the soft skirt.

I don’t look like me, like some kid from the Slate Quarter.

The usual bruises and marks on my face have been smoothed away by Fox’s magic, my hair is braided around my head like a crown for everyone to see, and the dress pinches in my waist and makes me look like I actually own some curves.

“Can we come in?” Clare whispers from behind the door.

“Uh huh,” I whisper.

“Wow, Cupcake!” Fly says, clapping his hands together. “You look sensational.”

“Like a princess,” Clare says, mouth hanging open.

I don’t know if it was thinking my sister was here with me in the room, or the stress of everything that’s happened over the last twenty-four hours, but a sadness stabs me right in the center of my heart.

I sniff and shake my head, tears burn behind my eyes.

I don’t want to cry, not when my friend has done something nice for me like this.

“What is it?” Fly says, half joking, “is my design and needle work really that bad?”

“It’s beautiful, Fly, you know it is. But I can’t wear it.”

“Why not?” Clare asks. “You can’t really be worried about what others think?”

“It feels like a betrayal,” I whisper. Every glimmer of happiness does. Standing here with my friends. Making out with Beaufort in his car. Going to the ball in a dress far too good for me. It’s all a betrayal.

“To who?”

“My sister. I shouldn’t be worrying about boys, or balls or dresses. I should be out there finding answers. I’m letting her down.”

“Cupcake,” Fly says, resting his hand on my shoulder.

“Your sister sounds like she was a really …” he searches for the word, “kind girl. It sounds like you both truly cared about and loved each other. Tell me, if the roles were reversed, if it was your sister standing here in front of this mirror, would you begrudge her some fun, some happiness? Stars know, we don’t get a lot of it – especially you kids from Slate. ”

“You really think so?”

“You knew her, not me. What do you think?”

“I think she only ever wanted me to be happy. She was always going out of her way to make me happy – to make me laugh or to make me feel better or to ensure I wasn’t afraid.”

“Then she’d want you to be enjoying yourself – as much as it’s possible to – here.”

“But I should be finding the truth. I owe it to her.”

“Is there any reason why you can’t do both?” Clare asks.

“And you know, the more I think about it,” Fly says, straightening the dress a little and pinching in the corset just a tad, “the more I think you’ve been looking at this all wrong.

You want answers about your sister. You suspect shadow weavers may have those answers.

And three of the most powerful want to make you theirs.

Don’t you think that might prove pretty useful? ”

“He’s right– ”

“Obviously!”

“–they might be able to help you, Briony. If you let them.”

“Maybe,” I mumble.

“Definitely,” Fly says, “don’t cut off your own nose to spite your face. You’re pretty, but not that pretty. You couldn’t pull off the no-nose look.”

“And,” Clare says, ignoring Fly’s silliness, “you could also let us help you.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“Cupcake, just being in the same vicinity as you is dangerous. Today I was nearly run over by Beaufort Lincoln,” I cringe apologetically, “the week before I was nearly electrocuted by Henrietta Smyte.”

“I think we may be able to help,” Clare says.

“How?”

“I’m quite good at researching things.”

“Clare, you’re very good,” Fly laughs. “You worked out the first trial was going to be a maze. You have no idea how much that helped us out! And you earned a zillion points.”

Clare blushes and adjusts her glasses. “The next trial isn’t for another two months. There’s no need to start researching yet, which means I could look into your sister. If you’d let me.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?”

Clare shakes her head.

“There we have it then,” Fly says, clicking his fingers. “Clare will be in charge of library research, I will be in charge of costume design. And you, Cupcake,” he bops me on the nose, “will be in charge of seduction.”

“Sed–”

“Uh uh,” he says, pressing his finger against my lips. “No arguing with the master plan.”

Fly insists on spending the rest of his day off making what he terms ‘necessary adjustments’ to the dress, even though I can see nothing wrong with it. The gown appears near perfect to me.

Clare and I debate going for a walk around the grounds or even into the forest, but seeing as the last time we wandered off like that, I ended up struck by lightning, we decide we may as well start the library studies.

“The last time I tried to find a book in here,” I say, “it was as if the library was being deliberately unhelpful, the shelves seemed to be moving around me.”

“Ahhh,” Clare says, “that’s because it is an enchanted library.”

“Of course it is,” I say flatly, “stars forbid the academy would actually have anything ordinary and useful.”

“An enchanted library is useful if you know how to use it.”

“Do you have them back in Granite Quarter?” I ask.

“No, but I read about them …” she giggles, “in the library. Every enchanted library has its own personality – some are more friendly than others, some more secretive, and some down right obstructive.”

“This one is definitely obstructive.”

“Not if you get on her right side.”

“Her?”

“Well, of course, knowledgeable, intelligent, astute – she’d have to be female, don’t you think?”

“Definitely,” I say, threading my arm through my friend’s as we walk up the steps towards the main door.