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Chapter 64

Nora

Nora had done a lot of things to liven up a boring party in her time. She had used Sabina Lehnert’s yacht to board a shipping vessel that was coming in from Alba when they had run out of refreshments. She’d released all the Skvaders at once at a hunt. But she hadn’t tried lighting herself on fire yet. She would have to keep that one in mind. She had never seen every eye in a place turn to someone so quickly.

She grabbed an ice bucket off the railing where it was balanced, pulling out the champagne bottle as she went. Half the crowd was pressing closer for a better look, the other half was pushing away. There was no time to wonder what kind of trial this was. This was the last trial. The last chance to prove herself.

To prove she was worthy of the heirship.

She landed without slopping any melting ice onto her dress. Champagne ice bucket handling was a talent she had perfected.

The dance floor was in chaos now, every couple around the dancer screaming and staggering to get away. Nora pushed herself swiftly up, largely ignored in the commotion as she pushed toward the girl. But the girl’s partner got there first, stripping off his jacket, throwing it at the girl’s feet to smother the flames.

It did nothing except burn his hands.

“Move!” Nora pushed by him, kicking the burning jacket aside and dumping the bucket of melting ice over the dancer, extinguishing the nascent flames.

But it did nothing for the dancer.

The girl continued to sob, her feet flailing violently as two men grabbed ahold of her, trying to still her. And then, all at once, her legs collapsed under her, and she staggered to the floor.

There was a beat of relief.

And then the two men who had seized her began to dance with the same frantic unwillingness the girl had.

It was spreading. And Nora was running low on champagne buckets.

And then she saw that the closest dancer’s shoes were red.

Nora was sure they had been a black patent leather before. She would have noticed if his shoes didn’t match. And now they were the color of a burning ember in a fireplace. The boy surged forward, grabbing the arms of two of the couples who had been dancing a moment before. Nora read the word Help! on his lips. And suddenly, they were dancing too, even as he collapsed.

The chaos was spreading like wildfire. The unafflicted dancers were trying to run, but the gates to the upper level had been closed, trying to keep this dancing curse at bay. As the affected dancers barreled into the crowd, they infected more people as they rid themselves of the curse.

She watched another man’s feet catch fire. More people’s feet were smoking, sparks flying from their heels. It was spreading too fast. She needed it in one place.

She grabbed the arm of the nearest man with red shoes. And she watched as the color leeched out of his shoes. Her own shoes turned red.

Good grief, red was a vulgar color for shoes.

And then Nora felt her feet begin to move against her will, like they were being tugged by puppet strings that ran all the way through her. Almost in time with the music. And then Nora reached out an arm to a nearby girl, who was twirling and sobbing. “Take my arm!” Nora called out. She didn’t know if the girl heard her or if she just latched onto her out of desperation. The girl stilled, the red leaving her shoes too. Nora released her, and she grabbed another girl, then a young man, catching him by the sleeve and pulling him to her so that she could take on his curse.

One after the other, she gathered the curse, consolidating it into herself, fighting to control her body even as it moved against her. The red had spread everywhere now, her stockings, her dress, they were all the same shade of scarlet, and she was whirling, whirling.

She was getting dizzy, and she didn’t have any idea how to stop this thing.

Her stockings were beginning to smoke, and she could feel the heat rising.

She kept spinning, her mind whirring for an idea. Why couldn’t she think of one? As she whirled, she caught sight of Lotte again, who was shouting something she couldn’t hear over the music.

Her skin was getting hot. Not just her feet, her whole being.

Her body was weary, her vision starting to blur.

And it suddenly occurred to Nora that she was going to die.

For the first time in her life she wasn’t smart enough to outwit a problem. She couldn’t think of a charm, or a clever plan. She was going to burn alive.

But at least everyone else would live.

And then her legs collapsed under her. Like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

Nora was on the floor.

Staring up at hundreds of gaping faces on the balcony above.

An arm with typewriter ink on the cuff reached down for her.

August pulled her to her feet.

He turned her hand over in his. “Nice ring.”