Page 130 of A Curse of Hope and Shadows: Part I
He loathed and delighted in that coyness of hers, even if his chest ached when she moved away from him.
He grabbed her wrist. “Have you been assigned anything during the ball?”
She shook her head. “Minty has a very strict rota in place to ensure we all get enough rest.”
“Come to my room when the guests are all arranged. There’ll be no one around.”
Adeline paused. “If you wish.”
He shook his head. “No. Ifyouwish. I never want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”
“I… I do want to come,” she said, her voice soft. “It’s just…”
Dimitri’s fingers skimmed the bare flesh of her neck, her head still turned towards the stairs. “I know,” he said. “Nothing feels innocent any more, does it?” He paused, jaw tightening. “Are you still glad we did what we did, that day in the library?”
Adeline angled her face towards his, just a fraction. “I shall be glad of that moment until the day I die,” she whispered, and her cheek turned ever closer towards his. “Dimitri…”
“Yes?”
“I’ll… I’ll see you during the ball.”
A moment later, she was gone, leaving nothing behind her but an icy hole, crackling in the space where her warmth had been.
Chapter Thirty: The Ball
With the promise of finally spending time with Dimitri, the day of the ball could not come soon enough for Adeline. She watched the ballroom transform into a glittering gossamer palace, aided Mrs Harper in the creation of endless towered desserts, and assisted the ladies maids with last minute alterations to exquisite gowns.
She cared about none of the gold, none of the glamour.
I don’t need a ball, or a dress, or a dance.
I just need him.
The night before, her stomach tied in knots as she tried to sleep, feeling like the heroine in a fairytale, as if tomorrow’s ball would change everything. She should not feel this way about spending time with him.
And yet, she did.
Perhaps she should tell him. He would like to hear, she was sure, but once more she risked unravelling too much, like tossing water into a stream. She would not get back that piece of herself afterwards, and too much water and she’d break the banks of the river.
I cannot afford to break.
Day guests arrived in their droves as the skies darkened on the day of the ball, in glistening carriages of black, silver, gold, overwhelming in their decadence. The maids not slated for duty watched them descend from one of the upstairs windows, in rustlings gowns of silk and lace, brocade waistcoats and fluted suits. Music trilled around the manor, from the swirling orchestra in the ballroom to the pipers and bards in the gardens. Lanterns glittered over the black lawns, droplets of white in a sea of ink.
Erabella’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” she whispered.
Adeline thought that she might have, but it was more a feeling than image, a ripple of beauty deep inside her whenever Dimitri so much as glanced in her direction, or smiled, or laughed, or looked peaceful or happy orhim.
Stop this, stop this, stop this.
Determined to keep her mind occupied and off the rota for the rest of the day, Adeline headed to the library. Clarin was once more asleep at his desk, beside a pile of books discarded by the rest of the guests waiting to be restacked. Adeline tutted under her breath and set to work, annoyed at Clarin but secretly thankful for the distraction.
“Not watching the guests arrive with the rest of the servants?” said a calm, cool voice behind her.
Adeline nearly leapt out of her skin. Sitting by the window was a still, ghost of a woman with pale, luminous skin. It carried an almost ice-like sheen to it, no doubt a fancy cosmetic Adeline was unfamiliar with. She was dressed for the ball, but her gown was an unusual design, delicate and billowy, free of gaudiness despite being studded with glassy gems. Her white-gold hair was intricately woven into a half-crown, the rest spilling down her back, and although her voice carried no trace of an accent, she did not speak like a native of Ferdinard.
Suddenly remembering herself, Adeline offered a hasty bow. “My lady,” she rushed. “I apologise if I—”
The lady waved her hand, the action as fluid as water. “None of that here,” she said, as if the bow offended her. “But I would know why you are not with the others.”
