I couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding that trailed me like a shadow. Tanzie seemed just as disturbed; she rode hard and fast, her hooves brutally digging into the snow and ice as if she couldn’t get us away from the cursed demon House fast enough. We crested the mountain and ran full force to the south side of the castle. Gluttony leaned against the railing outside the stables, a cobalt capelet fluttering in the breeze. He watched our approach, one brow quirked.
“Anything interesting happen?”
I dismounted and patted Tanzie’s flank. “What game are you playing at?”
“Currently?” He checked a pocket watch. “The sort where I escort you to your chambers. The masquerade ball begins in a few hours. Your little jaunt almost put us behind schedule.”
My little jaunt into being a prisoner. Before I could quip back at him, he was in front of me, blade flashing as he cut the small leather pouch from Tanzie’s saddle.
“This”—he plucked a flower out and held it up, the silver roots sparkling as they twisted in the light breeze—“is slumber root. Capable of knocking out even the most powerful royal. What sort of nefarious plans do you have for this evening?”
“None.”
“Really?” He sounded disappointed. “You have in your possession a plant most princes fear, and you have no cunning designs on using them against us?” He tossed the pouch of slumber root to me. “Scheme bigger, my friend. Let your inner deviant free.”
“Now that I know what it does,” I said sweetly, “I’ll be sure to put it to use.”
“Good. Now let’s get ready for some debauchery.”
TWENTY-NINE
My beaded gown was extravagant. And heavy. Goddess above, I swore it almost weighed a quarter of my full body weight. A corset was built into the fitted top, and it was tight enough through the hips that I felt as if I’d been dipped in liquid gold. Metal sequins sewn in a series of geometric designs accentuated my curves. Hips, waist, bust. Each section boasted a mix of beads, sequins, and patterns designed to draw the eye.
I twisted in the mirror, admiring the hard work that went into making such a garment.
Champagne-colored silk whispered across my skin. The skirts split in the center, a few inches above my knees, and the beaded portion ruffled over pure, untouched silk. A shiny gold belt with vines and thorns brought an edge of danger to the beauty.
My mask… that was all House Wrath. I’d been informed that the princes could only wear wolf masks, and the rest of the assembly were free to wear whatever they’d like.
The half-mask I’d had made was tasteful. Dark gold with delicate lines of spun glitter, offering the barest hint of snakeskin. I’d left my hair loose and wild, adding a few gold clips to pull it back from my face. I’d just finished the final touches when Wrath walked into the room and halted.
I couldn’t stop the coy smile from lifting my lips as I tossed the needle and thread I’d been holding back into my sewing kit. “It will do, I think.”
His intense gaze strayed to the mask. “Where did you find that?”
I reached up, brushing my fingers against the cool metal. “A proper gentleman comments on his date’s beauty. Not where she found a mask.”
“Are you my date tonight?”
His tone held a note of teasing. Underneath I sensed a thread of tension, though. I tried not to think about where he was last night, why he never came to my room when he promised he would. I had no idea what Lust wanted but could guess the sort of entertainment he might seek and goad his brother into. The sudden tightening in my chest felt too much like hurt.
“You’re escorting me there.” I lifted a shoulder. “I’m not sure what else to call you. If you’d like me to try, I can probably come up with a few choice descriptions.”
“Of that I have little doubt.”
I openly admired his suit. Ebony and gold—his waistcoat also featured snakeskin, except his was made entirely of metal, like chain-mail armor. “Expecting a battle?”
“Only if you ask me to fight off suitors.”
“Where’s your mask?”
He held out an arm. “Enjoy the mystery of it.”
“I am about to be subjected to the honor of having my biggest fear or a secret of my heart torn from me. Enjoying anything about this evening doesn’t feel realistic. I’d like to know what exactly to expect from each portion of the evening.”
“Dinner is next. And I’m certain you will find it pleasing.”
Without offering any more hints, Wrath escorted me down a stunning set of stairs and into a foyer filled with masked attendees sipping from champagne flutes and chatting in hushed tones. The atmosphere tonight was more subdued, but no less enchanting.