Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

" T his is the last part," Zaharya murmured, lifting the sheer midnight-blue fabric. I couldn't stop the flinch as she raised her hands over my head, which had her frowning as I cursed my reaction. "I won't hurt you, Odyssa. It's a veil; we are not to have our faces visible during the parties."

I nodded, clenching my fists into the sides of the dress. It was silly, the flinch. I knew she would not strike me, and yet my body still had the memory of Emyl's hand meeting my skin. I'd have to do better.

With a wary eye, she resumed her path and draped the fabric over my head, adjusting it so it fell neatly over my face. I almost wondered what the point of the dress was, given that the veil covered me from the top of my head to nearly my feet. While it certainly bathed my vision in blue, it was easier to see out of than I'd expected. It still felt wrong to be wearing it. It felt like a burial shroud rather than a veil.

Perhaps it was.

"Now you are ready," Zaharya said, stepping back to pull her own veil over her body.

I did not feel ready in the least, but there was little choice. I nodded again.

"You'll be at my side for this first night. Stay close, don't linger anywhere too long, and don't speak to anyone," Zaharya said. We left the dressing room as a group and now walked side by side down another set of long hallways. I studied each turn, expanding the map in my head as I dutifully ignored the shadow along the floor that kept pace with us as we walked.

I smelled smoke, and this time I was not fast enough to look away before the Soulshade solidified. A woman appeared, and she was dressed not dissimilarly to me. She reached her hand out towards me, silent sobs shaking her shoulders. Her face never convalesced into clarity, but I also could not bring myself to look at her for long enough to truly tell.

Zaharya did not react, did not break her stride. She did not see the Soulshade. I could not tell if the feeling racing through my veins was disappointment or ease.

I focused my eyes on Elena's back in front of me, on the waves of copper bouncing with each step beneath the veil of blue. The taste of smoke faded along with the apparition, and I let my shoulders relax only slightly. Soulshades were not the only danger here, and vigilance could be the difference between life and death. Mine and my brothers'.

Finally, we reached a small kitchen. Set off into the walls as if an afterthought to the original design, it was barely functional, yet the countertops that lined three sides of the alcove were sparkling stone. No expense was spared, even on tiny kitchens, it seemed. Trays of delicate stemmed glasses and small finger foods were already waiting atop the counters when we entered.

Without a word, Elena, Maricara, and Talyssa each picked up a tray, turning to leave the small space. Their movements were effortless, unhindered by the draping yards of sheer fabric that obscured them from view. Every glance at one of these women, every glimpse of the veils, made my anger gnaw at my spine, growing the pit in my belly. Anger at the prince for hiding us away, for wasting the money on yards of expensive fabric to cover those he deemed beneath him, anger that we were here at all.

Smoke burst across my tongue again, bitter and acrid as saliva pooled in my mouth. I swallowed roughly and tried to look away as the mist flickered once, twice, thrice, by Zaharya's foot. She looked down momentarily before returning her focus to her own tray.

"Do you see that?" I blurted, cursing myself for not being able to hold my tongue. She'd reacted to it, though, unlike with the woman in the hallway.

"See what?" The veils, both hers and mine, prevented me from truly seeing the expression on her face, but they did not hide the suspicion in her voice.

I pointed down by her feet where the shadowy mass had solidified into the form of a large black cat. It sat there, looking up at me with wide yellow eyes and slowly swishing its too-long tail. "That."

She looked down again. "There's nothing there, Odyssa. I just thought I felt something."

The blood in my veins turned to ice. I looked down at the cat again, who blinked at me and then slowly, so slowly, arched its back, stretching in a way that was so wholly unnatural I could not drag my gaze away. It contorted, seeming to grow longer as it stretched, its back reaching higher and higher. Finally, it stopped, settling back down into a sitting position where it lifted its paw and began licking. Its tongue was forked.

I blinked and scuttled away, my back hitting the counter and sending a glass crashing to the floor. The cat merely blinked again at the glass before disappearing.

"What is wrong with you?" Zaharya hissed, stooping to pick up the shards of glass.

"There was…" I shook my head, unable to complete the sentence. There was no way for me to describe what I saw without being labeled insane. "I thought I saw something."

She huffed a laugh as she dropped the broken glass into a nearby bin. "What? Did you see a ghost?"

My silence lingered a moment too long.

Her eyes widened. "Truly, did you see a Soulshade?"

I nodded slowly, lifting my arms up beneath the shroud to wrap around myself in anticipation of her answer. "It looked like a cat. But I've seen others here too."

She recovered quickly, stepping up closer until our fronts were almost touching. "I would keep that to yourself, Odyssa."

"What do you mean by that?" The question was out before I could stop it. "And can you not see them?"

"This castle has secrets, Odyssa. Ones it does not want you to learn. I advise you to not go searching for them." Her warning was ominous, made worse by the fear visible in the whites of her eyes, bright even obscured by the veils. "And no, I cannot see them."

"Do you know why I can?"

She titled her head, looking a bit like a doll in the long veil that moved with her. "Likely the marks, I would presume. You came close to death, closer than I perhaps, and now you can see those who have passed on."

My tongue felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

"How many have you seen?" She lifted her hands and spread them out. "Here, around the castle. How many Soulshades have you seen?"

"Just two so far. But there are far more in Jura."

She let out a long breath. "Well, don't go looking for any more. I mean it."

"Do the other girls have marks? Is there anyone else in the castle who has fallen ill while here and survived?" I hoped the widening of my eyes would aid in selling the innocent curiosity. I hoped the shroud would aid even more.

Silence fell over us and a chill ran down my spine like spectral fingers.

"Odyssa—"

Clanging from down the hall interrupted whatever she had been about to say. I wanted to curse whoever it was, but when Talyssa, the one with eyes like sapphires and hair like burnished copper, entered the room, already seeming to curl in on herself, I couldn't find it in me to be cross with her. I wanted to reach out, to reassure her that I meant her no harm, but I couldn't bring myself to speak. I needed that comfort for myself, I supposed.

"I apologize for interrupting, but Zaharya, we need you down there." Talyssa kept her hands clasped in front of her, her head bowed as she spoke.

"Come, Odyssa," Zaharya said, pushing back into standing. "Take one of those trays and follow my lead."

My heart thundered against my rib cage, but I wiped my damp palms on my dress and reached through the slits in the sides of the shroud.

"Wait." Her hand came out to rest on my wrist and I barely caught the flinch in time, pushing it back down into my bones before it could escape. Her touch lightened, along with her voice. "You did nothing wrong. Be calm. We need to find you gloves to cover your marks first, that's all."

I wanted to ask why they needed to be covered, why they should have to be hidden when they meant I had survived. But I said nothing, nodding instead. The prince, too concerned with his parties to even set his own coronation, would not want that reminder of the suffering he left his people to.

Moments later, my hands and arms were covered up the elbow in lace gloves so intricate you could not tell the underlying swirls of my marks from the design of the lace. Beneath the shroud, it would be impossible to see the difference.

With my Death marks now appropriately covered, Zaharya placed a tray filled with small pastries in my hands and adjusted her own shroud before leading me out of the kitchen.

I felt the music long before I heard it, the deep notes vibrating in my bones and shaking the tray as we neared. As we entered the ballroom, I was grateful for the willpower I'd cultivated over the years. My steps did not falter and the tray did not shake in my hands, even as my mouth opened slightly and my eyes widened to take in the scene before me. The awe quickly faded and my mouth clamped shut, the vein in my forehead throbbing once more. Smoke washed over my tongue, and I kept my focus on Zaharya's back.

The midnight-blue material that covered us was clearly not a standard uniform but specifically chosen for tonight. It matched the room perfectly. The ceiling of the long arching ballroom was clearly intended to be the centerpiece of the room, adorned with swathes of deep, midnight-blue velvet drapes that cascaded down the walls, creating the illusion of a starlit sky as the room stretched out on either side of a large, raised platform, arching down on either side.

My eyes followed the fabric down to the walls, embellished with intricate tapestries embroidered with depictions of some of Veressia's gods—Kalyx, god of Death; Ratka, goddess of war; and Jaryk, god of the wilds—their likenesses interwoven with silver and gold threads that caught the light and gleamed like distant stars. Tall candelabras stood sentinel in corners, their flickering flames casting dancing shadows.

The floor, polished to a glossy obsidian sheen, reflected the starry ceiling above, and at the center of the room, a sprawling black marble dance floor, encircled by ornate wrought-iron railings resembling twisted branches.

It was beautiful. It was horrific. I could not decide how to react.

"There you are; I'm starved!" A man's deep voice behind me made me startle, but I kept hold of the tray. "Good god, you're a skittish one, aren't you? Best not let the prince see, hmm?" He swept nearly all the pastries into his large palm and spun away, disappearing back into the fray.

My anger spiked at the careless indifference of the man, and I bit down hard on my tongue to keep from responding. Already, I was threatening to break the rules Zaharya had given me. I stood there, watching as the other revelers followed suit of the man, smiling and laughing with each other as the music picked up, spitting out a lively tune. People began dancing as they laughed, entirely unhindered as they twirled around, ignorant of the bloodbath occurring just below their gilded walls.

Zaharya had moved away, now standing at one of the long tables that spanned the sides of the room. With one last glance at the growing crowd, I rushed to her side. She raised her head at my approach. "You may be wearing a veil, but you need to be mindful of your expressions, Odyssa," she murmured, resuming her task of setting out glasses on the velvet tablecloth.

I hurried to help her, ducking my head to hide my face from any curious stares.

She stretched her hand out from her veil, setting it on mine to still my movements. "I know how you feel. You cannot show it here, though."

"It's horrible," I murmured, pulling my hand away from hers and continuing to set out the items on our trays. All these people, easily numbering a thousand, were reveling in the opulence and wealth while their kingdom suffocated. It was obscene.

"It is."

"Why does he do this? Why won't he take the throne and help his people?"

"You shouldn't ask such questions where anyone can overhear." Her words were barely more than a whisper, but I heard the caution in them. An unspoken warning, and one I both appreciated and cursed. I needed information, and I could not get that by being cautious.

We lapsed into silence as we unloaded the last of the trays before she led me around the room to collect the already empty glasses from those attendees. Wine was certainly not in short supply here inside the castle, not as it was down in the heart of Veressia. Down there, outside these walls, everything was in short supply, including hope and joy. Yet, here, as with everything else, it thrived in abundance.

Zaharya appeared at my side suddenly, thrusting her own tray full of empty glasses into my hand along with my own. She leaned in close to me, her eyes flicking about the rest of the room. "Get back to the kitchens now. The prince is coming, and you should not be here for that now. You will not be able to school your reactions to him." I stood there clutching the trays, frozen, my eyes still fixed on the crowd of crooning and celebratory revelers. "Odyssa," she hissed, finally pulling my gaze to her. "Go. Now."

The sharpness of her words pierced through the haze of my stupor and I nodded once, before making my escape to the small door at the back of the room. She was right; if I was unable to school my features well enough in reaction to the prince's chosen partygoers, I certainly would not be able to control myself in the face of the Coward Prince himself.

I fully intended to go back to the kitchens, but the smoke burned my throat and my steps faltered. The cat reappeared, sitting directly at my feet. It looked up at me, tilting its head before turning and walking away. Only a few steps away, it looked back over its shoulder, once again revealing just how wrong it was as its head was nearly completely backwards looking at me.

"Am I to follow you?" I asked, the words coming out on a disbelieving breath.

If a cat could smile, that one did.

I followed the cat down the hall and up a short staircase until we stopped in front of another small alcove. Unlike the ones deep in the tunnels, this one had a balcony overlooking the ballroom, though it and the alcove were both cloaked in shadow and set in the back of the room. No one would see me up here from the ballroom below, and I would be free to watch them as I wished.

The cat leapt up onto the balcony handrail with ease, turning her back to the party.

A trickle of sweat rolled down my spine as I set the trays down on a small table nestled in the corner and stepped up to the balcony next to the cat. I wanted to rip the shroud from my body, to tear away the gloves. It was all so suffocating, the fabric heavy and itchy.

"Oh, little friend," a deep male voice cooed. I tensed, my eyes flicking about the alcove, but no one was there. "What are you doing here this evening?"

The feline equivalent of an eyeroll followed the rumbling voice, the cat sending me a look of exasperation that should not have been possible. And with that, the cat disappeared.

Rushing to the balcony where she'd been, my hands wrapped around the wood, the lace of my gloves scratching against my skin. I searched for the cat, but there was nothing. No flickering mist and no burning smoke on the back of my tongue.

A metallic glimmer caught my eye down on the ballroom floor. In the corner of the room stood a man dressed in all black, seemingly ignoring the theme for the night, as the rest of the partygoers were in outfits that were over the top and elaborate interpretations of the night sky. His outfit was simple comparatively. A black coat with silver buttons running up the front of it over a black shirt and fitted black trousers tucked into black boots.

The top of his face was obscured by a mask in the image of a skull, but one that had been dipped in molten silver, catching the light and casting shadows across his sharp jawline.

He stood out for more than just his attire, too, as he was the only one not dancing. Instead he stood, studying the rest of the room with a frown upon his lips. Others gave him a wide berth, dancers avoiding the bubble around him as if there were a physical barrier around him. One couple stumbled as they neared him, hands tightening on each other as they passed back into the crowd.

The small act of rebellion against the apparent norm of the ball was appreciated, but regardless of if he was enjoying himself or not, his presence here meant one thing and one thing only. He was friends with the prince, and that meant he would not be any friend of mine.

As if he felt my stare on him, his head turned and he looked up, directly at me. The frown morphed, pulling up at the corners of his lips into a crooked smirk. The smirk grew slowly as he watched me, pushing off the wall completely and turning his whole body to face me. Even from here, I could see the white of his teeth as his smirk morphed into a full-blown smile.

Every muscle in my body froze, and I was unable to look away. It was impossible. Surely he could not see me, not through the shadows I was cloaked in and the distance between us. Perhaps he felt someone looking at him, but he should not have been able to look up and find me with such immediacy. Yet he had.

"Well, who are you, little wolf?" The voice sounded as if it were right beside me, but there was no one. There was no taste of smoke and ash on my tongue, no feeling of a body beside mine. My eyes still fixed on him, I watched the masked man's lips move in time with the words I heard beside me. I felt the words on my ear, his breath washing over the side of my neck, sending shivers down my spine that I was not sure were entirely from fear. "Not to worry, I'll find out for myself soon enough."

The gasp left me before I could stop it, and I clutched at my chest and staggered back, trying to keep from making another sound. I could see him laughing down below, and for a split second, I wondered what it would sound like as his head tipped back and he raised his glass in my direction.

Picking up the ends of the fabric that kissed the floor, I whirled and all but ran back to the safety of the kitchen. An illusion I knew, given how the man had spoken to me, but my choices were limited, and at least I could convince myself otherwise for a moment.