Chapter 4

There are servants everywhere, more than I would have ever imagined considering the fact we never see anyone from the castle in town. How they're getting their food and other goods is beyond me, but I'd remember people like this. All of them are beautiful, and all move with grace that I don't think I've seen from any of the people I grew up around.

The serving girl in front of us leads us to a pair of double doors. "This is the ball, My Lord, My Lady," she says, dipping her head to each of us in turn.

"We just go in?" I ask, grasping Pip's lead tighter as I wait for her reply. The dog is doing her best to stand in my shadow, making me a little worried about whatever it is making her feel like this is a necessary way to act. Something isn't right about this place, I just don't know what it is.

"Of course. Help yourselves to any of the food and drink," she replies.

"Would you tell Lord Fallmartin that Bastian and Beatrice have arrived," my brother says.

The girl's eyes widen. "Of course. I didn't realise who you were, My Lord. You should actually be entering through the second door. Let me show you and please accept my forgiveness."

I frown, the confusion setting in even more with her reaction.

I don't dare voice my thoughts, already able to picture the look Bastian will give me if I do.

"You're forgiven," my brother responds as if he's been doing this his entire life.

The girl hurries down the corridor and comes to a stop outside a second set of doors. I'm not sure why it matters that we enter through these ones and not the others, especially when they're so close together, but I don't ask. It seems rude to potentially insult our hosts.

"Please, enjoy the ball. I will inform Lord Fallmartin that you're here." She dips her head and disappears, leaving us in front of the doors.

"What's going on?" I ask my brother.

"We're being treated as the honoured guests we should be," he responds, holding his head up high and seeming as if he was born for all of this. To hear him speak, he thinks he has been.

"But why? We're nobodies from town."

Bastian grabs hold of my arm and pinches it a little too tight. "Never say that again."

"You're hurting me," I say through gritted teeth.

"I'm serious, Beatrice. Never say that we're nobodies again, do you understand? Here, you're Lady Beatrice."

"But why do they believe I'm highborn? What have you done?" No one is going to believe him while we're dressed like this. Our clothes are better than the ones we usually wear, but they're not going to let us pass as highborn.

"You'll find out soon enough," he mutters ominously.

I twist my fingers through Pip's rope, feeling a little steadier from the way the hemp feels between them. The slight burn of the rough fibres against my skin helps centre me, and I can feel as if I can think clearly.

Bastian doesn't seem to have any such concerns about the situation and strides forward, throwing open the doors and revealing the ball within.

I suck in a breath as I take in the room in front of me. Opulent doesn't even cover it. The light from dozens of mounted candles flickers through the air, illuminating a huge ballroom. Down each side are tables laden with food, all of it looking as if it's fit to feast a king with.

And then there are the people. While my dress is finer than anything else I own, I can tell it has nothing on the fabrics the people in this room are wearing. They even outshine the best fabrics the dressmaker in town has. The gowns are intricate with full skirts of many colours, while the suits are just as finally made, with rich cravats and crisp white shirts.

Everything looks as if it's straight out of a dream, and I don't fully understand how I'm walking into it.

Or why these people think I'm a lady when I'm well aware that I'm not.

Pip stays close to my heels, not venturing out to investigate anything around us. I'm glad no one has insisted on taking her away from me, though a quick look around the room reassures me they're not going to change their minds. Several other dogs seem to be accompanying their owners in the room. I'm not alone in wanting canine companionship tonight.

A servant comes forward with two golden goblets on a tray. "Courtesy of your host," he says to me.

Bastian reaches out and takes one of the goblets, indicating for me to do the same.

"Thank you," I say to the server. I look down into the cup, unsurprised to discover that it's some kind of wine.

"Drink up," Bastian says, already downing his cup before setting it back on the tray.

I hesitate, but he gestures for me to hurry up. I don't particularly want to drink it all, but I can see from Bastian's face that he's not going to stop until I do.

I raise the goblet to my lips and take a sip. The wine is surprisingly sweet, and goes down easier than I think it will. I was expecting something like the homemade wine that Da used to make which was always bitter and never tasted particularly pleasant to me.

It's a surprise when I discover that I've drunk it all, and I place the goblet sheepishly back on the tray, hoping the servant doesn't think it was unladylike of me to act in such a way. He doesn't seem to have much of a response, and disappears back from where he came.

Bastian offers me his arm, and I slip mine through his. It's odd to be so formal, and I'm not really sure how I should be acting, especially with so many strangers in the room. I'm not sure precisely what is happening here to celebrate the Golden Moon, but everyone seems to be having a good time.

Pip trots along beside me, seeming a little more at ease, though I can still tell that she's nervous. There's a hesitance to the way she's moving that isn't normally there and I hate to see her like this. It's not like the boisterous dog I know and love. Hopefully, once we're back home, things will be better.

Except that Bastian is convinced that we won't be going home.

I look at my twin brother from the corner of my eye and try to work out what's going through his head. His honey-brown curls match mine, but are shorter, making him appear boyish, but the set of his jaw undoes all of that. He looks determined, though I'm not sure about what. I wish he'd talk to me. We used to tell each other everything when we were children, but everything changed a few years ago. Or maybe it was before that. When Da died. It's like he discovered something about himself that he didn't feel like he could share with me.

"What are we supposed to do?" I whisper to him.

"Mingle," he responds. "Talk to people."

"About what?"

"Whatever they want to talk about, Beatrice," he says, his exasperation coming through his voice. "This is a chance for us to better ourselves, don't ruin it for us."

"I'm not trying to," I respond. "I just don't understand what's happening."

"You'll know soon enough. I wish that girl had found us Lord Fallmartin already," he mutters.

"Who even is he?"

"It doesn't matter," Bastian says.

I'm about to argue with him when the doors we were originally shown to open and a group of people are ushered inside. Most of them are wearing simple party clothes, dresses with bell skirts and smart shirts with black ties. Even if I didn't recognise some of them, I'd guess these were people from town and not more of the affluent guests who are dotted around the room making small talk.

Which is exactly what Bastian wants me to do. I don't know why we used a different entrance than the other people, but it can't be a good thing.

I step towards them only for Bastian to pull me back.

"You're not to talk to any of them," he instructs me.

I give him a tight smile. "Very well." I don't like it, but clearly he has a plan. I just have to hope he returns to being the brother I love dearly after it's been enacted, rather than this nervous version of himself who keeps making demands but doesn't explain them. It's becoming somewhat exhausting to deal with.

I unhook my arm from Bastian's and drift over to one of the food tables, examining the array there. I don't even know what half of the dishes are, other than more impressive than I could ever dream of making at home.

"A little overindulgent, don't you think?"

I jump at the sound of the man's voice, and Pip lets out a protective growl. "I'm sorry," I murmur.

"Is that an apology or are you asking me to repeat myself?" the man beside me asks. He can't be more than twenty, with short dark hair, a handsome face, and more lace on the sleeves of his jacket than I have on my whole dress.

"An apology," I respond. "This is my first time at an event like this."

He nods in understanding. "I remember my first time too, it was like nothing I'd ever experienced before. Do you have a name?"

"Beatrice," I respond.

"Beatrice," he says. "It's pretty. And suits you."

"Thank you? I think. I've never really thought about if my name fits me."

He chuckles. "Well, it does. I'm Marcus."

"It's nice to meet you," I say.

Pip pops her head around my legs and Marcus' eyes light up. He crouches down. "And who might you be?"

"This is Pip," I say. "It's her first time at one of these events too."

"It's good to meet you, Pip," he says, holding out his hand.

She steps forward and sniffs at him before pushing her head into it.

"She likes you," I say needlessly.

"That's good for me, I've heard dogs are excellent judges of character," Marcus responds. "Do you mind if I talk to your mistress again?" he asks my dog.

Pip just gives him a blank look, but he takes it as an affirmative and stands back up.

"I didn't know if I could bring her, but I didn't want to leave her at home," I admit.

"I think she's an excellent guest, and probably much better at conversation than some of the stuffy old lords in here," he says.

I laugh. "I'm not sure you're supposed to say that." A quick look around the room does have me wondering who he's talking about, not one of the nobles appears to be any older than he is.

"Perhaps not, but it's the truth." His eyes twinkle as he says it.

"I don't know any of the stuffy old lords to be able to form an opinion."

"Then you should count yourself lucky. As would I, if you'd agree to a dance," he says, holding out his hand.

I stare at it for a moment. "I don't know the steps."

"I can teach you," he promises.

"What about Pip?"

"Do you have someone you can leave her with?"

My gaze slips to Bastian who is talking to two men who very much look like the stuffy old lords Marcus is talking about, only younger. "My brother," I respond.

"Ah, excellent."

I nod, not entirely sure I want to leave Pip with Bastian, but also not wanting to insult Marcus. And there's more to it than that. Bastian has made it clear that I'm not to embarrass us, and that we've come to the ball in order to better our position and our family. Which means I need to do everything that would be expected of someone here. That includes dancing when asked, and not making a fool of myself.

I take a deep breath and head in the direction of my brother. He'll look after Pip if it means getting what he wants from me. I'm sure of it. And if I get to dance with a handsome stranger, then I suppose it's not the end of the world. Even if I'm still nervous about exactly what we're doing here and what my brother is planning.