“What do you mean?” I sit in the chair beside her. Ky has already taken his station at the bottom of the grand staircase, acting the guard he’s supposed to be.
She places one hand on her stomach. “I am with child,” she breathes. “Just a couple months along.”
Every inch of me wants to regurgitate. “Did Haman—?”
“No, my darling.” A glance over her shoulder. “We, Makai and I—we went to the courthouse last year. Married in secret. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t. How would I explain myself?” The pink in her cheeks is embarrassment and excitement. The glass over her eyes sorrow and wonder.
What does this mean? Isabeau. And Haman. I cup my hand over my mouth. He meant his promise. He’s going to try to take Mom’s baby.
“Jasyn found out,” my invisible uncle whispers from somewhere behind. “He’s promised not to harm us—the child, you, me—as long as your mother serves him forever. The terms became binding with a Kiss of Accord.” He nocks each word, letting them soar like arrows.
“I have already agreed to your terms.”
“Mom. How could you do this?” I can’t decide who I’m angrier with. Jasyn for his sick, twisted bargain. Or Mom for agreeing to it. “If you’d just waited a little while longer, my rescue would’ve been your ticket out. You could’ve taken the baby and disappeared.”
She blinks back tears. “I’m tired of running. What I saw in you before you returned for the boy, it ignited something within me. I’ve spent eighteen years hiding, cowering, always looking over my shoulder. No more. If you can be brave, so can I.”
Covering my hand with hers, she faces forward. I want to tell her it will be over soon. Jasyn will be dead, the Void captured, and her agreement will no longer matter. But I can’t. My burdens do not belong to anyone else but me.
The quartet stops, and a hush swathes the crowd.
Movement along the first balcony demands my attention. Every few feet a Soulless steps forward, brandishing a trumpet and raising it to his lips.
In unison, the trumpets blast a brief overture, encored by an echoing silence.
“Get ready,” Mom says. “He’s here.”
THIRTY-FIVE
So Much of Me
Showtime.
Two tuxedoed Soulless roll a red carpet from the top of the grand staircase all the way to the throne. The edge flushes with its feet.
Jasyn steps to the room’s summit, dressed to the nines in a 1920s-style tux complete with tails and white gloves. He descends, surveying the crowd, taking his time as if wanting everyone to catch a glimpse of his splendor.
Get over yourself already.
Once atop the dais he rotates and spreads his arms wide. “My people,” he bellows with bravado. “I am so glad you could join us.”
No applause. Nothing aside from the frightened expressions of a community that spent years under this man’s oppression.
“Please help yourselves to the hors d’oeuvres making their way around the room. The entertainment will begin soon.” I have a good guess his entertainment is just another word for torture. “For now, I invite you all to join me in a celebratory dance to commence this momentous occasion.” Clap, clap.
An up-tempo waltz straight out of a Jane Austen film leaps from the quartet’s strings.
Nobody moves.
“Feeling shy, are we?” Jasyn asks. “Please, I insist.” Pause for dramatic effect. “Dance.” He waves a hand and Soulless come out of the woodwork, withdrawing weapons and coaxing couples into submission. Men and women join hands across the dance floor, one-two-three to the music in perfect, synchronized time. Nobody protests, either too afraid to use their Callings in defense or unable to. Ky said he can’t control Soulless. Does that mean none of the Callings are effective on the creatures once they’ve turned to the Void completely?
Except . . . mine was. On the beach. Transitioned or in limbo, every soldier halted pursuit when I began my song.
I scan the crowd for Joshua. Where is he?
My grandfather turns, smiles at Mom and me. “I must say, I was delighted to hear you had returned. I knew you would, of course.” He offers a gloved hand to Mom. “It would give me great pleasure if you would accompany me in this first dance, Elizabeth.”
Who does he think he’s fooling?
Mom folds her arms and avoids his gaze, scowling. “I’d rather be torched by Dragon’s breath.”
I stifle a snort. Okay, I shouldn’t be laughing, but Mom is awesome.
His jaw twitches. “That can be arranged.”
I rise and lay my hand in his. “I’ll dance with you. After today I probably won’t make it to senior prom.” Though the décor does remind me of last year’s winter formal.
I didn’t have a date—no surprise there—but Mom insisted I go for the experience. Joshua said he’d take me, but as soon as we got into the cab, he hijacked the outing. Whisked me off to Sardi’s for dinner, a reservation he’d apparently made weeks in advance. Afterward we ended up at the Angelika in SoHo, butter greasing our fingertips as we snickered our way through a marathon of the most cringe-worthy movie musicals ever created, including but not limited to Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog and Xanadu.
I’d welcome another night of laugh-induced tears and stitching side aches over a stuffy dance any day.
Regaining his composure, Jasyn eyes me, one brow peaked. “All right.”
Together we walk to the center of the floor. Taking the lead, my grandfather sets a hand on my waist and lifts our joined hands in the air. Blech. Did he pour an entire bottle of cologne on himself this time?
I reach up and place my fingers on his shoulder, trying to maintain as little contact as possible. He twirls us and, to my awe, I don’t trip or fumble. Much.
I scan the crowd. Still no sign of Joshua. Is he okay? Has he spent the past week agonizing over what has transpired? Is Jasyn waiting until the proper moment to reveal him?
“What is distracting you so?” Jasyn dips me back.
“I was just wondering where Joshua is.” Might as well be honest. “I was hoping to dance with him before—”
“Before I reveal the true coward he is?”
I scowl. “He’s no coward. He will capture the Void.”
“We shall see.” He ceases our waltz. “I will grant your wish, but only if you bestow mine.”
Uh-oh. “Which is?”
He withdraws, brushing off his lapel. “I want to see you dance with someone else first. You did bind your life to his, did you not?”
Jasyn wants me to dance with Ky for his own perverse amusement? I should refuse, tell him where he can shove his sardonic wish. “Fine.”
“Very good.” He beckons Ky.
“Yes, Your Sovereignty?” He bows.
“Dance with the birthday girl, will you? I am going to have a chat with my daughter.” Jasyn takes his perch on the throne.
Haman stands beside it now, bodyguard and torment commissioner rolled into one. Ebony’s there, too, decked in a ruby miniskirt, a strapless sequined top, and a black leather jacket that halts at her waist. She sits, ankles crossed, in the chair farthest from Mom. When Ebony catches my eye, a haughty grin curls the corners of her mouth.
Is she really so bent on revenge? Can’t she see what Jasyn’s doing? He has no limits. At some point he’ll inject her with the Void too.