Sadie Madison and the Boy in the Crimson Scarf

16 | The StarTrain

Wisps of ivory cloud began to form in the early evening sky.

The world turned from blue to gold as the three wise cats congregated to watch Larissa dress Sadie in a heavily embroidered ballgown. The bodice shimmered with copper, wrapped tightly over the chest, blooming like a luscious mauve flower as it floated towards the floor, ensconced in fine silver lace.

Sadie frowned solemnly.

Her mother busily laced the back and fastened a safety pin to stop it slipping. The dress had once belonged to Natalia, but Sadie had yet to fully grow into it.

"I look stupid," she complained bitterly. "I want to wear my black skirts. And my black tights. And my black cardigan. I look like a Christmas tree. I'll never be able to perform wearing this!"

"Tonight is important, Sadie," Larissa said, dismissing her daughter's complaints. Jabbing several pins between her teeth, she mumbled, "Please hold still."

Despite this, excitement about the Winter Festival fluttered in Sadie's heart. Thoughts of Vulpes and her father—thoughts that lurked beneath a rattling trapdoor, fingers rising through the cracks, promising to break free—were pushed to one side.

The grandfather clock chimed six times. It made Larissa jump, then sigh, her fingers working faster. "We're out of time," she said. "I supposed this will have to do."

Sadie shrugged, lifting the dress off the floor and trudged onto the landing.

Below, Michael fastened his bowtie, slipping his arms into an old dinner jacket. His outfit had been handed down too—from Grandfather William no less—and, at one time, had been quite resplendent. Staring at himself in the hall mirror, Michael attempted a smile, a mischievous raised eyebrow.

Natalia and Eli joined their sister at the top of the stairs.

Eli was buttoned up beneath the chin in a black suit, crisp white shirt and green velvet bow-tie. His hair had been slicked off his face, making him look like another person all together. But, true to form, his Monster Magnifiers hung round his neck, notebook in hand.

Natalia had coiled herself in pink and silver—a floating cough sweet—her hair swept up in a mind-bending algorithm and fixed with hand-carved Sandarac hairsticks whose jade terminals twinkled like distant moons.

Sadie and Natalia floated down the stairs, their dresses brushing each step with a gentle shwoosh. Eli trudged behind, a look of mild irritation on his face. Michael took him into the library to adjust his bowtie while Sadie and Natalia waited for their mother in the living room.

Sadie sat on the green velvet couch next to Oliver. Natalia gave him an awkward smile before picking up a copy of The Iron Bridge Illustrated News and skimming the pages for anything remotely interesting.

"Have you seen this?" Natalia said, suddenly waving the newspaper. "This article on you is wonderful." Sure enough, Cassandra Monkton-Corpse's gushing editorial dominated the centre spread beside a pictogram of Sadie at the piano. "Great pictograms," Natalie went on. "You should cut them out and put them in the family album."

Sadie finished fastening her heavy black boots, which she hoped to conceal beneath her dress, and stomped across the room. She took the newspaper from her sister and, kneeling on the floor, spread the pages before her.

Winter Wonderchild Wows the Shadow Valley.

She turned her attention to the pictogram opposite which dominated the entire page. Sadie's sunlit face shone with concentration, her fingers a blur upon the keyboard, her tangled hair thrown over her shoulders. The faces of her audience hung like ceremonial masks on a museum wall. She found Atticus and the three wise cats curled up by the fireplace, the faces of Cale Boswick and Arnold Tomes pressed to the window.