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⊹ Book 1 of the Aldergrove Duology ⊹
After being told he has only six months left to live, Clementine decides to track down his sister's murderers, leading him to Aldergrove A...
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Clementine glared at himself in his bathroom mirror, fiddling with the lace on his new blazer. It felt lighter on his person than he had thought it might, but its comfort didn't make him feel as though he looked any less stupid. If Anette saw him right now, he was sure she'd be snickering.
The day had come to a speedy end, and now that the time for making offerings and charms was over, it was almost time for the ball. He wasn't really looking forward to the party part of it, but rather the moment he got to seal Ian's fate. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to take any of the other Ravenblood out tonight, though. Of course, if an opportunity arose, he'd take it, but for now, his focus was on Ian. He had the ground death caps in his pocket, his eagerness was becoming desperation, but he did his best to stay calm.
He sighed, making sure all his buttons were tied. Then, he glanced at his pocket watch—it was time to take the day's last med. He'd already brought it into the bathroom with him, so he placed it on his tongue and swallowed. The bitter, revolting taste scorned his mouth; the gulps of water he took moments after didn't help. He could swear the taste was getting worse with each passing day.
With a grimace and a shiver, he exhaled deeply and started tidying his things away. He put his comb back in his over-sink cupboard, as well as his hair pomade and face wash. Then, he closed the cupboard—
"It looks good on you, babe," Sebastien said, standing right behind him.
Clementine glared at him in the mirror. His white hair was combed back over his head, and his tuxedo was jet black with shimmering gold buttons. His waistcoat beneath it was a dark red, and the rims of his balmoral shoes were gold, too.
"Where's your mask?" Clementine asked him.
"Where's yours?"
He sighed, picking up his horned wolf masquerade mask. "Do I have to wear this?" he complained.
"It's tradition."
"So?"
"So? Yes, you gotta wear it—we all do."
Clementine groaned and barged past him. "What's the plan?" he muttered, heading into his room. He sat on his bed and watched Sebastien walk over to him.
"Well, I trust you know not to get seen snooping around on the top floor," Sebastien said, leaning back against his desk.
"I'm not an idiot."
"I don't know how much soda Ian's got up there, but I think you should try to somehow make sure the bottle you put the mushrooms in is the one he'll drink next."
