Claus

Forty-Three

She let the fabric unfurl, revealing a long dress with flowing sleeves that cuffed at the wrists. "The ball?"

         He nodded and held up a crown made of bone with spires shooting up around the ring. Attached to it was a veil that matched the dress. It would cover not only her face but her hair as well.

         Cassian turned as she stripped down to only her underwear. "Peter's attending the ball. You'll leave as if you're one of the guests."

         She tugged the sleeves up her arms. "I know where Nick is. We can tell the Spirit Court. There won't be a need to sneak me out."

         Cassian faced her, the crown still in his hands. "If you say where he is, it won't convince them you're innocent. They'll think you're trying to frame your mother."

         Faryn's heart sunk, and her cheeks warmed. Would she ever be able to clear her name? "We have to get to him though. He's locked up. If he starves, it really will be murder I'm wanted for." She smoothed out the dress. There were no buttons or zippers to mess with. It was long enough that it would hide that she was wearing boots and not slippers.

         Cassian placed the crown on her head, his fingertips brushing her hair and neck. "Peter's the one matching you."

         "Clíodhna?"

         "Scouting."

         He opened the door, and once he determined it was safe, he offered Faryn his arm. Taking a deep breath, she rested her arm on his, and like that, he become a guard escorting her—a guest—through the hallways that felt like a maze.

         Klaus was at the ball. Would Jack and her uncle be in attendance as well?

         They passed a guard stationed along the wall, but he merely nodded his head to Cassian. Once they had rounded the next corner, the Fata asked, "How's your dancing?"

         "As long as its only waltzing, I can manage."

         Two hallways later, they stood before a large stone archway, threaded with crystal like her cell. Through the arch was the ballroom, and though Faryn could only see a small portion of the crowded room, she could tell it was a cavern, one in which a soccer field would fit.

         Dancers twirled by in a flourish of fabrics, dancing at a much faster speed than Faryn had ever attempted before. It wasn't that she was a bad dancer. She was just an inexperienced one, and most times when she'd had the opportunity to dance in the past, she'd find every partner taken before she even had the chance to swallow her embarrassment at not being asked and try to ask someone her herself. It would leave her feeling that she wasn't pretty enough—that she wasn't desirable.

         Across the ballroom, balconies, carved out of the stone, held guests in vibrant blues, inky blacks, and smokey grays lounging against the railings. As Faryn drew closer to the arch, she could see some were holding blue and red champagne glasses. It was a relief to see many of the guests were also garbed in veils though they all didn't look like hers. There were other colors to match the other dresses and suits. Some were white and looked more like cobwebs than fabric, and the crowns that sat on top of them ranged even more than the fabric. There were more crowns made of bone, but many were made of crystals or glass.

A dancer whipped by, her crown made of black seashells.

         Two guards were stationed on the sides of the arch, their eyes fixed on Faryn and Cassian. She was fairly certain the one on her right was a Dalaketnon. He was definitely an Elf, but his scent was different than what she had smelled before. The other guard, was a Fox Thorine, three tails sweeping down her legs.