Two girls. Two secrets.
Only one can survive.
Years before Nelle Wychthorn plans her escape, Tabitha Catt may unearth something in a Horned God's lair that is the key to freedom.
Desperate to save her beloved aunt from a dark curse, Tabitha is out t...
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I pushed forward and followed my aunt and Markel into the Banquet Hall, and while they headed one way, I went another. I wove through the wall of bodies, enjoying spying flirtatious glances from men and women from other Houses as they served themselves from the buffet, or filled tankards with beer or glasses with wine. The younger children were running around in excitement and peals of laughter. A few of them reluctantly stood still while their parents cleaned grubby faces and greasy fingers after they'd finished eating. A stream of colleagues flowed from the hall, going outside to cross the lawn to the dance.
I was pretty sure Oswin would be lurking near the food and I was right. His great height put him a head taller than most. He spotted me as I rounded a few of our elders laughing and greeting one another with hugs. Oswin waved to me with a hand wrapped around a half-eaten drumstick of chicken.
My friend was wearing a black suit. He'd obviously wrangled with his tie, trying to loosen it, and the knot sat beneath the shirt collar a little askew. His blond hair had been combed and parted; he'd tried to slick it down smoothly, but it had rebelled and curled upward in random tufts. He was busy scanning the room between bites of food. "Where's Dolcie?" I overheard him ask Beckah loudly, competing with the noise of the hall, before tearing off a mouthful of chicken.
Beckah was dressed in something I wished I was, and my heart heaved a jealous sigh. It was a far more grown-up dress, with a much lower neckline, in a bold geometric pattern of pinks and reds that hugged her generous curves. Her curly brown hair was teased and poofed upward with the help of tortoiseshell combs, and her shoulder pads were glorious. They screamed Dynasty and Joan Collins—my favorite author's sister.
"Sitting this one out," Beckah answered. Strangely, worry shadowed her brown eyes. "She's not feeling well."
My pace faltered as I approached. Was Dolcie not attending the dance because I'd come between her and Tomas?
"Oh." Oswin's expression fell and his bottom lip jutted out a bit. He still sounded a little nasally with the end of his cold but looked so much better. "I hope it's not what I had," he said, swiping a tissue from his pant pocket and dabbing his nose.
"Erm...something like that," Beckah answered vaguely and glanced away.
"What's wrong with her?" I asked Beckah as I arrived.
Her eyes widened, surprised to see me. Oswin was busy stuffing his face with the last of the chicken. Tossing the bone in a trashcan, he meandered over to the banquet table to grab a pulled pork slider.
Beckah touched the curls in her hair, nose scrunching as she replied, airily. "It's nothing, I'm sure."
Suspicion ensnared me. "Beckah..." I said with a low warning note.
She huffed a sigh, rolling her eyes, knowing full well she couldn't evade me; I'd only keep asking. "I don't know what's going on with her," she said, leaning closer to keep it between us. "She won't talk to me about it... I'm sure it's more than just a broken heart. She moves from one boy to the next and it never seems to bother her. But this time, it seems she's really been hit hard by Tomas...or it could be something else entirely."
