“You’ve either had too much to drink, or not enough.” Jax’s gruff voice and rough but steady hands assure me it’s him. “So the question is, do you need me to fetch you some water? Or something stronger?”
I rest my head on his chest, inhaling the now-familiar scent of his sweat. This is my last night before I enter the Deadlands. My last night to feel truly alive. I can’t stop now and head inside when the moon is paper white and young and full.
“Neither,” I say finally. “Let’s dance.”
We take it slow, though the music’s pounding beat is fast. As I catch sight of Her Majesty by the cake again, something Hadrien said comes back to me. “Jax?” I have to shout to be heard over the fiddles and pipes. “Did you notice someone looking for me earlier—a girl?”
Jax thinks for a moment, then grunts, “Dark red hair. Nice ass. I remember.”
“Did you get a name? What does she want?” The thought that someone I don’t know is looking for me sends a spike of cold into my chest. It must be someone with news from Kasmira, though she’s never sent a messenger to me before.
“Sorry, Sparrow.” Jax shrugs. “I was talking to Princess Valoria when she came by, and keeping up with her requires my full attention. I’ll be damned if I understood half the things she was saying—something about flying.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I lean against Jax, letting him support most of my weight through the next dance. My legs feel like anchors, and even dragging my feet across the flagstones takes great effort. “If someone’s that determined to find me, they will.”
I’d keep wondering who it might be, if not for my blasted headache. Instead, all I can think to say is, “What was Valoria talking about?” More importantly, “You’re not going to breathe a word about her . . . projects, are you?”
Jax’s lips twitch, but instead of answering, he twirls me around.
As one song blends seamlessly into the next, Jax shrinks down several inches, his curly dark hair turning long and sandy blond. “Simeon!” I blink several times, and from what I can tell, it’s really my almost-brother guiding me through a complicated dance step.
“I’ve been really worried about you,” he says in a somber voice unlike his own. “Danial says you’ve been having night terrors. If you are, you know you can talk to me about them. I’ll understand.”
Of course he would. Simeon was found by one of the Sisters of Death, wandering the Ashes alone at only three years old, wearing a ring on a tarnished chain around his neck that must have belonged to a wealthy family. He’s held on to that ring all these years. And though he claims he doesn’t remember any of his life before the convent, he used to wake me in the night with his screams at least once a week. I don’t know what they were about, only that the nightmares still plague him sometimes.
But the potion I’ve been taking keeps most of my dreams away. “Everything’s fine,” I assure him. “I’ve got it all under—”
“Control,” Simeon finishes for me, flashing a tight grin. “That’s my Sparrow.”
He spins me around, and somehow, Simeon becomes Danial when I turn back to him. Then Danial turns into Evander, who turns into Jax again, faces and colors flashing too quickly for my eyes to keep up. My head throbs with a sharp pain like someone’s bashed me on the temple. Someone else reaches for my hands, but I jerk away. There’s an archway at the back of the courtyard that leads to the palace citrus and floral gardens, the one through which Duke Bevan so recently appeared as a Shade, and I stagger toward it until I can’t hear any voices calling me or see any shadows in pursuit of mine.
I gulp a greedy breath of cool air and sink to my knees beside some rosebushes, stars bursting behind my eyes. Suddenly, my stomach gives a painful lurch, but I manage to swallow the mouthful of bile before it leaves my lips. It burns all the way down.
The second time, I’m not as lucky. I just hope Prince Hadrien and the others can’t hear my sweet noises over the music.
Movement in the bushes deeper in the garden draws my attention. My heart beats a little faster as I slick back my sweaty hair and narrow my eyes at the spot where I think the soft rustling of branches came from.
“Death be damned,” I groan under my breath.
A rotting hand feels its way around a trellis, loose bits of mottled flesh washed with moonlight. The Shade is here. It must’ve crawled out of the Deadlands, though such a thing has only happened maybe once in all my years. Still, this can’t be another hallucination, because its stench overpowers the roses.
I reach for my sword, but just like at the Festival of Cloud, I couldn’t wear my scabbard over my dress. But I’m not completely unprepared this time. From inside my boot, I grab one of Jax’s knives and push myself off the ground, charging toward the Shade.
The hunched monster screeches, unfurling itself to its full height as I lunge with the knife and slice its flesh. It’s not moving at its usual lightning speed. It must not be doing so well with one of its arms missing.
Something sharp knocks the knife from my hand. I grope in the dirt, feeling for the hilt. The sharp thing sears my hand as it cuts deeper. It feels like the monster’s trying to peck me to death, but I didn’t think Shades had razor-sharp beaks.
I lash out at the Shade with both hands, one good and one bloodied, tearing at its flesh the way it tore Evander open and spilled his blood before my eyes.
The Shade squeaks piteously.
“Odessa!” a girl’s voice gasps. “What the blazes are you doing?”
I shake my head to clear it, growling, “Saving the palace from this monster.”
“That’s my aunt’s favorite peacock!” Valoria cries.
I blink, and the monster changes shape beneath my hands. Rotting flesh becomes a rich cape of blue and green feathers, bright as jewels. Beady eyes stare up at me, shining with a plea for mercy. I release the poor bird, backing away with a shudder. One of its wings is mangled, and its right side is scratched and bleeding. Still, it manages to hop to its long yellow feet and disappear into the garden, its trailing tail shedding a few feathers in its wake.
I hold up my shaking, bloody hands and turn to find Valoria staring at me with a mixture of shock and disgust, her glasses reflecting the distant glimmering party lights.
“I came to find you because I thought you could help,” she stammers in a voice that’s slightly off-key. “My mother’s missing. Along with several other Dead who never turned up for the party. I’ve been looking all night, and Hadrien’s too busy to . . .”
I lose the thread of Valoria’s words as I sway again. This time there’s no Hadrien or Jax to catch me, and when I fall to my knees, something slices through my dress. And my skin. It seems I’ve found my knife.