Page 43 of Echo North
Mokosh and I strode down a grand hallway and then a wide, sweeping stair into the ballroom. The entire back wall was filled with huge, multipaned windows that looked out onto a snow-covered countryside. Hundreds upon hundreds of candles danced overhead in massive chandeliers, and from some hidden balcony music curled into the air, elegant and light as wildflowers in the summertime. The floor was marble inlaid with gold.
Lady Adella stepped into the ballroom just behind us, and a tall, black-coated gentleman in a blue masque bowed smartly over her hand. She took it, stiffly, and he led her out onto the dance floor.
“Over here, Echo.” Mokosh tugged me away to the edge of the room, where the people who weren’t yet dancing chatted and mingled, sipping wine in crystal glasses.
The music and candlelight washed over me, and I wondered what it must be like to live in a palace, to be fawned over and courted for one’s beauty and riches. To not have to worry about villagers’ accusing stares. My fingertips twitched to the left side of my face, whispering across the masque and the smooth, unscarred skin that only existed here, in a world that wasn’t real.
A sandy-haired gentleman wearing a dragon masque came up to Mokosh, and bowed low. “Dance with me, my lady?”
Mokosh beamed at him, and took his hand. They spun away to join the other dancers, and I was left alone.
I paced toward the windows, watching as the sun sank slowly westward, red-orange shadows spilling across the snow.
“It’s very beautiful, to be sure,” came a voice at my ear, “but are you certain you want to dance and eat iced cakes on the eve of revolution?”
I turned to see a tall stranger dressed in dark green, his masque the shape of a white bear’s face; the masque looked somehow sad, but his voice was familiar.
“Hal?”
He gave me an elegant-yet-exaggerated bow. “I thought I’d fool you for longer than that.” He loosed his masque and there was his face, smooth and laughing, his blue eyes flashing in the candlelight.
“I’m very hard to fool,” I told him, smiling.
“So I belatedly see.” He offered me his hand and I took it, startling a little when my fingers touched his skin—it was smooth and warm; neither of us were wearing gloves. His hand curled around mine and he led me out into the midst of the dancers.
I didn’t know the steps to this particular dance, but Hal taught them to me, his other hand solid and strong on the small of my back.
We danced, not quite in time with the music, and I could feel our pulses, beating together in our joined hands. Mokosh danced on the other side of the room; she’d already traded partners.
“I remember my family,” said Hal then, quietly. “I wanted to tell you. I haven’t always been like this. Stepping from book to book.”
I held his gaze; for some reason, it made my stomach lurch. “What do you remember about them?”
His eyes turned thoughtful. “My mother is beautiful. My father is stern. I think I have brothers and sisters. But I haven’t seen them in a long, long while. I don’t even know their names.” His voice cracked.
I studied his face and wondered, for the first time, what he looked like in real life. What lines and scars did the book worlds smooth away from him? “I’ll help you find them. If I can.”
He gave me a sad smile. “I’m afraid I might have lost them a long time ago.”
Mokosh whirled by in the tide of dancers, and waggled her eyebrows at how close Hal was holding me. I flushed, and was glad when the dance drew us apart again.
“Did you say we’re on the brink of revolution?” I asked Hal. “I didn’t pay any attention to the description plate.”
He grinned. “Oh yes. I’m afraid the festivities are cut short in a shockingly gory bloodbath. I read ahead.”
I laughed. “Is it soon?”
He held me a little closer, and some impulse caused me to lay my head against his chest. His arms were warm and strong. Secure.
“Not until midnight,” he breathed into my hair. “We are quite safe until then.”
I leaned into him, all the air in the room swallowed up in the sensation of his heart beating quiet against mine.
We danced awhile longer, then retreated into a corner where pillows had been strewn over the floor. We sat together, sipping currant wine and nibbling the aforementioned iced cakes, which were delicious.
“Do you remember where you come from?” I leaned back against one of the pillars, brushing cake crumbs from my skirt.
He was sitting close to me, but not as close as when we were dancing.
