The Yule Ball 

The pandemonium of the Ashleigh Covens seemed to settle down after the summer, as if escape from the roasting heat reminded witches of their patience and humanity. Evelyn let out a deep breath of relief when the threats of riots ebbed into rumors, and then mere whispers that she imagined remained but couldn’t confirm. By the time a cool stream of winter winds and snow settled into Chatham Castle, she’d turned most of her focus back to social events, and left May to deal with the business side of the Ashleigh Covens.

“Blasted thing,” Evelyn said, annoyed by the scratchy feel of pine needles on her skin. She shook the green pointers free from the matching velvet of her sleeve and straightened her white fur collar. All the glimmering gold buttons up the middle of her dress remained aligned despite her struggle with the evergreen bough.

“Perfect,” she murmured with a smile. “I look perfect. The decorations look perfect. This whole Yule Ball is perfect, thanks to me.”

A pair of hands wrapped around her waist and whirled her around. Grant stood there, the first dance of the Yule Ball whirling in dizzying array behind him. A string quartet sang in the background, guiding the dancers in a beautiful rhythm. Candles and torches lit the room in a warm yellow light, but their wax wouldn’t drip on the guests thanks to a complicated spell that Donovan had just taught Evelyn that night. She executed it flawlessly, of course. Few magical spells stumped her natural talent.

Grant smiled, and his perfectly white teeth gleamed. “You look ravishing tonight, Evelyn.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Why haven’t you answered any of my messages? I come by your office every night, but you never answer.”

“I’m very busy, Grant.”

His lips pouted like a little boy. “Too busy for entertaining me now, I suppose. I don’t like you so business-oriented. I want to have fun adventures in Ashleigh City again. I miss your opinionated, impulsive self.”

“I would miss me as well, but don’t worry, I’m as opinionated as ever. Here’s an opinion for you, in fact. You’re looking quite handsome tonight, Grant.”

He wore a black pair of pants, perfectly tailored to his slim waist, with a green velvet vest that matched her own dress to a suspicious degree. No doubt he bribed her seamstress to tell him what fabric she’d used, the silly witch. He was always trying to impress her.

“We are perfect together,” he said, reaching into an inner pocket of his jacket for another cheroot. Evelyn scowled and pushed him away. Grant was handsome to a fault, but he inevitably annoyed her after only a few minutes.

“You would look much more attractive if you didn’t smoke so many cheroots, you know. It makes you smell like weeds.”

He laughed, and it rang out as clear and defining as a bell. “Really, Evie. It’s my one vice. Without it, I’d have to live amongst the gods instead of mere witches.”

“Why aren’t you mingling?” she asked, inspecting the room over his shoulder. “I need this to be the most successful ball of the year. Donovan entrusted it to me because Nell is in the midst of another depressive episode and couldn’t organize anything.”

“You are so beautiful tonight I simply couldn’t help myself.” He moved in closer, clearly intent on nuzzling her neck, but she sidestepped him.

“Not here, Grant!” she hissed, with just a hint of playful enjoyment beneath it, lest he take her too seriously. He might have annoyed her, but she couldn’t lose his support. “Honestly. Would you ruin my flawless reputation?”

“Flawless, is it?” he inquired in a sultry, low murmur that sent a shiver up her spine. He attempted one last play at flirtation, but she ducked beneath his arm with a wicked smile.

“Later,” she said in a low voice of promise. “For now, I must make a grand impression.”

He let out a long sigh. “Oh, Evie. You already have a wonderful reputation.”

“But there’s always room for improvement.”

“Must it always be about work?”

“Yes. It must. Now, go mingle, just like May. Try to find others that might join us in our righteous cause against Donovan. I’ve already secured the loyalties of Rand, Eddy, Gloria, and Milton DeAngelo, amongst a few others. Wayne, over the Northern Covens, is my next conquest. Butter him up somehow.”

Grant straightened his perfect bow tie. “Anything for you, Evie,” he replied drily, though she sensed an undercurrent of impatience in his tone. She brushed it aside. He’d endure. He always did, for she was worth the wait.

Evelyn moved to the top of the ballroom to survey her work. Boughs of evergreen hung at even intervals along the walls, joined by looping ribbons of red velvet tied in a bow at the bottom of each wreath. Freshly washed crystal sparkled across the tables.

“Wonderful,” she sighed in relief. Even May had approved. It was exactly as beautiful as she had imagined it. “Nothing feels so good as having everything work just right.”

If there was one thing Evelyn did right, it was parties.

“It’s lovely, Evelyn!” Stella declared, walking up with a wide smile and bright eyes. A round bump stuck out from underneath her silk dress laced with deep red ribbons. Dale, wearing his Guardian uniform, hovered at Stella’s side, admonishing her at every other step to be careful. Don’t jostle the baby. Watch that rug.

“You look wonderful, Stella.” Evelyn kissed her cheek. “Even with that baby sucking the life out of you, and Dale dictating your every move.”

Stella smiled, and Dale blushed. “Thanks, Evie,” Stella said, laughing. “He’s just concerned for me.”

Despite her pregnant radiance, a definable fatigue showed in the bags under her eyes. Evelyn felt a flash of worry for her friend.

“Are you all right though, Stell? You seem so tired.”

Stella rested a hand on her belly. “I am tired, but doing well. Only a few more months until the baby is out of here.”

“Please take care of yourself,” Evelyn said. “I simply couldn’t live without my two best friends. Can you imagine Mildred and me trying to manage without you? We’d pull each other’s hair out without you there to mediate our arguments.”

Stella laughed. “Speaking of Mildred, where is she?”

“The Yule Ball isn’t mandatory, so she won’t be attending.” Evelyn rolled her eyes. “I’ve never seen a witch so odd in all my life.”

“But we love her for it.”

“Try to eat more, Stell. You look gaunt,” Evelyn said, patting Stella’s belly and turning her most radiant hostess smile on Dale. “Thanks for coming, Dale. You make the ball look even more regal with your Guardian uniform.”

Evelyn chatted with them for a few minutes more. When Stella and Dale drifted to the refreshments table to appease her pregnant appetite, Evelyn wandered through the crowd, merrily greeting and laughing with all she found. The luxurious dinner of such delicacies as roasted lamb, stuffed pheasant, and frozen custard made of the finest cream drew praise from all corners of the room.

While the mingling crowd chattered quietly—only a few of them able to continue dancing after such an elegant meal—Evelyn worked her way over to May on the far side of the ball.

“You’ve really pulled together a true Central Network Yule Ball,” May said, sipping a flute of champagne. “Donovan certainly seems to be enjoying himself.”

Donovan sat at the high table with Rand, laughing so hard his face turned a dark shade of purple around the edges. His usual decanter of dark ipsum wasn’t far from reach, nor was his Assistant, Harold, who stood back in the shadows and waited to be beckoned. Evelyn sipped at a glass of mellow red wine. The overwhelming, heady smell of cinnamon from the scented pinecones had given her a headache.

“Well, it’s all thanks to you running the Ashleigh Covens and doing business in my name.”

May smiled. “It’s my pleasure to share power with you. Just look what you’ve done here! You’ll make a fabulous High Priestess.”

While May’s praise usually made Evelyn giddy enough to float in the clouds, tonight it rang empty and verbose. High Priestess? She was barely getting a good grip on Council Member. Remembering how overwhelmed she’d felt adjusting to her last promotion made her a bit shy of rising too quickly. That wasn’t the only problem, of course.

Evelyn’s stomach trembled when she looked at Nell’s empty place at the high table. For Evelyn to become High Priestess, Nell could no longer exist. She still couldn’t quite convince herself that was okay, no matter what May said.

“Thank you,” Evelyn finally murmured, realizing May was waiting for a retort. She ignored May’s studious gaze, not wanting to explain her sudden melancholy.

The massive Yule log, the biggest the castle had ever seen, still burned bright in the expansive fireplace that kept the room warm. Just a few more hours before it would peter out. They would gather the ash into small parcels and distribute them to the attendees for good luck. Evelyn wondered idly if she’d take one. She didn’t believe in luck. She believed in influence.

“It’s almost time to extinguish the candles and gather around the fireplace,” Evelyn said after her thoughts ran their course. “I’ll be happy when this is over and I can get back to handling normal business in the Covens.”

May smiled. “I didn’t mind running the Covens for a while, Evie. We’re partners, after all, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” Evelyn said with a smile, though she felt uneasy at May’s willingness to include herself in everything she did. “Modern-day Esmeldas, really. Thank you for coming, and for your support. I shall go inform the butler he should begin the final ceremonies of the ball. I’d say it’s been a rousing success that Donovan won’t be able to ignore.”