23

The sisters didn’t offer us tea the following evening. And Cobie and I didn’t have to pretend to go to sleep.

We dressed with the freinnen after dinner, but this evening, there was no giddy scramble through the wardrobes. Tonight, we all wore Cobie’s signature color.

The twelve of us—Leirauh and the hertsoh’s nine daughters, Cobie, and me—wore gowns in a multiplicity of shapes, cuts, and lengths. But every last one of them was black.

Leirauh’s was stunning, off-the-shoulder, worked with silver beads that shone like stars. Cobie’s gown was simple, its jet silk loose around her lean frame, with thin shoulder straps.

The gown Margarethe lent me from Greta’s closet would not have suited Potomac. With its long sleeves and full skirts, I would have sweltered in our summer humidity. It would not have suited me in Potomac, either—at least, not as the girl I was. Its skirts were heavy with feathers, its waist and bodice paneled in black leather. Black pearls buttoned up the back, and the shoulders were ornamented with epaulettes made of obsidian beads. My rosary fit into a small pocket in the skirt.

It was a gown. But it looked—it felt—like armor.

I had never been fond of black. But I’d never loved anything more for a night like tonight.

Sitting in front of one of their dressing tables, wearing Greta’s gown and Hannelore’s shoes, I lined my eyes with kohl and painted my lips red, the only spot of color on me besides Torden’s engagement ring on my index finger. I rubbed the back of the band, wishing he weren’t a sea away, an empire apart from me.

What would he think of me, in this gown, with this plan spooling out before me? Would he be proud of what I was about to do? Or would he condemn me as his father had, a traitor and a spy?

When Margarethe pressed a circlet of black pearls onto my head, I didn’t protest.

I’d once thought to myself that I hadn’t been born to wear a crown. But the mirror reflected a girl I believed could walk into a room of resistance fighters and negotiate. A girl who could sit down with Gretel and her Waldleute and hold her weight on the other side of the table.

I looked powerful.

“You look like Midnight herself,” Margarethe said, smiling grimly.

“Midnight is a woman?” I asked with a laugh.

She shook her head. “Hope that you never meet her.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” Cobie said with a laugh. “I’m impressed. But not surprised.” She squeezed my elbow, grinning tightly, looking tired. “Remember—you float just fine on your own.”

Tonight, Cobie and I did not slip out after the freinnen. We did not swim across the river in silence or borrow a boat under cover of dark, did not slip into the ball quiet as secrets.

The twelve of us left together, rowed out of the belly of the Neukatzenelnbogen and up the Reyn together, docked together. We disembarked and stalked through the woods in one long, silent line, an unkindness of ravens in our black gowns, Leirauh on my left, Ursula on Cobie’s right.

The revelry didn’t exactly cease when we entered, but the musicians seemed to hesitate; the partygoers startled as we strode inside, an assemblage of beautiful wraiths.

The freinnen dispersed through the room, Margarethe pushing back her long hair and murmuring something about looking for Fritz, and turned me loose to work my magic.

Now, we simply had to wait.

The dance soon reassembled, and the party carried on around us. Lang came out of the crowd, straight for me.

“They found you out,” he blurted, looking around at the freinnen. Lang planted his hands full on my shoulders, broad palms and lean-boned fingers splaying across their breadth. “You didn’t say anything at dinner—”

“No—I mean, well, yes,” I said quickly. “But it’s all right.”

I hadn’t said anything to Lang, hadn’t let on that anything had changed.

I told myself it was for fear of giving anything away to Perrault, who was ignorant and needed to remain so for his own safety. Or, worse yet, to Duke Maximilian, who still eyed me with suspicion, the foulness in his expression running as deep as the rot in the castle walls. But I couldn’t tell Lang my entire plan, either.

I wasn’t angry at Lang, exactly—not anymore. But we had butted heads since we’d set out for Shvartsval’d, striking out at one another again and again. I’d learned caution. And I couldn’t risk him interfering.

He stepped back and studied me, eyes narrowing. “You’re terrifying.”

“That’s what Margarethe said.”

“You and Margarethe are friends now?”

I smiled at Lang and he raised an eyebrow, drawing back a little as if surprised, as if to take me all in. I lifted my chin and let him.

We danced, and I watched the room, waiting for my time to move. The freinnen were scattered, but it was impossible to miss Leirauh. Admiring eyes watched her wherever she went, black gown floating around her soft figure.

Above, finer than all the jewels and clothes in the room, the stars wheeled through the sky, crows circling beneath them. I watched them as I spun, my stomach reeling as we moved in opposition to one another, kaleidoscopic and dizzying.

“Selah?” Lang’s voice was quiet, barely a breath on my skin. I returned my eyes to earth and found his brows arched over his stubborn upturned nose and his delicate mouth.

“What is it?” We switched partners briefly, and my pulse quickened as we came together again. I glanced around, wondering if he’d seen something. Or someone.

“You just look so—serious.” His dark eyes skated over me, as if he were trying to sketch me out. “Older.”

“It’s all the black.” I grinned.

“No, it’s not that.” Lang’s feet followed the dance, but he seemed to hover over me, too close. “I wish you weren’t here,” he blurted.

My heart kicked painfully against my ribs. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you distract me.” Lang’s fingers curled around mine. My pulse jumped as he brought my knuckles to his mouth, his sweet-bowed upper lip parting ever so slightly from the lower.

I ached, remembering once again the night I’d gone to his room to search out his secrets. Remembering the pictures of me spread across the floor.

“This was all easier when I could pretend you were a child.” Lang’s voice was quiet but so heavy. “Just a job. It was so much simpler before.”

“Before I knew the truth?” I asked. “Before I made this my problem, too? I’m not a child, Lang,” I said as evenly as I could.

His throat bobbed. “Manifestly not.” Lang eyed Torden’s ring on my index finger. I squeezed my fist shut.

Perrault had insisted I was unpromised. Regardless of what Torden and I felt, we were not engaged, and I clung to that distinction. My place on this side of that fine line made me not a traitor to Torden, whatever of him still belonged to me.

Guilt stung me at the sight of the ring. Guilt, and frustration.

But was I only an adult—a worthy participant in this mission, in Lang’s eyes—because Torden had made me so?

I pushed my anger aside and let anticipation fill me instead. Lang would see, soon enough.

Some part of me had wished for this since the day I had met him. To prove to him—the handsome young captain who’d traveled everywhere—that I could handle myself.

There was something sweeter about earning admiration from those reluctant to grant it.

Then, over his shoulder, I saw her.

Gretel was exactly as Margarethe and Fritz had described her.

The freinnen had not told Lang who she was. But seeing her now, it was impossible not to notice the deference the other partygoers paid her. Lang might notice, too, if he was looking.

I had to get to her first.

“Margarethe will be looking for you,” I said to him.

“Forget about Margarethe.”

“We can’t. Not yet.” I cut a glance over to where the oldest of the freinnen waited with Ursula and Hannelore. “Go to her for now.” I stretched up, whispering in his ear. “You and I have time.”

Lang bent his temple to mine. His skin was warm. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted with you,” he whispered. “Time, and a chance.”

And a little part of me wished for it, too.

Guilt and want pinched me near to bruising.

I lifted my chin and kissed Lang softly on the cheek. “We’ll have it.” I nodded at Margarethe. “Now go.”

His midnight eyes watched me for a beat before he left me. And as he walked away, I shoved all my feelings aside.

This was the moment I’d prepared for. My one chance to make all my pain, all the days and miles, worthwhile.

When I was sure Lang wasn’t looking, I nodded at Fritz—at Hansel. It was time.

The night air swept over me, clearing my head as Fritz strode my way. “Are you ready to begin? Or do you need more time?” He glanced at Lang, crisp tone belying his evident curiosity.

“No,” I said. “I’m ready.”

This was my quest. It always had been.

I straightened my shoulders and met Gretel’s gaze.

“Well, now.” Her voice was high and sweet as it had been on the radio all those weeks ago. “What have we here?”