CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
RED LIGHTS CAST A FIERY GLOW on the dancers and made the black floor and walls shine like dark blood. The music was loud tonight, throbbing like a giant heart. The air smelled of charcoal and cinnamon, and Viv couldn’t take more than a few steps without dodging a lurching devil, or waving a puff of smoke out of her face. She almost wished she had Henley there to carve a path through the crowd for her. But she could never bring him to the underworld. Henley would lose it if he met Jasper. And she still didn’t know how much Jasper knew about Henley.
She wasn’t sure what to tell him, either.
Viv made her way through the packed club to the middle of the dance floor, where the Twelve Dancing Princesses and their partners danced together in an endless display. The princesses wore ember-colored dresses with jagged hems, layers of chiffon that flicked the air when they twirled. The eleven underworld princes wore black suits shot through with veins of red, like lava flowing over rock.
It was still early, and the couples moved in perfect unison. The princesses and princes wore adoring smiles, pressed their noses together, kissed and laughed and never missed a step. All except for the princess who danced by herself, swaying like a candle flame, her eyes sad one moment, angry the next.
Viv lingered, caught up in their performance, until she felt hands on her shoulders and turned to find Jasper. He wore a parchment-colored suit covered with black calligraphy. Italian. Viv guessed it was from Dante’s Inferno. Jasper looked so genuinely pleased to see her, she felt a surge of hopefulness. Like maybe there was something to this destiny thing.
He hugged her, warmth flooding her as he bent his head to speak into her ear. “I’m so glad you came. Do I have you for an hour or the whole night?”
“I don’t know yet. It depends on how interesting you are.”
He laughed. “Do you feel like dancing? Can I get you anything? A drink? A room?”
“A room?”
“A room in the palace,” he said, shouting to be heard over the music. “In case you’ve decided to stay.”
“I haven’t decided anything.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to convince you!”
“You can try!”
He never fully let her go. His hug relaxed into more of a dance posture, and he spun her around the floor until their cheeks glowed and she was dizzy, laughing. More than once she bumped into one of the twelve princesses and the girl and her partner gracefully stepped out of the way, but when she bumped into the solo princess, the girl bared her teeth and shoved Viv away with a motion that was like a slap.
“What the hell?” Viv said.
“Ignore her,” Jasper said. “She’s bitter about the curse.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“We have the freedom to stop dancing. She doesn’t. You’re about to be rescued—and who knows how long she’ll have to wait? She only thinks about her own pain. As if there aren’t Cursed who have it worse than she does.”
“You don’t like her?”
“No, I don’t!”
All the shout-talking was giving her a headache, so Viv pulled Jasper off the dance floor and out of the club, stopping just long enough to grab a gold drink from a tray on her way out. The liquid sloshed around in her martini glass and spilled over the side, staining her fingers a shimmering gold.
“What is this, nail polish?”
“Yes, Viv, our club serves nail polish to the guests.”
“Well, I don’t know. This place is weird. And I can’t tell what this is.”
“I know you’re afraid of being poisoned, so let me ease your mind.” Jasper raised the glass to his lips, tipped it back long enough to swallow a mouthful, and handed it back to her. “There. Wait ten minutes; we’ll see what happens to me.”
“So you’ll be my taste tester? Check everything I eat for poison?”
“If that’s what you need. Now tell me, why are we out here? Sick of dancing?”
“Sick of yelling. The music’s great to get lost in, but if we want to talk it’s better out here.”
“I don’t mind talking.” He smiled.
“Is there anywhere we can go? Like …” She glanced around innocently, as if she didn’t know that underworld civilization started and stopped with the nightclub and the palace. “A coffee shop?”
“Uh, no, we don’t have anything like that. But we can go to …”
Guests flowed around them: tacky devils and Royals in red lace, a ballerina in a flame-blackened dress, a soldier in a suit that looked like melted tin. While Jasper tried to decide on a destination, Viv studied his face. She wondered when he would start confessing things, and when she would start telling him things he didn’t want to hear. She wondered who would hold out longer.
One of the guests—a woman in a low-cut red evening gown, with an expression that said her dress was more ready for this night than she was—sidled up to Jasper. “Prince—you’re one of the princes, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but you’ll have to excuse me. I’m busy right now.”
“It’ll only take a second,” the woman said. Or was she just a girl? Her face was young, her makeup bold and clumsily applied. Flecks of mascara clung to her cheeks, and though her neckline exuded confidence, her nails were bitten down to the quick. “Is your father around? I thought—I hoped—I heard he came to the club sometimes.”
“He never comes to the club anymore.” Jasper’s voice was tight, distinctly unfriendly. “And you don’t want to meet with him. Trust me. Come, Viv, let’s—”
“Oh, but I do!” The girl lunged and caught his arm before he could leave. “I do. I know you probably think I haven’t thought it through, but I have. I just need his help with one thing. It’s not going to escalate. See, I brought this bracelet—” She tugged it off her wrist to show him. “It’s jade. It was my mother’s. It’s the most valuable thing I own. Do you think he’ll take it?”
Jasper’s tone was even colder than before. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you. You should go home.” His fingers clamped around Viv’s and he pulled her through the crowd of guests, away from the girl.
“Please!” the girl cried after them. “Do you know where I can find him?”
Jasper ignored her and kept going, up the steep path that led toward the palace. The path was empty, as if the guests sensed it was off-limits. Viv turned to see if the girl would follow them, but she was talking with someone else, showing them the bracelet.
“Jasper,” Viv said. “Who’s your father?”
“He’s someone who helps people with things.”
“That’s really vague.”
He sighed. “He’s just my father. What do you want me to say?”
“His name and his curse would be a start.”
“I was really looking forward to getting to know you tonight. Not talking about him.”
“It’s a simple question.”
“Well, maybe it’s not a simple answer.”
She stopped walking, and loosed her hand from his. “That’s not good enough.”
Jasper reached out and grasped both her hands. He looked sort of contrite, ready to start over. “You wanted to talk. Let’s talk. We can go to the palace.”
“All right.” Maybe his father would be there and she would find out for herself who he was. In any case, she’d learn more than what Jasper had told her so far.
The palace looked like a cathedral, or a wicked fairy’s lair—not a home for Prince Charming. Gargoyles crouched on ledges and the windows were made of alternating diamonds of red and black glass. The front of the building was covered with glossy black ivy that turned out to be butterflies upon closer inspection. The butterflies weren’t clustered there, resting; they were more like … glued, their wings shiny and stiff like they’d been coated in lacquer.
“Are those—?” Viv started, before she answered her own question. “That’s disgusting.”
“They’re dead; it’s just decoration. Come on. Don’t look if it upsets you.”
Inside, the darkness gave way to white marble floors and glittering gold. Gold trees grew up from cracks in the floor, their branches heavy with gold blossoms, gold birds, and gold beetles. Massive chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their hundreds of candles dripping hot wax onto the floor and causing everything in the hall to gleam.
“Someone likes gold,” Viv said.
“My father.”
“So he’s … helpful and has a tacky sense of style. That’s two things I know about him.”
“Keep your voice down.”
“Why? Is he here?”
“I don’t know, but if we run into him he’ll ruin our night.”
“So he’s a killjoy? Or just an asshole?”
“You sound like you like the idea of him bothering us, but I promise that you won’t.”
She stopped provoking Jasper then, and followed her reflection in the dozens of gold-framed mirrors that covered the walls. She watched for another person in the glass, and wondered what an underworld king would look like. In Beau Rivage, kings wore anything from suits to designer loungewear. But Jasper and his brothers wore signet rings and silver sashes; they took their royal blood seriously or, at least, wanted to ensure that their guests did. If Jasper’s father appeared, would he stride into the hall wearing an ermine-trimmed cape and a bejeweled crown? If he liked gold, he probably liked gems, too.
Their steps rang out in the high-ceilinged hall, but no one appeared to greet them. It was eerie not to encounter a single living creature. “You don’t have a dog or anything?” Viv asked.
“No. Animals don’t do very well down here.”
“Don’t do very well meaning…?”
“I don’t know. We’ve never had a pet. But I’ve always gotten the impression that it isn’t a good idea.”
“And how do people do down here?” Might as well start somewhere.
“They do just fine.”
Lie number one, on either Jasper’s part or Owen’s. She didn’t want to think Jasper would lie. Owen seemed more the type to mess with her. But he’d also seemed upset when he talked about his parents.
“So, can we look around?” Viv said. “I’ve never been in a palace.”
“Never?”
Her eyes wandered. Mirrors, mirrors, everywhere. A hundred reflected Vivs leaping from gold frame to gold frame. “Never one that wasn’t a museum.”
“I could show you around … but I was hoping to introduce you to someone. Someone very special to me. Are you interested?”
“It’d better not be a girl in a glass coffin. If you have a dead girl collection …”
“Viv … don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re disturbed. I don’t have a dead girl collection. I don’t have any kind of girl collection.”
“Good.”
“And I’m not sure why you thought I might.”
“I know people who have them.”
“If you say so.…”
They came to a wide, sweeping staircase. “It’s upstairs,” Jasper said. “The place I’m taking you to.”
“So mysterious. Any other surprises?”
“Considering how little we know about each other, I’m sure there will be endless surprises. But I don’t have any others in mind.”
They climbed until they reached the second floor. The corridor there was carpeted with a red velvety material and covered with impressions of footsteps. Every ten feet there was a door with a gold Roman numeral on it—a I, then a II, then a III …
“All the way up to twelve?” Viv guessed.
“Thirteen, actually.”
“Interesting. What number are you?”
“Seven. But we’re going … here.”
They stopped at the door marked VIII, and Jasper let himself in without knocking.
It was a bedroom, dark and gothic and yet somehow cozy: the furniture upholstered in red velvet, the unmade bed showing sheets of black silk. A black-haired girl in a long white dress sat on the window seat, her head bowed over a book. She was wearing bulky headphones, and saying something in … Italian? It sounded like she was repeating after someone. A pair of crutches leaned against the wall.
She was absorbed in what she was doing and didn’t notice them come in. Jasper crept up to her and flopped down on the window seat. The girl’s body jerked, startled, and she pulled off her headphones so they hung around her neck.
“Jasper! It’s so early! Why are you home? Did something happen?” She leaned back to get a better look at him. “Oh, you’re wearing the suit! I bet I can almost read it!”
“How much Italian have you learned?”
“Grazie. Amore,” she said, exaggerating the accent.
“You’re missing something obvious,” he said, poking her in the shoulder. “Either that or you’re being rude.”
“Why are you poking me? Honestly, just tell me why you’re here—” Her head turned toward the door finally and her eyes met Viv’s. “Oh! This must be Viv! Come and sit by me! We’ll get rid of this creature.” She shoved her book onto Jasper’s lap and then pushed his shoulder as if to knock him off the seat.
“Hey!” Jasper said. But he got up and made room for Viv. “Viv, this is my sister, Garnet.”
“Hi,” Viv said. She sat down as she’d been told, and Garnet giggled.
“Those are very cute—your devil horns.”
Viv touched her headband. “Oh, thanks.”
“Did you know that in one of the dancing princess tales, the princesses spend the night dancing with devils? And they do more than dance—they go to bed with them, all except for one princess—and when their father finds out, he has his daughters executed. Isn’t that atrocious?”
Viv had spent too much time fixating on her own curse to familiarize herself with every version of every fairy tale. “That does seem like overkill.”
“Overkill, yes.” Garnet laughed. “The dancing princesses’ father loves killing people. Beheading the suitors who fail to break the curse, that’s the best known. But there have been tales of the king beheading his daughters when they denied where they’d been, or burning them at the stake once he discovered they’d been dancing in the underworld.”
“The curse was viewed differently in the past,” Jasper said. “Ladies disappearing all night, going to another realm, consorting with devils …”
“Do you think we’re devils, Viv? Oh, oh—this is where you tell me that Jasper’s a handsome devil!”
Jasper shook his head. “You’ll have to excuse Garnet. I usually give her a pass on her bad jokes, so she hasn’t learned to make any good ones.”
“Be nice to me or I won’t let you hang out with us,” Garnet told her brother. “I’ll order you out the door with my imperious princess voice.”
“And I’d have no choice but to go.”
“That’s right.”
Viv wondered what Garnet’s curse was, or whether she even had one. She was trying to decide if it would be rude to ask. Garnet seemed pretty chatty and welcoming, but people could be sensitive about their curses.
“Do you like chocolate, Viv? Marzipan? Jasper, get one of my candy boxes down, will you?” Garnet pointed at her bookshelves. “I make him put them up too high for me to reach so I don’t eat them all at once and make myself sick. Am I talking too much? I am. Sorry. It’s just, there’s never anyone to talk to. Other than Jasper, I mean. Never anyone new.”
Jasper opened a two-tiered candy box and held it out to them. “And aside from being her candy fetcher and an audience for her bad jokes, I’m next to worthless to this girl.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Garnet sighed. “If only Minuet could be here. Then it would be perfect.”
“Minuet?” Viv asked.
“Minuet is one of the Twelve Dancing Princesses,” Jasper said. “The one without a partner.”
“My princess,” Garnet said. “Didn’t Jasper introduce you?”
“We met,” Viv said, wondering why Jasper had failed to mention it. “I must have missed her name. Um—” Viv hesitated.
“Yes?” Garnet said.
“You’re not at the club. But you have a Twelve Dancing Princesses curse? How does that work?”
“I’ll show you.” Garnet lifted the skirt of her dress to reveal one pale leg ending in a satin slipper. “I had both legs when the fairy marked me, but I lost one to an accident when I was nine. And since losing a leg or a foot breaks a dancing curse, I’m no longer compelled to dance. But there’s a princess who’s meant for me, and I still believe we’re destined to be together. I can’t woo her on the dance floor, so Jasper keeps her company most nights. He’ll have less time now that you’re here, but I don’t begrudge him that. He’s been my hero long enough—haven’t you, Jasper?”
Jasper gave a weary smile. “I suppose.”
“So you’ve never met your princess?” Viv said. “You haven’t gone to the club to talk to her?”
“No. I would like to. I have thought of doing that, but—I don’t like to leave my room. I don’t like to be out where my father might see me. I prefer to stay out of sight, out of mind. So he can’t find anything else wrong with me, and—fix it.”
Garnet looked away, and the pain on her face was clear enough that Viv knew better than to ask what she meant. But she wanted to. She was trying to put things together, figure out who Jasper’s father was and whether he was a villain or just an overly critical parent. Materialistic, bad relationship with kids, helps people …
“I just have to wait and hope that Minuet and her sisters decide to stay in the underworld.” Garnet hugged a red velvet pillow to her chest. “This curse is full of damsels in distress. The Twelve Dancing Princesses are waiting for someone to seal the door to the underworld and end this. And meanwhile my brothers and I are waiting for our princesses to choose us—so we don’t have to spend our lives alone and unloved. You’re so lucky. You and Jasper both. You’ll have the fairy-tale ending everyone wants.”
“We are lucky,” Jasper said, taking Viv’s hand.
Viv tried to smile. She didn’t feel lucky; her curse had torn her life apart. But she knew she was luckier than some. Her prince was here, introducing her to his sister, trying to include her in his life. There were Snow Whites who had it much worse.
“Even if your princess doesn’t decide to stay,” Viv said, “that doesn’t mean you’ll be alone your whole life. There are other princesses. Other girls.”
“Oh, but they couldn’t stay. They wouldn’t. Maybe they could come for six months and then go away for six months, lessen the toll, but … I wouldn’t want them to.”
Viv was about to ask what Garnet meant—she thought she knew—when Jasper cut in with:
“Do you want to hear about tonight? You might not be able to see Minuet, but she had plenty to say to you.”
Garnet’s gloom relented, and a smile returned to her face. “Tell me what she was wearing. Tell me everything.”
Jasper spun an elaborate story about his night with Minuet, up to the time Viv had arrived at the club. It was full of inside jokes, sweet messages from Minuet to Garnet, a list of the songs Jasper and Minuet had danced to, a careful description of the twelve princesses’ clothes … and Garnet listened, rapt, her laugh springing to life whenever Jasper relayed something particularly funny or cute.
Viv didn’t interrupt. She let Jasper tell his story, and eventually the conversation moved to other things. It wasn’t until they’d said their good-byes to Garnet and were descending the stairs that Viv asked, “Why do you lie to her?”
Jasper stopped midway down the staircase. He glanced up, as if to check that Garnet wasn’t in the corridor, listening. Then he resumed his descent. “Because it’s kinder than the truth.”
“Does Minuet even like Garnet? Does she know about her?”
“She knows about her. She likes her about as much as she likes you, or me, or anyone who isn’t forced to dance. Maybe she likes Garnet less, because Garnet’s supposed to share that misery with her. But it’s hard to explain that Garnet’s afraid to leave the palace. That she feels truly safe in one place and that’s where she stays. It’s not the kind of thing that would endear her to Minuet.”
“Why is she so afraid? Is it because of her accident?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. But even so—why would you create this fake love story for her?”
“Because I want Garnet to be happy. And telling her that her princess is an angry mess who hates her isn’t going to do that.”
“Jasper—”
“Please don’t lecture me about this. You barely know us. You don’t know what our lives are like.”
At the bottom of the staircase, Viv’s shoes made a final clack on the marble floor. “No, I don’t.”
They stood awkwardly in the gold-drenched hall, not meeting each other’s eyes. The blazing candlelight made Viv feel like she was on a stage being watched by an audience of their reflections.
“Do you want to go back to the club?” Jasper asked.
“Let’s just … go.”
Viv was quiet as they started down the steep path. From this height, the silver trees looked like a forest of knives—less enchanting, and more like something you wouldn’t want to fall into. The silver lake was a mirror blurred by ripples. Guests trickled from the shore to the club, faceless figures in red and orange, and boats cut through the water like insects.
Viv was tempted to give Jasper the silent treatment, but she wanted information more than she wanted that tiny victory.
“Jasper … why is Garnet afraid of your father?”
“Because of what he did. After her accident.”
“What happened to her?”
Jasper motioned to the distant darkness that merely hinted at a landscape. “Beyond the trees, that way, there’s a pit. We were forbidden to play there because it was dangerous. We did it, anyway. And one day a chunk of stone came loose and hit Garnet. It crushed her leg.”
“Oh my god.”
“It was awful. I thought she might die, or lose her leg, and I knew my father would punish us for disobeying him. But I thought if anything could help her, it was magic. So I brought her to my father, because he had magic.”
“He’s a—” Not a fairy. Not a witch. Viv tried to think—who else had magic?
But Jasper kept going. Either he hadn’t heard her, or he didn’t want to interrupt his story. A sigh punched out of him, like the next words were going to be painful to say.
“When I say my father, I don’t want you to picture a man who teaches his children to play baseball and comforts them when they have nightmares. We saw him around the palace and at meals, but he was more like an overlord than anything else. We were afraid of displeasing him, of drawing his attention for any reason. I knew he would be angry, but I thought he could help her. I didn’t understand then that his magic has limits.
“It turned out that he couldn’t heal Garnet. And he was furious—both because we’d broken his rules and because his perfect daughter wasn’t perfect anymore. He couldn’t bear to see her like that, but it wasn’t the anguish of a father who sees his child in pain. It was the reaction of a collector whose priceless piece of art has been ruined by a childish mistake.
“He wanted the offending part gone. So he summoned a doctor to amputate her leg. Not to examine her, or try to save her leg. No—that wouldn’t be enough of a punishment. I was made to stay and watch. He said if I didn’t stand there quietly and give the doctor room to work, he’d get the executioner to do it.”
“Executioner?”
“That’s my father for you. He has to call out for a doctor, but he keeps an executioner on staff.”
“God.” Viv shuddered.
“Afterward, he said it was a mercy. That if Garnet had kept her leg, it would never be useful to her, it would only bring her pain. The curse would force her to dance and she would suffer. But with her damaged leg gone, her curse was broken. It was like he wanted us to thank him. To acknowledge his foresight. And generosity.”
Jasper’s jaw was tight. Viv laid her hand on his arm and kept it there as they walked. They were nearing the club now. She could make out the details on people’s costumes, but she didn’t think anyone could hear their conversation.
“Why can’t your sister just leave? Why is everyone who lives here trapped?”
“That’s the way my father wants it. This is his kingdom; those are his rules. He’s afraid no one will come back to him. He’s not like the Beast. The Beast can let his Beauty go, and hope she’ll return—because he loves her. My father never learned to love. He won’t free anyone.”
“He shouldn’t treat you like prisoners.”
“Shouldn’t?” Jasper laughed. “He doesn’t live according to rules like that. He doesn’t have to.”
Viv walked down to the lakeshore, far enough that the silver water lapped at the toes of her shoes, sparkling and ruby red, like a cruel joke: there’s no place like home. Jasper had told her she’d be safe in the underworld—safe from Regina and Henley. But maybe true safety was impossible.
“So you’re telling me that if I come here, I’ll have to live under the thumb of your ruthless father. If everyone’s powerless against him, that means I am and you are, too.”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. Viv …” He turned her toward him. “My father wouldn’t hurt you. The Huntsman, your stepmother—they will hurt you. But in the underworld, I can keep you safe. It’s my destiny, and … my second chance. To protect you the way I couldn’t protect my sister. I won’t fail you.”
“But how do you know? How do you know any of that? If your father would do that to his own daughter …”
“I’m different now. I’m not a child anymore. I would never let him hurt you. But I also know that he wouldn’t hurt you. He wants you here as much as I do. You’ll be my queen one day. The queen of this whole dark kingdom.” He smiled, almost self-consciously. “It might not be what you dreamed of, but I think you’ll find that it suits you. I know, even if my brothers don’t believe it, that the twelve princesses are never going to stay here. You are destined to be queen. With your hair as black as night and your lips—almost—as red as blood …”
He touched her face. She could see he wasn’t nervous now; he was warming up to the idea: the two of them side by side, ruling. Viv could almost imagine herself, not as a weak, pathetic princess, but as a queen, strong and finally in control. She thought back to what Owen had told her, and how she’d felt like maybe she could be the one to free him, free all the people who were trapped down here.
“Your father would give up his throne that easily? Power-mad control freaks don’t usually step aside.”
“Well, not right away. We’d want some time to ourselves first. But my father, as difficult as he can be, very much wants there to be a new generation here. New life. A larger family.”
“I think your family is large enough.”
“What I’m trying to say is—”
“I know what you’re trying to say. He wants grandchildren. But I haven’t even kissed you yet. So could we please not talk about babies?”
Jasper flushed—even in the underworld gloom it was obvious. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“Let’s just not get ahead of ourselves.” She took a deep breath. “Um. On that note. I’m going to go now. But I’ll come back tomorrow.”
Jasper reached into his jacket for an invitation. “Then I’ll look forward to it. The theme is Winter, by the way.”
“Can I have two? I want to bring my friend Jewel.”
“Of course. You can bring anyone you want. I should have offered sooner.” He gave her two invitations: black cards with silver script. “Although—when I said you could bring anyone, I meant anyone but the Huntsman.”
“Oh. I wouldn’t. He wouldn’t want to come here, anyway.”
Viv looked down, feeling awkward, and Jasper pulled her into his arms. It felt nice, but also poorly timed. The rush of heat came with a rush of sadness. She was already starting to feel lost at the mention of Henley, knowing he could never be a part of her life here—that if she chose the underworld and Jasper, Henley would never be hers again. So she was startled when Jasper said, “Can I kiss you before you go?”
She’d never kissed—really kissed—anyone besides Henley. And she didn’t want to pretend.
“Not now,” she said. “Not tonight.”
“Oh … all right …”
She hugged him quickly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” And then she stepped into a waiting gondola and let the boatman ferry her across the lake.
When she finally reached the surface, a warm, misty rain was coming down and there was no one to meet her. The alley was empty, quiet except for the hiss of rain and the splash of cars speeding across wet pavement. Viv had fifty dollars tucked inside her bra. She took it out and stepped into the street to hail a cab.
The cab pulled up to her house a little after three in the morning. She hadn’t kissed Jasper, hadn’t done anything really—so she didn’t know why guilt was the first thing she felt when she tiptoed into her room, and found Henley sitting on her bed in the dark, Regina’s jeweled knife in his hand.