The Hollow Ball

Chapter 10

"The seamstress is here for your final fitting, dear," Mother said beside me.

We sat on the balcony of Mother's suite, the distinctive energy of autumn zapping with the breeze, electric and bittersweet, as the magic of Hannover saturated the air, crisp like apples and cinnamon. The teacup in my hand sat like a fixture on a statue: made with the intention of a leisurely scene to be admired by others, but never meant to truly carry it out.

A charade. A fantasy of quaint, simple, happy times.

With only two weeks before the Hollow Ball, existence felt akin to purgatory; there was too much time to sit around spiraling about one's demise, but not enough time to do anything of true substance. Time felt murky and disjointed. Most days, I spent my time wandering the manor or in the smoky pews of the Temple of Shadows, my hands clasped as I begged for relief from my fear of the unknown.

Please, take this wrongness I feel away. Let me be like the other Chosen: excited, honored, and happy.

At the last full moon, the Chosen were revealed, and their names were printed outside the Temple of Shadows. One member from each Founding Family. Thirty others Chosen among those who came after Hunting Hollow's charter.

I even invoked the nameless goddess mother prayed to. In the darkness, I waited, listening for a deity's voice to assuage my bitterness. I was getting angrier by the day and I hated it.

But all I heard was the pounding in my ears.

And sometimes worse—I heard the strange whispers that followed me from my dreams.

Even as I forced myself to lie awake at night, they succeeded in dragging me under.

"Hayley?" Mother set her teacup down. "The seamstress?"

She can wait. She can wait and wait until she's decayed for all I care.

The thought startled me, and I tore my gaze from the ravens resting on nearby trees. Their oily feathers glistened against the pale sky like ink blots on paper. "Right," I said, forcing a smile. "I'm ready."

The seamstress waited in the solarium attached to the smallest library in the manor. With large windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, the solarium glowed with gold trimming, beaded glass, and a crystal chandelier hanging from the dome. At the same time, an assortment of rich maroon furniture commanded the space. Ms. Casas and a few of the house staff waited with thinly-veiled anticipation. What was a grand ball without a magnificent gown?

At the center of the room, a dress mannequin waited beneath a long white sheet. Theatrics never eluded Hunting Hollow. I felt a strange rush of emotion when I caught sight of sparkling dark fabric peeking from beneath the sheet.

Really? Are you truly excited about a dress? A voice in the back of my mind scoffed. Yes; I couldn't help it.

In a whirl of long green skirts, a middle-aged woman sashayed forward, her eyes bright with excitement. "Hello!" Vivien Lucette sang. "Good to see you again!"

Vivien Lucette grew from the Oberoi's most skilled seamstress to its most prized designer, and the Castellanos would not spare any expense for this momentous occasion. I remembered the excitement of seeing Gwenyth's dress for the first time, back when Vivien nervously spoke of how she experimented with the fabric.

This is an honor, I reminded myself. You are being rewarded. Revered.

Sliding my hands into my dress pockets, I wrapped my fingers tight around the opal necklace I found in the cemetery. Since the day I found it—when Gwenyth's voice howled with the wind, and West saved me from a watery grave—I couldn't part from it. Not even for a moment. The stone was warm and reassuring between my clammy fingers, and it eased the whispers I pretended not to notice.