"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.
"Vivien," Mother said with a bright smile. "Thank you for coming today." She motioned to the covered mannequin. "Is this the dress?"
"Yes, Risa," she said. "Some of my best work, if you ask me. I hope it fits your vision." Smiling from behind her thin, triangular glasses, Vivien tugged the sheet away with a grand sweep of her arm.
A collective gasp echoed through the solarium.
The dress was breathtakingly beautiful. Mimicking a cloudless night sky, shades of violet and navy swirled together in a masterpiece of silky fabric that flared from the waist like tendrils of smoke. Delicate netting adorned with white and golden crystals formed the constellations that watched over Hunting Hollow during the winter months, weaving up the bodice and into the long sleeves.
"With Hayley's tall height and curvy figure, I opted for a dramatic cut for the neckline," the seamstress explained with a smile. "A diamond necklace for her birthday, perhaps?"
"Oh, Hayley!" Ms. Casas breathed, standing on the opposite side of the mannequin, her hands clasped over her heart. "It's beautiful!"
Stunned and speechless, I stared and stared at the gown. This ritual was just as much for them as it was for me. The warmth flooding my veins felt like wildfire, hot and destructive, instead of the heated glee brought by beautiful gowns. Mother beamed at the vision with fresh tears in her eyes, and the tiled floors felt unsteady beneath my feet.
Their little lamb decorated beautifully before her slaughter. A prize winner, through and through.
"Look at her!" Vivien cried when I shuddered a breath. "Swooning over her gown!"
Pulse fluttering in my throat, I braced against the door, ready to lock myself in the library. "It's beautiful," I said truthfully, my voice hoarse. "It's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen."
"We've worked on the design since last year," Mother explained, and the white-hot anger I felt toward her wavered. "For your eighteenth birthday celebration... I... I didn't want it to go to waste."
Without a word, nearly tripping over my dress, I gathered my mother in a crushing embrace. Holding me tight, she petted my hair, whispering kind words, encouragement, and love, while I whispered apologies and comforting words. No matter how terrible I felt—no matter how hot my emotions burned—I couldn't resent her. My mother. Another victim in this vicious game. I loved her more than anything. I would never forget myself if my time left with her was marred with indignation.
When Vivien snapped her fingers, two assistants emerged from the library. "Come, Hayley," she said. "We'll get you changed in there. I'd like to see the fit for any final alterations."
Swiping away tears, I followed them into the privacy of the windowless adjoining room. The fabric slides over my frame with ease, the soft fabric like silk petals against my skin.
When I stepped back into the solarium, Father waited beside Mother. His dark eyes widened with renewed awe, as though this were the first time he gazed at his only living daughter. Standing there, he was a man drowning in sorrow. "You look beautiful," he whispered. "My darling girl."
It was strange. When I thought of a moment such as this, I imagined I would be stepping out in a wedding dress.
"Well, will you look at this!" Vivien exclaimed from the library. She emerged with the opal necklace in hand, and my heart skipped a beat. "I've never seen such a lovely stone! It fell out of your pocket, Hayley."
The light refracted rainbows from its smooth face. "Oh—" I lurched for the pendant, but the seamstress held it out of reach. "It's—"
Stepping behind me, Vivien clasped the necklace firmly around my neck. "Well, well. A perfect match to a perfect dress. One could say it's to die for."
* * *
Hayley Kuvira Castellano, daughter of Benjamin Theordore and Risa Malti Castellano, younger sister of Amara Gwenyth Castellano, elder sister of Kian Benjamin Castellano, born the Thirty-First of October in the Tenth Year of King Antonius Blaise III's Reign, may he Rest in Peace.
I stared at the new plaque fastened to a wall on the balcony overlooking the grand foyer of Castellano Manor. Along the double staircases that separated the east and west wings of the house, the portraits of past martyrs watched over the house. My portrait would not be completed until after I was gone, and I brushed my fingers along the empty wooden space, the golden plaque glistening in the light that streamed in from the windows. My final mark on the world, and I had no say in what it would look like. Maybe it was for the best.
To my left, Gwenyth smiled triumphant and proud. To my left, Allastair Castellano, my grandfather's eldest brother, stared ahead in irreverence.
Once upon a time, the faces of my ancestors looked ancient and wise. Now, standing in their shoes, so much older, the world heavier, I noticed every bit of youth on their faces. Not one of them was older than twenty two. One was as young as sixteen.
"Hayley!" Ms. Casas called from the base of the stairs. "Your parents are waiting outside! Are you ready for dinner at Bellefontaine Manor?"
My lips curled in a rueful smile. "What if I said no?"
We were officially one week before the full moon. Before the Hollow Ball. Before my eighteenth birthday.
How did I manage to be so lucky? I thought sarcastically.
Ms. Casas soundlessly climbed in the grand staircase and settled beside me with a small hum, reaching out and tracing a line in the dust coating Gwenyth's frame. "I tell Kiersten every single day to make sure these portraits are spotless, and yet..." The older woman tutted with dissatisfaction. "She's so infatuated with that stable boy, Ray, she doesn't hear much of anything."
"Tell Kiersten that if there is so much as a speck of dust on my portrait, I'll haunt her nightmares," I joked.
Ms. Casas's eyes reflected my mischief, and the woman I'd known all my life pulled me into her embrace. Ms. Casas was as much of a mother to me as Risa Castellano. She cared for me, reprimanded me, and looked out for my best interest, even during the times I didn't deserve it. She was a fixture in my life, with her happy wrinkles and shining blue eyes.
"I see your sorrow, Hayley," she murmured. With our mismatched heights, she fit right under my chin, and I hugged her so tight, I was afraid of crushing her thin frame. "No hauntings. No nightmares. You move into the next life in peace, do you understand me?"
"Do I get the luxury of another life?" I asked.
"I hope you do," she said earnestly. "And I hope it is far away from this place and you get everything you deserve to have in this one. You are bravery and steadfast resilience."
Tears burned my eyes. "You're too kind—"
"I mean it!" Ms. Casas stepped out of my embrace and took my hands, squeezing them tight. "You could have sat around and did nothing all these months. Instead, you went to that hospital every day. You fought your father—and that man is as bullheaded as they come. And then, you silly brave girl, you marched right into that forest to help us. You could have stayed in the manor, hidden away. But for the sake of young Kian and the others, you chose to fight. You must continue to fight. Even if the world feels bleak."
"But I'm not meant to fight," I said, and it felt as though the eyes of the portraits turned to gaze at us, listening intently. "I'm supposed to—"
Desperation filled her expression, and she said quickly, "You were supposed to do many things, Hayley! But the fact of the matter is that you were not supposed to go to the Hollow Ball! You were supposed to—" Ms. Casas's voice cut when she jerked back. "—you—were—you—"
Alarmed, I reached for her. "Miss Casas? Miss Casas? What's wrong?"
What's happening?
Her eyes widened as she staggered back, clutching her throat as though something grabbed her. I watched with pure terror as the brown skin of her neck darkened beneath her hands, and she coughed and fought a force I could not see or fight.
"Miss Casas!" I screamed. She threw her hands out as if to stop me from coming forward, and her legs buckled as she choked. "Miss Casas! Someone! Please! Help!"
The last thing I saw was the fear in her eyes before the woman stepped too far back, and fell down the stairs, her lips already blue when she landed on the granite floors.
Dead.
* * *