The Keeper's Curse (35 page)

Emmy
leaned back against the wooden headboard, still exhausted. She
lolled her head to the side to face Persephone staring off in the
distance. She was fidgeting with a pendant around her
neck.

“
You’re awfully quiet, is everything okay?” Emmy had hoped the
whole situation would have gotten Persephone to forgive her, but
they hadn’t even talked about it yet.

Persephone was not nearly as pleased as Jade was with this
situation. “They better find that portal, and very soon.” The deep
passion in her voice fazed Emmy.

“
They will. Don’t worry Persy, nothing is going to happen to
me, or Breckin, or anyone.”

“
Yes, and in the meantime,” Jade grabbed hold of Emmy’s arm,
“we need to find you a last-minute dress.”

***

Up until
this point Emmy hadn’t been all that nervous, but when Jade began
to apply her makeup, the butterflies in her stomach took flight.
There had been so much in her head that a ball was the last thing
on her mind, but it was here now.

After
Emmy showered, Jade handed her the dress she was to wear (Emmy
simply asked to borrow an old dress of Jade’s) and slipped it over
her head. The next half hour Jade did her makeup and hair while
humming contentedly. When Jade finished, she smacked her lips
together and took Emmy’s hand, dragging her into her room where the
only body-length mirror in the house resided.

Emmy
gasped in delight. True to her word, Jade’s gown really was the
exact blue shade of Emmy’s eyes, and due to Jade’s thin strapper
body, the material hugged her tight, making her waist appear close
to nonexistent. The dress flounced out in layers over crinoline,
the delicate hem just brushing the floor. Emmy placed her hands on
her tummy, her fingers tracing the embroidered flowers threaded in
gold on the bodice. Jade had outdone herself with her hair as well;
silver butterfly clips held her hair in a twist, letting only a few
haphazard curls fall to halo her face.

Emmy
decided in that moment maybe not all girly stuff was
bad.

“
Tell Cyrus I said ‘you’re welcome’,” Jade smirked.

He will like it,
Emmy decided. As
Jade had reminded her, Cyrus was rich, and rich people noticed
things like clothes. Emmy stood on her tiptoes and twirled around,
letting the heavy skirt fly outwards.

“
You’re talented,” Emmy said. “Really.”

“
I know. So, that took less time than I thought, so I have
more than enough time to set up.”

“
Am I finally going to hear you sing?” Emmy asked, clasping on
a teardrop shaped necklace.

“
You will, and it will be marvellous! I even wrote a song
dedicated to Alex. Promise me you’ll dance to it.”

Emmy was
glad Jade had wandered off to slip on her own gown so she couldn’t
see her face fall. Oh dear. “I highly doubt I’ll be able to
convince Cyrus, but I’ll make an attempt.”

Emmy
watched her friend get ready, trying to memorize everything she did
for next time. It was a skill, in her opinion, to turn someone from
cute to beautiful in half an hour. When Jade strutted out in her
amber dress and waved hair, she looked better than Emmy did. Emmy
only got in one compliment before Jade dashed out of the room in
her heels, guitar in hand, leaving Emmy to her thoughts.

“
Don’t worry about Breckin, he’ll get over it!” Jade called
from downstairs just as she slammed the door shut.

She knew
feeling guilty was ridiculous: she hadn’t actually done anything
wrong. It was hardly fair Breckin judged her for the friends she
chose when she intensely disliked Rozelyn. Granted, she hadn’t
voiced this, but if she did that would lead to a whole new bundle
of questions she wasn’t prepared to answer.

After
what felt like an eternity, Vera called her from downstairs. “Emmy
dear, there’s a boy waiting for you at the door!”

She took
one last peek at herself in the mirror, inhaled with gusto, and
made her way downstairs. Vera was in the living room in a fancier
version of her curtain-like dresses, but she was able to pull it
off because of that lovable smile. She beamed when she saw
Emmy.

“
You look lovely. Is that Jade’s old dress?” Emmy nodded. “Ah.
Well don’t tell her I said this, but it looks better on you. So who
is the boy?”

There was
no point in hiding it. “Cyrus Crow.”

Just as
she expected, Vera’s eyes bulged. “I – what? Cyrus?
Why?”

“
He’s sort of become my friend.”

Vera did
her best to wave this off. “Ah. I just figured that you would be
going with – oh well, never mind. Have fun. I’ll see you there in
an hour or so.”

“
Thanks Vera,” she said, slipping on the only pair of heels
she had. She seized her poncho and headed down the flight of stairs
into The Noir Beanery. The coffeehouse was empty, the vacant wooden
tables and chairs making the room look a lot bigger than it
normally seemed to be. Her eyes trailed towards the door, and there
he was, the only other person in the room.

Cyrus
leaned against the door, fastening a gold cufflink on his shirt; he
hadn’t seen her yet. Emmy could truly appreciate just how
attractive he was now. He was dressed entirely in black (like he
usually was), but even Emmy could tell the style and material of
his simple suit was very expensive. His hair was even darker than
his clothes were, tousled and messy and swept back from his face.
His dark thick lashes were lowered, the light leaving long shadowed
lines across his face.

She
cleared her throat, jerking him out of whatever he was thinking
about. He raised his head to look at her. His eyes traveled from
her face downwards until they reached the floor, then back up to
her eyes. She felt exposed when he did that, but it wasn’t an
entirely unpleasant sensation.

“
What, no sarcastic quip?” she said, not being able to stand
the silence any longer.

“
Oh, um, you …” he waved a hand at her as if this explained
everything. “You clean up well.”

There it was. She felt much more comfortable now.
“Really?
That’s
the best you can do? Please refrain from complimenting me for
the rest of the night.”

“
Your shoes don’t match your dress, either.”

She
clacked in her shoes over to him and smacked him on the shoulder.
“Let’s go. Maybe you shouldn’t talk at all.”

She
shrugged on her poncho, just about to walk out the door when Cyrus
took her hand, whirled her around to face him and said, “In all
seriousness, you’re stunning. It hurts to look at you,
actually.”

Emmy
bowed her head to stare at her apparently mismatched shoes. “But I
don’t look as good as you, do I?” she asked.

He
chuckled low in his throat. “No, but don’t beat yourself up over
that. Nobody does.”

The worst
part was it was true.

He led
her to the front of The Noir Beanery where a black shire stallion
awaited them. Cyrus mounted the enormous creature first and held
out a hand for Emmy.

“
My advice is side saddling in that gown of yours,” he said as
he hoisted her up in the stirrup. She obeyed, feeling insecure, and
chose to wrap her arms around Cyrus’s waist to make sure she didn’t
fall off.

He
spurred the mighty creature into a canter. Only then did it occur
to Emmy that she didn’t know where they were going.

“
Is this going to take a while?”

“
We’ll be there within ten minutes. Are you cold?”

“
I’m fine,” she lied, wishing she had brought her fur coat
instead of her poncho. The following silence was deafening; Emmy
became acutely aware she was alone with Cyrus and her skin tingled
where she touched him. The easy, comfortable air between them when
they had been collecting the patients didn’t seem to exist anymore.
She kept pulling away from him to stop her muscles from tensing up,
hating her self-consciousness, only to want to get near him again.
It was a very strange feeling – she didn’t think at this point she
was even capable of being attracted to somebody else. The tension
was killing her, so she said, “Cyrus? Can I ask you something?
Something kind of personal?”

He craned
his neck to see her, his face as usual being unreadable.
“Sure.”

“
I trust you,” she began. “I have no reason not to, but I just
don’t understand. I believed you when you told me that even before
we met, you never planned to hurt me.”

“
Which was the truth,” he said.

“
Yes, but you’ve been with people your whole life who told you
that crafters are naturally bad, and that non-crafters are good.”
She had adopted calling people in the real world “non-crafters”,
refusing to believe she wasn’t a human, regardless of being
corrected all the time.

“
And I believe it,” Cyrus said. “Thoreoux didn’t make up that
mantra – it’s been around ever since the Mallet
Upheaval.”

This
bothered her. There was a lot crafters didn’t know about
non-crafters – she knew they were not the helpless creatures
Methelwoodians made them out to be, and had no way to prove it. But
that was not the point of this conversation, so she let it
slide.

“
But you still weren’t willing to kill me and Breckin,” she
said. “You hate Breckin.”

“
Maybe, but I still don’t want him
dead
.”

“
The thing is though, it would’ve made sense that you were
brainwashed by Thoreoux and your father into believing everything
they said. I don’t understand where you got the idea saving our
lives would be a good idea.”

She was
forced into staring at the back of his head for a minute before he
answered. She was just about to apologize when he spoke, “Because I
knew what it meant to murder somebody.” His voice was quiet but
strong. “I hate Clara Crawford for killing my father. I know she
had to do what she did – it was a matter of survival – but she
still took away everything from me and Brynn. I know my father was
a bastard, but he was my father. And she didn’t care.”

Emmy
didn’t know what to say to this other than, “I’m sorry.”

“
Anyway, that’s what changed for me. I promised myself I would
never do that to somebody else, to take away their life and ruin
everyone else’s that had loved them. I can’t forgive Clara, or the
Eldoir. He’s the reason my father is dead.”

She felt
the muscles in his back tighten underneath his clothes. Emmy wanted
to apologize for asking, but he didn’t seem to be angry. He said it
like they were talking about the weather.

Emmy then
noticed something flashing across the sky, averting her attention.
She pulled herself further up in the seat to see past Cyrus, and
came across a very strange sight. Trails of fire soared through the
air in a deliberate crisscross pattern through the sky, a few feet
above the trees.

“
We’re here,” Cyrus announced, jerking the horse off to the
right where a hitching rail stood. There was very little room with
the rail covered in reigns of over thirty horses; it took them a
few minutes to find a spot. He helped her off the horse and
extended his arm. Tentatively she accepted, wrapping her arm around
his. This was so strange.

“
It’s freezing,” she said. “How are we supposed to have a
dance here?”

He didn’t
need to answer when they turned the corner behind the hitching
rail, exposing her to the fire once again. The crisscross fire
pattern extended across a huge clearing in the shape of a bubble,
shielding the people inside. From several feet away Emmy could feel
the fire. Her body ached for more warmth.

“
Isn’t this dangerous?” Emmy whispered.

Cyrus led
her through the arch-shaped entryway inside the fire
bubble.

“
Don’t worry, the last forest fire on account of the Blossom
Ball was in the nineteen forties,” Cyrus said. “Ages
ago.”

“
How is this controlled?”

“
Salamander elementals,” he said. Emmy’s eyes trailed the
lines of fire back to their roots on the ground, and noticed every
one of them led to a crafter. Each one held out their hands, fire
coming out of them, keeping their flames steady. It certainly
worked; everyone inside the bubble was warm, none of them wearing
coats.

In the
center of the woodland clearing was a circle of grass that had been
trampled on beyond repair, which was where everyone danced. All
around the edges were small circular tables covered in cloth,
adorned with the bright colors of spring, where people could sit
and talk. Beyond the dance floor, where Emmy could barely see, was
a small dais of a stage where several people were playing
instruments. Emmy narrowed her eyes to see the lead singer, and it
wasn’t a tall redhead. Jade’s band hadn’t started playing
yet.

“
Your friends or mine first?” Emmy finally asked after taking
in her surroundings.

He gave
her a sardonic smile. “I’ve just been outed as Rhoan Crow’s son,
remember? My friend list currently stands at zero.”

She felt
awful. “I’m sorry. Come with me, I’ll introduce you to
mine.”