“I didn’t expect to come. Yet given my father’s position, I had no choice but to see what you wanted.”
Signa’s throat bobbed as she stepped closer, letting her lips curl into a false smile to greet the crowd around them. “I understand your lack of trust in me, but I’m glad you came. Rest assured that tonight we will save Elijah.”
That much, at least, was certain. Though as Blythe watched her cousin step away, greeting Everett and Eliza as a shadow trailed her every step, she hoped that Elijah was not the only soul that Blythe would save tonight.
Signa thanked the others for coming all this way, her eyes never leaving Eliza while Blythe stood there, numb. The tapestry warmed her skin, and Blythe absently pressed a hand against it as her eyes found Aris’s. He watched Signa with a predatory gleam, assessing her every movement as if to decide when to strike. The shadow in the corner stood across from him. Blythe tried not to look at Death so obviously, though she was beginning to make out a face in those shadows.
“Why don’t we head up to the ballroom?” Blythe forced her attention away from all of them. “Signa, could you show us the way?”
Signa’s smile wavered, and she looped her arm through Eliza’s.
Blythe tried not to let that bother her. Tried not to stare as she told herself that this wasn’t Signa’s way of saying she’d already found a replacement for Blythe, but because Eliza looked one strong breeze away from a collapse. Still, Blythe longed for the days when she would be the one beside Signa, gossiping and chatting about the most recent book they’d read.
“Is something wrong with Eliza?” Blythe stuck with Charlotte and Everett, speaking too quietly for the others to hear. “She’s remarkably pale.”
“I’m certain there is, but she won’t tell us what.” Everett didn’t bother to conceal his contempt as he glared at Blythe, widening their berth. She was so taken aback by his ferocity that for a second she stopped walking. The Everett she’d known had always been so polite. She liked him a little better with his scowl, though would have preferred that it not be aimed at her.
“I understand if you’re not the biggest fan of my family,” Blythe began, “but my father is innocent. The wrong man is set to hang.” With each word, Blythe searched Everett for any sign of nerves. Any sign that he was worried Blythe suspected his involvement. And yet he only cut her a scathing look, jaw clenched.
“I’ve no idea how to act around you, Miss Hawthorne, for I do not wish anyone else to suffer as I have. I am sorry that you’re to lose your father, but I cannot be upset by justice.” Everett turned then, hurrying the rest of the way up the steps without any regard for Blythe.
Charlotte stared after him, her lips pressed into a small frown. “We can’t change the verdict, Blythe. Your father was found guilty.”
So ragged was Blythe’s breathing that she’d begun to shake. She folded her hands, pressing them against herself and biting her tongue until she tasted blood. She wanted to tell Charlotte exactly how suspicious she was of each of them but focused instead on the warmth from the tapestry that pulsed against her skin.
She would not give them the time to form clever excuses by giving away her suspicions. Not yet.
Blythe hadn’t noticed they’d arrived inside the ballroom until Charlotte hurried away, leaving her surrounded by strangers in bustling gowns and servants passing gilded trays of dainty sweets and fizzing drinks. Behind her, Eliza was speaking to Signa in low, hushed tones, though her cousin hardly seemed to be paying attention. Signa’s jaw was clenched, and Blythe followed her eyes to one corner of the ballroom, where Death’s shadows were erratic as he moved toward Signa and back again, faster than Blythe’s eyes could keep up with.
Blythe’s heart leaped to her throat when a champagne flute swept from the table beside her and shattered onto the floor. Not even Death had been standing near enough to knock it aside.
Signa’s hands were suddenly gripping her shoulders tight.
“Keep an eye on Eliza,” she said at once. “Promise me you won’t let her out of your sight.”
“What’s going on?” Blythe ducked out of her hold, still looking at the broken glass that was hurriedly swept away. No sooner had the staff finished than another glass fell.
“There’s something I need to take care of. Just keep close to her!”
Before Blythe had the chance to form a single coherent thought, Signa hiked up her skirts and hurried across the ballroom floor.