The Night Curse (Book one)
Chapter 15 The Dreamwalker

“Are you ready?” Clemmy asks as she parades into my room. My gaze doubles in size as I bask in her glory. She’s breathtaking. Her mask is an abundance of peacock feathers, and her gown a sheen of rich, vivid sapphire. If I didn’t know better, I’d mistake her for royalty.

“You look tremendous, Clemmy.”

She doesn’t thank me, instead choosing to bow like my words are a crowd’s applause. She’s acting, but she just doesn’t know it. The engagement still makes me uneasy, and I sense the change in my demeanour as Clemmy reaches for my arm. “I had to make sure that you’re okay. I know tonight is just as important for you.”

My smile stretches, not quite meeting my eyes. Nerves embroiled with apprehension swim along the lining of my stomach. Clemmy motions for me to turn and face the mirror. She begins tugging and tightening the ribbon of my corset. All the while looking like a mythical creature.

“Can you see in that thing?” I ask, pointing to her feathered mask. My breath catches as she pulls the corset around my waist, constricting my oxygen.

She merely laughs and ties the ribbon in place before getting me to step into my gown. The dress drapes over my silhouette, the hue of it dripping like Bordeaux wine. Although I can barely breathe, admittedly, I’ve never looked better. For once, my locks are finely brushed into shiny waves, no longer taking on the form of dead seaweed or burnt hay. Earlier, I had pinned sections into swirls, leaving tendrils of curls around my face, just as Clemmy had taught me.

“The final touch,” Clemmy declares while placing the dark mask over my eyes. It darkens my view, but I can still see past the half-opaque fabric. “If only mother and father could see you.

They will see me, but I know what Clemmy means. They won’t know it’s me. Hopefully. They’ll be so enamoured by Clemmy’s big moment that I’ll fade into the background, left to soak in every second.

“Promise me that you’ll try to make the most of it,” Clemmy commands, and I nod, wanting to reassure her enough that she’ll focus on herself. “I’ll see you down there.”

She glides away, my radiant sister, and I prepare myself to follow, stealing one last glance of myself in the mirror, marred only by a veil of lace.

I must not faint, I must not faint, I repeat as I take in the noises below.

Serenading music and the trill of spectators drift up the staircase, sending my pulse racing. I steady myself with the banister, focusing on each stride. I wish I had told Clemmy to loosen my corset as my chest can barely inflate. I sip in air, trying to suppress my rising panic.

When my heel reaches the entrance to the ballroom, my lack of oxygen is the furthest thing from my mind. More people than I have ever seen fills the room. Opposite me, musicians play their instruments, producing the most wondrous sounds. They drawl out with both elegance and despair, lining my lashes with tears. It’s overwhelming to the senses and to my starved heart. I’ve only experienced such things in poetry. To be here, surrounded by so much life, without any repercussions is beyond comprehension.

The only thing capable of breaking me from my trance is the sight of mother and father ogling Clemmy as she takes to the floor with Elliot’s hand on her elbow. They begin to dance. Even through the haze, I see joy in the way Clemmy beholds the Marquess, and that brings me bittersweet pain.

Elliot is impressively tall and slim in stature. He’s attractive, as Clemmy had described, and his eyes seem to resonate with Clemmy’s enrapture, taking the thorns out of the guilt wrapped around my extremities. It’s only then that I feel like I can actually relax, and recede into a corner of the room, prepared to watch the night unfold until sunrise.