Chapter 22
Ah, my first kiss. If one were to argue that it began the moment my lips first dared to mingle with another in any form, then, without question, it would be the dreadful encounter with the glass lips of Mrs. Homtrash, who thrust her horrid invention upon me. But if the subject is a person, well, that tale is far more dreadful.
It was the summer when I was seventeen, specifically the second day of the infamous Vaneeri ball. That grand spectacle, a display of vanity and excessive wealth, where every noble thought themselves the star of a poorly written play. The ballroom was alive with the hum of orchestrated music, the murmur of genteel conversation, and the soft clinking of glasses filled with far too much wine. Chandeliers glittered like constellations above our heads, casting golden light upon the polished floors and a sea of overly adorned nobles.
I had barely managed to step foot into the ballroom before a swarm of nobles descended upon me as though I were an exotic creature. Their smiles were so wide I feared their faces might split, their words so honeyed I was at risk of developing a cavity merely by standing there, and their endless questions? Oh, insufferable. Truly insufferable.
My polished and serene smile betrayed nothing of my inner turmoil. I would have gladly sold my soul to the devil himself for a fleeting moment of solitude, away from their cloying sycophancy and desperate flattery.
Cecilia was faring no better than I. Her circle was smaller, yes, but the intensity of their gazes was far more vile. Men and women alike regarded her with the kind of hunger that made my blood boil, their eyes raking over her as if she were a prized possession displayed for their amusement.
Cecilia's delicate hands clasped tightly in front of her, her knuckles paling under the pressure. Outwardly, her expression was calm, serene even, as if the storm around her had no effect. But I knew better. Behind that practiced mask, she was fighting a battle of nerves.
She was a slave, after all. I could practically hear the cogs turning in their shallow little minds as they plotted how best to approach her so-called master with an offer. My grip on my cane tightened, my knuckles matching Cecilia's in their whiteness. These detestable creatures thought they could prey on her? Over my lifeless body.
I forced a smile as I feigned amusement at the lord who had been droning on beside me. His latest quip went completely unheard. I had already decided I could stomach no more of this nonsense. With one final hollow laugh, I turned sharply, cutting off whatever nonsense he was about to spout next. "Do excuse me, lord. I must attend to my companion."
Without a second glance, I pushed through the throng of nobles.
When I reached Cecilia, the atmosphere seemed to shift. The nobles circling her like vultures hesitated, their predatory glances faltering when I stepped into their midst. Cecilia turned her head just slightly, her black eyes meeting mine with a flicker of relief so subtle that only I could have noticed it.
"My dear Cecilia," I began, "you appear to be the most sought-after treasure this evening. Are these fine ladies and gentlemen providing you with good company?"
The question hung in the air like a blade suspended by a thread. One of the offenders stammered an excuse. "We were merely… admiring her grace."
"Were you?" I asked, arching a brow as I placed a hand lightly on Cecilia's arm. "How fortuitous for you to witness such elegance up close. Now, I trust you have had your fill of admiration, as we must now take our leave."
The crowd began to disperse under the weight of my unwavering gaze. Cecilia leaned ever so slightly into my touch, her knotted hands finally relaxing.
Once the last of them was out of sight, I turned to Cecilia fully, my voice softening as I asked, "Are you alright?"
A faint smile graced her lips, her composure returning. "I am now," she replied.
"What an absolute menagerie of vultures this place is. Shall we endure this nonsense together, then?"
"Together, always."