Magic Under Glass

by Jaclyn Dolamore

  “Are you all right, Miss Nimira? You look like you haven’t slept.”

  “I haven’t.”

  We exchanged sympathetic expressions in the mirror, but I couldn’t think what more to say.

  I wished I could confide in her. I wished I could say that I didn’t want to stand up in front of a crowd in my strange trousers, that I hardly knew who I was anymore, that my mother would be sorely disappointed in me, that Hollin wanted things from me that I wasn’t sure I could give, that I feared I had feelings for Erris I should never have felt, that I would fail to save him. I craved understanding, a gentle touch to my shoulder, a kind word.

  Yet, some terrible pride seized my tongue. I had always been the strong one. I had always been “above” things. If I cried, I cried alone.

  “I think I just have a touch of stage fright.”

  A heavy tread came to a stop in the doorway. Linza and I both glanced over to see Hollin there.

  “How do I look?” I stood up and pulled my tunic straight, frowning at a wrinkle near the hem.

  “Nimira, you’re right. Change into the evening gown.”

  His abrupt decision left me startled. “The gown?”

  “Smollings won’t be able to do a damn thing about it once we’re all there. I want them to see you as the well-spoken traveler you are, not an imported curiosity.” He slapped the doorframe before he turned away.

  Linza raised her eyebrows. “The gown it is, then.”

  She brought forth the splendid gown, with its rustling silk and air of grandeur. It dipped low in back and front, with cream and black velvet flowers crawling around the neckline, exposing what seemed like far too much of my brown skin. I tried not to care how pale Linza’s hands were against mine. The bodice hugged my form and the skirts swept around my legs, so different from the clothes of Tiansher, meant for moving and stretching and leaping.

  Linza dressed my hair in a pompadour and pinned velvet flowers that matched the flowers on my gown just above my ears. She spritzed my hair and neck with some scented water until I smelled like a spring garden. Finally, she handed me my long ivory gloves, waited as I tugged each finger straight, and draped my cape around my shoulders.

  Hollin watched me descend the stairs. He looked quite serious. I tried to smile.

  “You are a queen of Shai,” he said, referring to the long-gone country Tiansher had once been a state of, a land I had noticed stories of Lorinar tended to romanticize.

  “I would have been a queen of Shai if I’d worn the trousers. But I’m glad you changed your mind.”

  He offered me his hand as I took the bottom step. “One more touch, I think.” He took something from his pocket—diamonds gleamed in the light. His hands slipped around my neck. It wasn’t just the corset that restrained my breath as he fastened it. His hands lingered on my shoulders an extra moment before he removed them.

  “I meant to give Annalie this necklace on her birthday,” he said. “But I never got the chance.”

  I touched the gems. The platinum settings felt cold and weighty on my skin. I could imagine him giving them to his smiling bride, and the thought stabbed at me.

  He swallowed, looking strangely forlorn as he studied the way the diamonds rested. “You—you look very beautiful tonight, Nimira.”

  Despite it all, I thought of touching his cheeks—of warming the skin there. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Shall I escort you to your carriage?” He held up his arm.

  I slipped my gloved hand into the crook of his elbow.

  Aldren Hall was a smaller estate than Vestenveld, probably built in the last century, if I could judge by the illustrations in novels. Their bewigged romantic heroes always had estates like this: a broad rectangle of stone with two extended wings branching off the sides. Three rows of windows glittered with light from one wing to the other. A line of carriages looped around the curving driveway, dropping their guests off at the door before trotting on.

  As we approached the doors, Hollin took my arm again. I suppressed a grin of pride. I would enter in a gown, on a man’s arm, like a lady.

  We were received in a grand hall, under a glittering chandelier. The servants taking our wraps and hats wore curled white wigs, black uniforms trimmed in gold, and white stockings. All around us, gentlemen removed their top hats; ladies shed their shawls and capes to reveal creamy shoulders. Jewels of every color and staggering size hung around their necks, and I was glad I had the diamonds. Annalie’s diamonds. I never forgot their presence. Cheerful chatter echoed across the wooden floors, mingled with the whispering of delicate slippers, the rustling of dresses, the firm clattering of male dress shoes.

  The crowds spilled forward into the hall, where marble statues perched at the foot of the floating staircase. They had little wings and carried spears, so I supposed them some manner of mythical creature. Portraits lined the walls, rosy-cheeked girls in massive gilt frames that were works of art in themselves. On the second floor, a girl chased a fellow up the stairs; their laughter floated over the crowd. A strange smell hovered in the air, an alluring smoke I almost thought I recognized from childhood.

  An older woman spotted us across the room and hurried our way.

  “Mr. Parry! Oh, this must be the girl I’ve heard of, the lovely maiden of Tassim.”

  “Lady Moseky.” Hollin regarded her with a slight bow.

  Lady Moseky had a lively, lined face with deep-set brown eyes. Her eyebrows were nearly nonexistent, enhanced with pencil. “I’ve placed your automaton in the drawing room—what an amazing piece! If you ever wish to sell, do let me know.”

  “That I will.”

  “Brilliant.” She moved along, searching the crowd, the beading on her black dress shimmering.

  “She is the hostess?” I asked.

  “Yes. Very eccentric woman, but also very rich.” Hollin wore a look of distaste as he spoke. “Her father was the ambassador of magic for a time when I was a boy. Sorcerers and politicians have always gathered here, but since her father died ten years ago, she has let in more and more of an . . . unsuitable crowd. The radicals and reformists.” His voice dropped. “And speak of the devil.”

  “Good evening, Mr. Parry.” A man stepped into our conversation, dressed all in black with a blue cravat, a sardonic smile already on his lips. “I heard you’ll be providing some entertainment for us this evening.” He had a foreign accent—a slight heaviness to certain syllables, a sharpness to his r’s.

  “Yes. This is Nimira.” Hollin was looking ahead, as if he hoped to spot a friend in the crowd who might pull him away.

  “She is the singer, yes? To accompany . . . an automaton?”

  Hollin nodded vaguely. His arm was stiff under my fingers. “Oh, I beg your pardon, there’s Melsing, I’d better say hello.” He began to move on, bringing me with him through the press of crowds.

  I glanced back at the man as Hollin led away, and was startled to see him watching us depart. I quickly faced forward. “Who was that?”

  “Karstor Greinfern.”

  Karstor! My God, that was Karstor? I feigned nonchalance. “What’s wrong? I’d think you’d want to talk to him after that plan you and Smollings—”

  “Shh!” he snapped, although with so many people talking all at once, I doubted anyone could hear. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Karstor is dangerous. He and Garvin were full of disastrous ideas . . .” Hollin shook his head. “Let Smollings talk to him.”

  “Disastrous ideas? Like the fairy alliance?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Smollings thinks an alliance will lead to war, then?”

  “He thinks they’ll betray us.”

  “What will happen if there is no alliance? Peace?”

  “You need not concern yourself.”

  I put my hand to his arm. “Stop saying that, Hollin, please. This is my country now, and I want to know if there will be war. War isn’t just a business for men, you know. It affects everyone.”

  He paused. “I don’t know
if war is inevitable, but Smollings wants to assure us the upper hand, whatever the outcome.”

  Was the war inevitable? If Erris was the lost prince, and if Garvin, as the ambassador of magic, had meant to save his life and restore his throne, then I could hardly imagine our two countries going to war. But if Erris couldn’t be saved . . . then what had Garvin’s plan been?

  I needed to talk to Karstor.

  All around us, people laughed and talked. Ladies’ bare arms and gentlemen’s sleeves brushed us in the thick crowd. Hollin found us breathing room in the airy ballroom, a space twice as long as it was wide, and full of waltzing couples. Chairs lined the paneled walls, many of them occupied by ladies fanning themselves or chatting while their eyes followed the dancers. I saw more of the eccentric company Hollin had mentioned; dandies wearing velvet knickers and their hair long, and a girl with a small monkey clinging to her shoulder.

  Hollin drew me just to the side of the doors. “That’s better. Much too crowded in the hall.”

  “Yes.” Dancing partners whirled by us, their feet moving together, although some kept better time than others. I watched one clumsy pair near my age, both blushing.

  Of course, I expected Hollin to ask me to dance. I didn’t know what to do when he merely stood there, brooding upon the couples sweeping by. “Do you like to dance?” I asked him.

  “Not very much, not anymore.”

  “Did you dance with Annalie?”

  “Well, Anni, she was not the most coordinated of girls. Despite all her lessons, she was always, well, a rather terrible dancer.” He smiled faintly, and then it was gone. “Do you know the waltz, Nimira?”

  “I do, yes.” Polly had taught me and Saraki both the social dances of Lorinar. I didn’t mention that. Dancing had been one of the evening amusements at Granden’s, with Eila taking the piano.

  “One dance, I suppose . . .” He tilted his head toward the floor. “If you’d like to, that is.”

  “Yes, all right.”

  He led me onto the floor, and we took our positions. We had only a moment to get our hands and feet in the right place; the couples were whirling around the floor in a slow circle, and we had to fall in with them or collide. Before I knew it, I was in Hollin’s arms, slowly spinning. I took my skirt up with one hand after I nearly stumbled on the hem.

  He cut a fine figure on the floor, and I could not help thinking what an attractive couple we must make. When I danced, I felt light. I could have closed my eyes and imagined another life, where I loved the arms that encircled me. I wanted to toss my burdens aside and never take them up again.

  When I looked up, his face was distant and serious. He made a halfhearted smile before I lost him again. I wondered if he was thinking of Annalie. Or was he brooding over Karstor and fairy alliances? Or looking for Smollings? Too many possibilities, none of them good.

  “You should smile more.” I spoke into his ear over the music. “It becomes you.”

  His cheeks flushed, and his true smile came out. “Does it, now? I’ll try to remember. I do want to keep my Nimira happy, or else you might step on my toes.”

  My Nimira!

  I wanted to jerk back from his arms. Surely he didn’t think of me as his, just because of a few shared meals and conversations? He was a married man. Maybe Annalie was a bit mad, maybe he no longer loved her, but that didn’t make it right to woo me, especially if he was keeping the truth from me.

  But Hollin also owned the clockwork body of Erris. If I rebuffed him and he sent me away, I’d have no chance of saving Erris. I kept dancing, kept smiling. It was a good thing I knew how to pretend.

  The music ended, and we saw Smollings break away from a man he’d been speaking with near the doors and head our way. A merry polka was starting up, but Hollin led me off the floor. His smile had vanished.

  “Good evening, Hollin. Nimira. Where exactly is your costume for the performance?” We stopped in one corner of the dance floor.

  “I changed my mind,” Hollin said, quite firmly. I squeezed his hand. Yes—hold your ground! “I had already bought Nimira this dress.”

  “You can dress her however you like; it won’t change what she is,” Smollings said. He shooed me with a thin hand. “Why don’t you go say hello to Lady Moseky, she rather enjoys . . . your kind. Hollin and I have some business to discuss, hey?”

  Hollin released my hand, and for a moment he blazed at Smollings in dreadful silence.

  “Oh, cool your temper,” Smollings said. “You’re just like your father. Come on.”

  “Fine,” Hollin snapped. He stalked past Smollings to the door.

  “Karstor is here,” I heard Smollings say, before they disappeared through the increasing throngs of ballroom spectators. I stepped aside, unsure where to go. I wanted to find Karstor, but I didn’t want Smollings to catch us speaking. He’d be distracted talking to Hollin now, but I had to be careful.

  It was no easy task to find anyone in such a crowd. If a curtain caught fire we’d all die in the stampede. I skirted the edge of the ballroom, scanning the faces for Karstor’s, begging people’s pardon a dozen times as I nudged past them, heading for the double doors at the other end of the room.

  I didn’t know where they’d lead, but I hardly cared. I needed air. I brushed past two men in a heated discussion, one of them gesturing with a closed lady’s fan, as if he’d forgotten he were holding it. The dancers were lost in their own worlds. A little boy and girl were hiding under a table, whispering to each other, passing a pastry back and forth.

  I darted behind the doors, into a large room lit by just one dim lantern on the table and moonlight streaming in through the windows.

  I wasn’t alone.

  Erris and his pianoforte sat at one end, awaiting the crowds that would come after dinner to see him play. To see me sing.

  I approached him like I might step into a tomb. It wasn’t right that he should be here, shut away with only a feeble light for company, unwound and silent, while just behind the doors was dancing and laughter. Erris liked dancing, I suspected. He must know a number of interesting fairy dances.

  I wanted to wind him, but I didn’t have his key. It would be foolish, anyway. I touched his arm, and brushed the hair off his face. It flopped right back into place.

  I should talk to Karstor, I must. But my reluctance ran deeper than my fear of Smollings. If Karstor couldn’t save Erris, I couldn’t bear to hear it. I didn’t want Erris to die.

  Nim, you must do something. One way or another, you can’t leave him trapped in an automaton. Everyone must die sooner or later, and he has no life to speak of.

  “Karstor’s here,” I said aloud, as if he could hear me. “I’m sorry I haven’t spoken to him yet, but I will. I haven’t had a chance.”

  I looked at his hands, an automatic reaction by now. Of course, they remained still. A clock on the mantel ticked a slow time, the sound heavy over the sprightly music that floated through the doors.

  I pressed my lips together.

  Even if Erris couldn’t speak, a voice in my head readily spoke for him. Nim, you know you must talk to Karstor. Hollin is occupied. It may be your only chance.

  “I will,” I repeated, as if it helped. I squeezed his cold hand, wishing I could feel the life inside him.

  I cracked the door and peered out to the ballroom again. I scanned the walls, where people spoke in small groups, laughing and gesturing. Finally, I spotted Karstor halfway between the other entrance and myself, speaking to a woman, and then to her friend. One of them noticed me and pointed. Karstor caught my eye and nodded.

  Startled, I ducked back inside the quiet room. Karstor was asking after me? I hoped Smollings didn’t catch wind of that.

  He opened the door. “Might I talk with you a moment?”

  “Um . . . yes. Why?”

  As soon as he shut the door behind him, his attention shifted to Erris. “The automaton.” He spoke softly. “I have never seen it. I was abroad when Garvin—”

  My sto
mach clenched as he walked close.

  “He’s beautiful.” Karstor ran his hand along the pianoforte. He had long hands, stained with ink around the writing fingers. “I suppose you have heard that he is haunted?”

  “I’ve heard that.” I wondered how much Karstor knew, what Garvin might have told him. He was handling me carefully, I guessed. He didn’t know if he could trust me either.

  “Do you believe it?” he continued.

  If I was to tell him, it was now or never. I spoke in a rush. “He’s not haunted, sir. He’s alive. He told me to talk to you. But we don’t have much time. Smollings mustn’t see us. He suspects.”

  Karstor drew close enough to touch me, something like panic on his gaunt face. His smell reminded me of anise—somewhere between baked goods and medicine. “So he has talked to you. And you know what—who—he is? Do you have his key?”

  “I know he’s . . . a fairy prince. I’m afraid I don’t have his key. Not here.”

  “What else has he said? Anything about Garvin?”

  “Well, sir, he said he didn’t think fairy bandits murdered him.”

  “Does he know who did?”

  “No . . . he only suspected it was Garvin’s human rivals.”

  “The automaton might have been the last person to talk to Garvin. I had hoped he knew something . . .” He scratched the side of his forehead, with the weariest of expressions.

  “Do you know how to set him free? Erris—the automaton—he told me to ask you. Garvin had been trying to help him before he . . .”

  Karstor stopped short, looking at Erris. “How to set him free? How do you mean, free?”

  “I mean—” My fingers tugged at Annalie’s diamonds. “I mean, is there a way he can live again? He’s trapped. Garvin said you could help.”

  “Is that what Garvin told him?” He shook his head. “Garvin was ever the optimist. I told him I can’t make life from clockwork. I can only raise the dead. But I’d need a body, his body—and the council’s permission.”