There I learned how to retreat inside my head, and that’s where I huddled during the inauguration.
Blind, I watched the proceedings. Deaf, I heard the vows spoken. Mute, I moved my lips on silent affirmations.
A warm hand on my arm made me flinch hard enough the legs of my chair scraped against the planks.
Volkov withdrew, giving me space to sink back into my body, but gestured toward the box.
The newly minted Grande Dame stood with her arm outstretched. Pointing. She was singling me out. Her mouth formed words, but I couldn’t hear them over the thudding of my pulse in my ears. I looked to Volkov for a translation, but he kept his face carefully neutral while listening to her speech.
“She’s asked you to take the floor.”
I snapped my head toward him. “W-what?”
“It will be fine,” he assured me. “My guards will escort you down and remain in the stairwell.”
“Danill.” For the first time, I used his given name without prompting, and it rushed out on a terrified whimper.
“I have no claim on you.” He took my hand, his thumb sliding over his bangle. “I’m not allowed to stand with you without an understanding between us.”
The temptation to accept his offer of alliance beat under my skin. The only thing that stopped me from sinking to my knees at his feet and begging was the fact he had known this was coming. Whatever she intended, whatever was about to happen, he had strolled in here tonight armed with that knowledge. And he had refused to share it with me.
The same survival instinct that had kept me alive this long roared to wakefulness.
Volkov had already admitted he excelled in giving people what they desired most. Wasn’t that what he had done for me? I craved safety, and he offered me protection in tiny bites that were easy for me to swallow. Guards at the house. An escort to the inauguration. Even the bangle made a powerful statement in that as long as I wore it, our dealings were one hundred percent consensual. For a person who’d had so little choice in her life, it made for a much more potent lure than his own.
All these guards, all for show. What good were they when I would stand on that floor alone?
“I have to do this on my own.” Truth gave the words an extra punch of bravado I didn’t feel. The wrap snagged on my chairback and slid off my shoulders as I stood. I didn’t have it in me to retrieve it, and I waved off the guard when he offered me assistance. That left me holding my bag, and I wasn’t convinced I could manage that either. “Hold my purse?”
“Of course.” He offered a faint smile. “I’ll be right here.”
Putting one foot in front of the other, I exited into the stairwell and climbed down. The guards followed at a safe distance, close enough I could call out for them but not so near they quelled the roiling in my gut over the fact Volkov remained in his seat. A silent ultimatum.
I paused in the shadowed archway, sucked in a breath, and then I was striding forward to greet my fate.
The Grande Dame arranged her expression into a welcoming smile with a benevolent yet sad undertone.
“My darling niece,” she murmured. “I’m so glad you came.”
I curtsied, which seemed more prudent than snapping out, What choice did I have?
“Please join me in welcoming Grier Woolworth, everyone.” Her strong voice projected to every corner of the room. A beat of stunned silence preceded a smattering of confused claps. “Many of you have asked why I chose to ascend to Grande Dame. The reasons are simple. Our justice system is flawed. I witnessed this firsthand five years ago when my niece was convicted of murdering my dear sister, Maud, and I am humbled to stand before you on this momentous night to witness true justice served.”
A profound hush silenced the amphitheater, and my knees quivered beneath my skirts.
To her right, the former Grande Dame, Abayomi Balewa, flinched as if the words had stricken her, but she covered her reaction with a regal nod to her successor and joined my aunt to address the masses.
“There was no public trial held for Grier Woolworth,” Balewa began. “The matter of her guilt was settled behind closed doors out of respect for Maud and her family, and out of necessity due to the privileged nature of her work for the Society.” Her knuckles pushed against her skin where she gripped the balcony railing. “The evidence available at the time convinced us, convinced me, of Grier’s guilt. The heinous nature of the crime demanded our highest punishment, and I meted out a penance of equal severity.”
The Grande Dame looked on, wearing an earnest mask tinged with the exact right amounts of understanding and forgiveness. Two words I bet she’d have to Google for a definition.
“Within hours of Maud’s death, her heir, the child she raised and loved as her own, was stripped of her title, her fortune and her freedom,” Balewa continued, “and I will carry the shame of my actions for the rest of my life. That is why, after serving the Society faithfully for the last seventy-nine years, I chose to step down and relinquish my title.” At long last her gaze settled on me, and there was nothing remorseful in her expression. “Tonight, it is my great pleasure to announce that my last act as Grande Dame is to restore Grier Woolworth to her rightful place within the Society.”
Murmurs rumbled through the crowd, growing louder as the implications set in.
“You mentioned the available evidence convinced you of her guilt,” a Low Society matron called. “What new information exonerated her?”
The present and former Grande Dames exchanged a loaded glance that resulted in my aunt stepping forward while Balewa reclaimed her seat.
“I never gave up hope that one day Grier might be vindicated. I never stopped searching for answers.” The faint tremor in her voice was quite convincing if you overlooked the glacier coldness in her eyes. “A recent health scare—” she placed one hand over her heart “—turned out to be the key to unlocking the mystery.”
Insidious whispers hissed from the dark corners. A Grande Dame admitting a public weakness was a bigger treat than catching beads thrown in Tybee Island’s annual Mardi Gras parade.
“My sister was, as you all know, a brilliant practitioner. She was also enthusiastic in her pursuit of knowledge to the point of being careless with her own health.” Unable to produce a tear, she ducked her head and dashed her fingertips under her dry eyes. “Upon reexamining the evidence from that horrible night, it has been determined that Maud died of a heart attack. It’s rare, but not unheard of, and more common in necromancers her age. The Woolworth line, in particular, is susceptible. Our own mother, Nina Compton Woolworth, died of such an ailment. I myself am now under a physician’s care to monitor my own condition.”
A woman in the High Society balcony stood and waited until the Grande Dame acknowledged her with a curt nod.
“I saw the child marched into the Lyceum that night with my own eyes,” she argued. “She was drenched in Maud’s blood. What say you to that?”
“Grier was trained as an assistant, not as a practitioner, so your question is a valid one. Grier discovered Maud that night, and, in her grief, she granted Maud’s dying wish.” She gestured to the Low Society woman seated on her left, and the woman passed her a heart-shaped box with the heft of solid gold. “My niece was in shock when she performed the Culmination. You can imagine how traumatic that must have been for such a young girl, let alone one who had never witnessed the ceremony until she found herself duty-bound to complete Maud’s last rites.”
The woman inclined her head and sat. Or that’s how I interpreted the movement from the corner of my eye. I was unable to peel my gaze from the ornate box the Grande Dame held in her hands.
Pain jarred my kneecaps, the room shot upward like I was back on the elevator, and I descended into nothingness.
“Grier.”
Someone called my name, but there were so many faces, too many faces, all staring down at me as I knelt there unable to stand, barely able to lift my head.
Maud’s heart was in that box. Her heart.
Bile stung the back of my throat, and I clamped my teeth together to keep it down.
A gasp rose throughout the room when a man leapt from the second balcony, landing in a crouch. He gritted his teeth when he stood and limped as he crossed to me, but I had never been happier to see Boaz in my entire life. I curled against his broad chest and sobbed into his starched shirtfront while the Society glared daggers at my back.
“It appears my niece is overcome by her good fortune,” the Grande Dame announced. “You there,” she called down to Boaz. “Escort her to my chambers.”
“I got you, Squirt.” He exhaled sharply when he stood but ignored his pain long enough to haul me to my feet. “Lean on me. That’s it.” He wrapped his arm around my waist and tucked me against his side. “I’ll stay with you until they pry me off, okay?”
“Okay,” I murmured, hiding my face against his ribs.
“Mr. Volkov would like to accompany the heiress.”
The heiress.
Well, that was one mystery solved.
Feeling a hundred years old, I drew back enough to look into the eyes of one of Volkov’s guards. “No.”
That harsh syllable was all the fire I had left in me.
“You heard the lady.” Boaz shouldered past the guard and held me close while we shuffled down a long, dark hallway. “New boyfriend is pushy, huh?”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” Right now, I couldn’t imagine so much as accepting a ride home from him. “I’m not sure if he’s a friend period.”
We reached a doorway flanked by sentinels, and Boaz shouldered them aside as he had the vampire guards. Grande Dame Lawson waited for us in an oversized wooden chair positioned behind a blocky antique desk that dwarfed her. The eyesore belonged in a captain’s cabin on a pirate ship, not in the hallowed halls of the Lyceum. Again, a few rogue brain cells paused to wonder at the origin of these incongruous bits of our history while the others scattered at the sight of the box centered before her.