My grey eyes gather the shadows of the room, sharp and achromatic. Calculating. I smooth down my burnt scarlet dress, adjusting the drawstrings of the corset myself. My stomach clenches. Larissa's laugh, a sound I buried deep beneath my bones, prowls through my mind. Unwelcome. Insistent. A sound that once drew giggles from me. Now, the phantom sound only draws tears from my eyes, and I taste salt as they dribble down my cheeks. I take a hairpin and tuck the curls at the front of my face around the back of my head, my fingers trembling. Grief curls and roars in my stomach today. I miss Larissa, her giggles, her spirit. I miss soft feminine energy. The safe feeling. Can I indulge in the softness of girlhood? The skinned knees, hair braiding, reading, running.
This dress, the red, as if I am wearing a gown of all the blood I have shed, and made shed, feels like tacky, sticky tar. It feels like war. I grumble, and peel the whole thing off, tossing it into a pile in the corner. I am the Red Leaf no longer.
Today, I wish for darkness or girlhood. Since I cannot have girlhood, I pluck a dress the shade of coal from the wardrobe and pull it on, yanking the corset drawstrings again. My vision blurs as I arrange my red hair around my shoulders, letting the curls do as they please. Wiping the tears away, I smudge some kohl on my eyelids and draw around my eye line. Those grey eyes are a writhing storm. And I am swathed in shadows. The darkness between the stars.
Music floats up from the floor below, note by note, humming in my ribs. I add some silver teardrop-shaped earrings and another silver chain necklace that only reaches my collarbones. Lastly, I grab my knives and strap them around my thigh, fastening the belt tight so it won't slip. The pool of shadow skirt swishes around me as I exit the bedroom, and march down the corridors towards the ballroom. But not before making a stop at the Red Movement chambers. Purposefully running late, I arrive in the chambers at the perfect time. The room is vacant and lonely, but speckled with candlelight as I scuttle in, and spill a droplet of my blood into the large vase. As I turn to leave, some coughs and splutters in one of the bedrooms. I freeze. My heart leaps into my throat.
I reach for my knives. But the coughing stops. I narrow my eyes, and back out of the room. My breath loosens as I stride through the polished halls, past portraits of people I had a hand in killing, and towards the music, which flows bold and brash out of the ballroom like a sure river. I try to ignore the scratch against my skull as I gather my wits and step into the room. My cheeks blaze as dozens of heads turn my way. The ballroom is a sea of people from all over the kingdom. Convex and Concaves. Sirens. Red Movement people, decipherable by the red leaf embroidered into the clothing or the deep beast-like scars on their faces, over their scalps, or along their arms. I shake my head. Can they not let red leaf go, too?
I chew the inside of my cheek, trying to stop smirking as I notice the sweat gleaming off their faces. The pallid skin. The drooping eyes.
An arm loops in mine. Ajax's woodfire and citrus smell calms my puttering heart. "I hope you aren't planning on toppling any kings in that dress," he says, in a low voice.
"Not tonight. I'm always ready but I could settle for a simple dance."
He chuckles and leads me through the crowds, which part as we approach, their scornful, envious gazes burning into me. Edward and Ruben stand together at the far end of the ballroom, across the room from the musicians and closest to the bar. They are laughing. Together. Ruben drinks dark wine from a goblet whereas Edward looks like he brought his glass of whiskey from his room. Both brothers catch sight of my approach and stare at me. Ruben presses his lips together, his Adam's apple bobbing. Edward's lip quivers and his brows pull together. Then his mouth tugs upward.
"I sincerely hope you will not leave tonight without a dance, Elle," he says.
"You will have to earn it," I say, sticking my chin into the air. "Did I just witness you two getting along?"
YOU ARE READING
After the Walls
Fantasy[Book 3 of the Within the Walls Trilogy] Who is Elle Fallon? Is she a selfless hero? Or is she a girl driven to madness trying to protect the ones she loves? Months have passed since the battle beyond the walls and rumour has it she has chosen to...
