Chapter Three—The Ball

But I wasn’t proud—I knew to ask for help when I needed it, and I most certainly needed it. The design program on my datapad wasn’t exactly what I would call intuitive, and although I had designed a piece or two in my wardrobe that didn’t look as though it had been sketched by a five-year-old, I knew I needed expert assistance if I were to design a genuine stunner of a ball gown.

So that’s what had me lingering post-lesson in the nursery, even as Tox and Pim had turned their attentions away from me and to one of the myriad of games on the floor-to-ceiling shelves on either side of the broad picture window.

“Are you looking forward to the party?” I asked, even as Pim stood on tip toe to reach a box on one of the higher shelves. I quietly marveled that these boys, with all the universe’s technology at their fingertips, continued to opt for games played with figurines and bits of cut cardboard. It was rather refreshing, actually.

“Very much,” Tox said, as Pim was preoccupied in trying to reach the box; his tongue was sort of hanging out to one side as he strained his arm up. I smiled, moving to the far side of the room where a step stool stood folded against the wall. I fetched it and set it up next to Pim. He proffered a smile and used it to hoist himself up and snatch the box he’d been aiming for.

“And what do you think of Blanche?” I asked, aware that I was venturing into potentially dangerous territory. “As a companion for your father, and…your new stepmother?”

Tox and Pim both wrinkled their nose at one another but forced themselves thereafter to smooth their expressions. “Mm,” Tox hummed, as he and Pim moved to the center of the room with their game, “she’s all right.”

They sat cross-legged on the rug and set the box between them. I couldn’t read the writing on the box, and realized for the first time that this game, this simple cardboard and plastic game, wasn’t from this planet at all. In moments like these, I thought that we humans had much more in common with our Ivaldan brethren than most of us readily realized.

“She’s very…” Pim said, opening the box and scooping out the pieces of the game, “beautiful…” He said it like a question, lilting up at the end as though he wasn’t sure it was the truth.

“She is,” I agreed, because she was. But I wondered if perhaps that wasn’t all she was. I scowled internally: apparently, it was enough. “And she’ll undoubtedly have a beautiful dress to wear to the party.”

“Mmhm,” the boys agreed. I should not have been surprised that two twelve-year-old boys had better things to consider than pretty dresses girls wore at parties. I would have to take a less subtle approach if I was going to enlist their help.

“I was wondering,” I said at last, coming to sit down with them on the rug, “if you boys might not help me with my dress?”

They looked up at me and beamed, and I noticed that Tox’s teeth were poker straight, and Pim’s had just a bit of irregularity, and it made me warm to them even more.

“Of course we’ll help you,” Pim said.

“Of course,” echoed Tox.

“You’re prettier than Ms. Ingram, anyhow,” Pim went on, and Tox was nodding.

“Am I?” I laughed. “How kind of you to say. What makes you think so?”

The boys looked at one another, and Tox sort of shrugged. “We just know you,” he said. “And that makes you pretty.” Sweet child.

“Give to me,” Pim said eagerly, making grabby hands at my necklace. I reached back and unclasped it and Pim crawled forward to receive the necklace. He took my hand and pressed my thumb against the back of the pendant, and it began its easy transformation back into a datapad.

Pim opened the design program and Tox scrambled to his side, peering over his shoulder as he worked. “What do you think?” Pim said aloud, for my benefit alone. Tox looked up at me and considered me levelly.

“Blue?” Tox said, and I waited without input, knowing that whatever design they came up with would be impeccable, would be just the dress I would have picked out for myself if I had all the dresses in the world to choose from. “Pink!” shouted Tox. Well—perhaps not.

“Maybe not pink,” I interjected mildly.

“Certainly not,” Pim said with a scowl at his brother. “She’s got too much pink in her skin; she’d look like a walking rash.” Tox giggled a bit, eliciting a smile from his very serious brother.

“How will you do your hair and makeup?” Pim asked, swiping away at the screen.

“I don’t know,” I said, trying to venture a peek at the screen, which Pim hid from me.

“I’ll have Tox add something for hair and makeup, then,” Pim muttered, and handed the tablet over to Tox, who got to work. “He’s better at it than me.”

“Takes more attention to detail,” Tox explained as he cradled the datapad in his lap and hunched over it. “Speaking of which—I’ve added…to the dress?” He showed Pim the tablet for his approval, which he got with a ready nod if Pim’s head.

“We’re not going full Cinderella over here, just so you know,” Pim said, leaning back on his hands, his attention wandering now that he wasn’t in command of the design.

“That’s fine—that’s good,” I said, and I felt a flicker of excitement somewhere inside of me. I was going to a proper ball, and I’d have a proper dress, and that is certainly an experience I was unlikely to have had in the old world.

“There,” Tox said with a finishing flourish. He pressed a button on the screen and the datapad coiled into itself like sandy water running down a drain, until it glowed gold and became my aquamarine necklace once more. Tox handed it over to me, and I put it back on.

“Shouldn’t I see it?” I asked. “The design?”

But Pim only smiled. “You trust us,” he said, and I did. “So, just wait.”

~ * ~

I didn’t see Kaz much in the intervening days between the dinner where the party was announced and the party itself. Sure, he was at my table each night, and he spared me the odd glance, but we were never alone together. Except once.

I had been finishing up with Tox and Pim and our lessons for the day had run late. We were talking about tectonic plates, and the boys had become obsessed with earthquakes and wanted to know what a bad one felt like, so they had been going through old videos of terribly devastating quakes and asking me all sorts of questions. At any rate, I was pleased at their level of engagement with the topic and was loathe to cut the conversation short, so I let them go on and on until an extra hour had lapsed, and my attention began to wander a bit. I bid the boys farewell, and they spared me a wave without drawing their attention away from the videos in which they were engaged, and I slipped out of the nursery. And I nearly ran smack into Master Kain. Again.

“Oh, excuse me,” I said, trying to sidle around him, but he caught me by the arm.

“Jane,” he said. And then he said no more, and we were just sort of staring at one another. I could feel a blush rising in my cheeks, the way I always did when he stared at me like that, like I was a slab of meat to be devoured, but also like I was a precious gemstone behind a thick pane of glass. Finally, he spoke again.

“Are you happy here, Jane?”

And I nodded, because I was. Relatively speaking. “I love those two boys in there,” I said. Kaz smiled a little, though if I am not mistaken there was a twinge of sadness in his expression.

“Yes, they’re good lads,” he said, his tone warm with fondness. I wondered at his inflection, given that his vocal chords were artificial. I wondered if he had to concentrate to indicate his tone, or if the nanites in his throat were somehow connected to his brain, as fluidly as the fibrous tissues of my own vocal chords were an inherent and connected part of me.

“I want to congratulate you on your impending engagement,” I said, clasping my hands in front of me. I was wearing a black collared shirt that I had designed for myself, and I wished that I had worn something the boys had made for me. I must have looked rather a mess. But Kaz didn’t seem to notice—he apparently only had eyes for Ms. Ingram now anyway.

“Yes,” he said, “I thank you.” I turned to go, but he caught me once more by the arm. He was always tugging at me, when it was just the two of us, tugging me closer to him, always closer. “You will be there,” he said, less of a question than a command.”

“Yes, I’ll be there,” I said. “It’s the first formal party I’ve ever been invited to. I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good,” he said, “good. I think you will enjoy yourself. I hope you will.”

“And how are you getting on with Ms. Ingram?” I asked, and he arched one broad shoulder in a shrug.

“I see very little of her.” I wasn’t entirely certain that he wasn’t toying with me a little. See very little of her could very well mean that he spends time with her primarily when the lights are off. Or perhaps I was reading too much into it.

“At any rate, she seems very fond of you,” I said, inclining my head and picking at my nail beds, “and you could do worse than a doting wife.”

“I could do much better, too,” he muttered and cast a furtive glance towards the nursery door.

“I won’t keep you,” I said, and turned on my heel to go. This time he did not stop me.

And that was the only private conversation he and I had in those intervening days. I admit that I was avoiding him a little—it was easier for me to keep my wits about me when he wasn’t around, so when I was forced to be near him (as I was each night at dinner), I would focus my attention on my plate, or on Sarah Reed or Alice Fairfax, on the boys, and on Blanche Ingram, even, just so long as I wasn’t looking into those otherworldly eyes of his. I would respond when spoken to, of course, but I would engage in no conversation that was outside of the confines of our business arrangement. I was there to do a job, and I was being paid well for it. Each week, I saw my little stash of credits grow and grow in my online account, and I knew that after a few more months of this, I’d have enough to go somewhere else and start over. And then I wouldn’t spend all my energy avoiding those eyes.

He could tell I was avoiding him as well—and so much the better. But it stoked his temper one night at dinner when I neglected to pay attention to him, and he snapped at the table when it was clear I wasn’t listening to him.

“Ms. Fairfax,” he said, his tone clipped and sharp, “would you kindly ask Ms. Lockewood to write up a report for me regarding the education of my sons, since she utterly refuses to do so over the dinner table?” I looked up then, and caught the owl eyes of Alice Fairfax, who stammered, not sure if she was actually supposed to repeat him or not.

“Forgive me, Master Kain,” I said coolly. “I did not hear you. What is it you wish to know?” My addressing him directly didn’t quell his ire, but he found that he could not carry on in so petulant a manner, so he quieted.

“I’d only like to know how things are going with the boys,” he said, bending forward to take a bite of his food, a roast pheasant that he did not seem to care for over much.

“They’re fine,” I said, and offered a thin little smile. “Should you require a more detailed report, I would be happy to submit one in writing for your perusal.”

All he could do then was nod his head. And all I could do was finish my meal without sparing him another glance.

~ * ~

The day of the main event, all typical daily routines were suspended. The boys were left to play their games or go swimming in the pool, and I was left to wander the halls of Thornfield as the house staff set about preparing for the party that night. Exotic flower arrangements were being shuttled into the dining room, and the living room was being cleared of its furniture to make way for a bandstand and a dance floor. And Alice Fairfax was the grand maestro of the whole thing, pointing and directing, telling everyone precisely where each thing was to be set. I sat on the grand staircase and watched them work, excited but trying to stay out of the way.

The dining room table was done up buffet style with servers and floral arrangements, square paper napkins in twisted stacks, and small china plates beside them. Swaths of red velvet were hung against the walls, candelabra lit so that the entire place felt almost medieval.

The string quartet arrived an hour before the event was to begin, and I sat on the stairs and listened to them warm up, tuning their instruments to the Violin’s perfectly pitched A. They played snippets of their repertoire in dazzling bundles of notes, chatting amongst themselves all the while.

It was Ms. Fairfax herself who urged me to get going. She came down in her familiar black frock, allowing herself the adornment of a diamond encrusted brooch in the shape of a swan on the front of her dress. She looked very fine, I thought, if a little severe. “Shoo,” she said, with a wave of her fingers, “up the stairs with you. You won’t want to be late.”

And I obeyed, except I think I did want to be late. Just a little. I wanted to arrive when the party had already started, blend easily in with the crowd. I wasn’t exactly comfortable standing out.

So I made my way up the stairs and headed at a leisurely pace toward my room—for the first time in several weeks, I was in a genuinely good mood. I was excited about the party, about seeing some new faces, enjoying some fine food, and finally getting to see the gown that the boys had designed for me. And I wasn’t even thinking about Kaz. Nope, not even a little.

Maybe just a little.

But as I reached my bedroom door, I felt a gust of air and heard the patter of heeled feet as Blanche darted past me and went to her own door. She was a blur of blond hair and movement as she threw her door open and stole away inside, letting the heavy wood door slam shut behind her.

“Blanche?” I said, brow furrowed. I moved toward her room and pressed my ear to the door, lifting my knuckles to rap gently at the wood. “Blanche, are you all right?”

I could hear the muffled sounds of a girl who had thrown herself face down on the bed to have a good cry, so I knocked a little louder. “Blanche, what’s going on?”

“Just leave me alone!” came her sharp reply.

Fine—I was late enough as it was and couldn’t be bothered to deal with whatever crisis of fashion Blanche Ingram happened to be having on her Big Night. So I pressed my hand to the door and hoped she heard me when I said, “Well, let me know if you need anything.”

I made my way back to my own room and drew myself a bath, not really indulging in the luxury of the jacuzzi jets. I washed my hair, shaved my legs, and climbed out to towel off with as much celerity as thoroughness would allow. I wrapped a towel around my hair and used the heel of my hand to wipe the steam from the bathroom mirror before I picked up my pendant from where I’d left it on the counter. I pressed my thumb to the back of it and watched as it transformed itself, flattening and stretching and darkening, into my datapad. When it was finished, I ran my fingertip across the screen and watched it come to life. I pulled up the data thread for the design, before inputting the password that would turn the datapad back into a necklace and get the nanites working on whatever it was the boys had planned.

Once the recognizable shape of my necklace had reappeared, I picked it up off the countertop and clasped it around my neck. Then I tugged the towel I’d wrapped my hair away and set it on the counter.

I examined my reflection impassively, indulging in a momentary bout of self-loathing as I gave the thick flesh of my belly a squeeze. But then, I reminded myself, the little bit extra around the middle also allowed for a pair of what I considered to be considerably above average breasts. I raked my fingers through my damp brown curls and smiled.

I watched as the nanites came to life in a dim grey flurry of activity, like a storm cloud. They moved up and down my body until the line of the gown began to take shape. It was like magic in slow motion, like the moment where Cinderella spun around as the godmother’s fairy dust made her drag rags into a glittering gown in a burst of sparkle. It was like that, but not exactly. No sparkle, for one, and it wasn’t a burst so much as an unfurling.

But when the gown was complete, it felt no less magical than if it’d been conjured out of honest-to-God fairy dust: the boys had designed me a sleeveless column gown with surplice neckline and an empire waist, out of an exquisite emerald green fabric. But the most extraordinary part was the beaded detailing. Like something out of the Great Gatsby, I glittered. This was it. This was the dress that I would have chosen, if I’d had the pick of every dress in the world. “Well done, boys,” I whispered to my reflection, even as the remaining cloud of nanites moved north.

I instinctively closed my eyes and let the atom-sized machines get to work on my hair and makeup, silently wishing them luck with my unruly mop of brown curls. I guess I should not have been surprised when I got the beeping of an error message halfway through the hair design. The Ivaldans didn’t have hair, so this was a modification of their program for their human counterparts, and apparently all of the kinks hadn’t been worked out.

I wasn’t sure what to do with an error message coming from the dress I was wearing, so I just sort of stood there and gaped for a moment. At least the makeup looked lovely: dark kohl around my eyes, making the green of them really pop right along with the green of my dress. A pale pink lip complemented lightly rouged cheeks, but really, the eyes were the focal point.

The hair, well. It’s no wonder that the nanites gave up. After a moment, the remaining nanites collected around my neck and became the familiar necklace once more, except this time they were emeralds in gold instead of aquamarine. A little too matchy-matchy for my taste, but I trusted the boys to do right by my look, so I didn’t change it.

“Now, what to do about you,” I said to my hair, and began searching the bathroom for styling implements. Finding none, I decided to enlist the help of Tox and Pim and snuck out of my room to find them. But they weren’t in the nursery, and they weren’t roving the upper halls, so they must have already joined the party.

I didn’t dare go downstairs with my hair frizzy as it was, so I returned to my room, and went back into the bathroom. There, on the counter in front of the mirror, was an absolutely stunning hair comb. It was made out of solid gold and bore the outline of a peacock in multicolored crystals. It was heavy in my hand, but it would do perfectly. I wondered if I hadn’t just missed one of the boys when I went out to find them.

I twisted my curls up and secured them with the comb, and while the look wasn’t as polished as I’d hoped, it was definitely more me: curls spilling up over the comb, gentle tendrils coming down to frame my face.

I allowed myself a cursory glance in the mirror, but there was nothing to add. The boys had even designed a dainty pair of gold teardrop earrings and a set of gold bangles to complement the look. And the shoes were gold, with only a small hell because the boys must have somehow known that anything more would have sent me tumbling. That’s it, then. I was ready.

I made my way out of my bedroom, and I could hear the voice drifting up from the party below. The quartet was playing away, and I felt like a princess in the days of yore. It was, truth be told, a wonderful feeling, and I decided that I would pretend the party was for me instead of Blanche, except that I would have the benefit of drifting back into obscurity when it was all over.

I trailed my hand over the smooth, polished wood of the bannister as I made my way down the stairs, instinctively searching out familiar faces. I grinned at Tox and Pim, who had stationed themselves by the buffet table and were eating shrimp so fast you’d think it was a race. Sarah Reed was looking lovely in slinky black number with cherry red lipstick, and of course Ms. Fairfax was looking fine. But I didn’t see Master Kain, or Blanche.

What I did see were more Ivaldans in one place than I ever had before. They made up easily one-half of the party, their horns of different shades and colors glinting in the firelight. They were taller, broader, than we humans, and there wasn’t a female among them. Their dress was severe, almost militaristic, with finely cut, high-necked suits in black or grey each boasting differently ornamented lapel pins with chains that crisscrossed in front.

But there was as much variation in their looks as there were in human men, and I could find no other Ivaldan that I thought was as handsome as Master Kain.

I wended my way through the crowd—and no, the crowd did not hush and look my way as I descended the staircase. Not actually. Only in my mind, maybe. I made my way toward the dance floor, but no one was dancing. There were a group of people, however, just standing there to enjoy the music of the quartet. So, after snagging a glass of champagne off the tray of a passing server, I decided to join them.

Among the small crowd was Blanche Ingram herself, looking more beautiful than anyone else in the room. She wore a gown in candy apple red silk, with an A-Line frame and a sweetheart neckline. Her accessories included a black silk choker with a golden circlet at her throat, and her blonde hair was styled into a perfect knot at the side of her head. Red. Of course she wore red.

I pressed past a few people, squeezed between a few others, and moved to stand beside her. “Blanche,” I said, just loud enough to be heard over the music, “you look gorgeous.”

She turned to look at me, then, her gunmetal grey eyes full of something sharp, like she wished she could kill me with a glance. She didn’t even bother responding to me, just turned on her heel and walked away from the quartet. I was left there to stare with owl-eyes after her.

Maybe it was that encounter that set the tone for the entire evening, but no one really talked to me. Granted, I wasn’t the best at making small talk, but I did try.

“I just love shrimp, don’t you?” I said to one of the Ivaldan emissaries. But then a balding human man with thick glasses responded on his behalf.

“He doesn’t have vocal chords, and cannot reply, and furthermore does not eat seafood.”

“Ah,” I replied, as the Ivaldan just stared down at me. Very well, more shrimp for me.

I guess I thought maybe I’d actually meet someone new, someone interesting, at the party, but that was basically impossible since I seemed to say only all the wrong things.

“So hot in here, am I right?” I commented, fanning myself with my hand, and completely forgetting that Ivaldans liked it hot. After that, I basically gave up.

Sarah Reed found me sulking in a corner and brought me my second glass of champagne. “Not enjoying the party?” she asked, but she wasn’t looking at me; she was allowing her heavy gaze to rove over the room, as though she were scanning for some sort of target.

“No one is talking to me,” I pouted.

“It isn’t actually your fault,” she remarked, “well, not entirely.”

“What do you mean?”

She turned to me then and patted me on the hand, the way you might an idiot who just wasn’t grasping something fundamental.

“Most of the people here are looking for companions,” she remarked. “They would have received a catalogue of available men and women before they arrived, and they would not have seen your name or face among them.” She inclined her head slightly and swept an errant lock of black hair out of her eyes. “Don’t take it personally, Ms. Lockewood. And if you decide you’d like to be put on the market, so to speak, do let me know.”

She patted my hand again and drifted off into the crowd once more. So this was a glorified meat market, and I wasn’t on the menu. So much for my fairy tale fantasies. Buck up, I thought, drinking down the contents of my champagne flute, and making my way once more toward the buffet table where there stood two friendly faces with whom I was sure to have a good chat: Tox and Pim, still gorging themselves on shrimp.

“What do you think of the dress?” Asked Tox.

“Yes, what do you think?” Echoed Pim.

“I think you boys have outdone yourselves,” I said, setting my empty glass aside so that I could squeeze them both on the shoulder. “I think it was just as I imagined: that if I could have any gown in the known universe, this is the only I would pick for myself.”

They beamed their bright, toothy smiles at me, and we began to talk about shrimp, which seemed to be the sole focus of their worlds. “Did you know that some shrimp dance?” Asked Tox, and I shook my head. “Mmhm, to attract fish. Species known as cleaning shrimp wave their antennae around to do a little dance and attract fish. These are friendly shrimp who wander into the open mouths of the fish they attract in order to remove bloodsucking parasites.”

“It’s true,” confirmed Pim. “And did you know that other species of shrimp are the loudest marine animals on this planet?”

“That’s also true,” said Tox. And I smiled, and the night was saved. It turned out that all I needed was the company of two bright young men and an ample supply of hors d'oeuvres in order to enjoy myself. So eventually I lost track of time, until the grandfather clock in the foyer struck eight, and Ms. Fairfax climbed up onto the stage that the quartet was occupying, a wireless microphone in hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she announced, as the lot of us turned to give her our attention, “On behalf of Master Kain, I would like to welcome you to Thornfield Hall this evening. This has been a landmark year for humans and Ivaldans alike, as we continue to live amongst each other as friends and allies.”

This garnered a smattering of half-hearted applause from an audience who was more interested in getting drunk and finding someone to take to bed than it was in politics. I couldn’t say I blamed them.

“And it is in the name of our friendship that I would like to introduce to our host for the evening, Master Kain himself, who has an exciting announcement to make.” A little more applause this time as Kaz took the stage, shaking hands with Ms. Fairfax during the tradeoff.

And all eyes were on him, then, rapt. He was quite a regal sight to behold in his high-necked jacket, tapered at the waist. On his shoulders were veritable pauldrons in brushed silver: they looked almost like flames, and they were connected with two silver chains that crisscrossed at his sternum. He wore straight-legged black pants that tucked into calf-high boots of shining black leather, and I had never in my life seen anyone more beautiful than Kazimir Kain. Even Ms. Ingram dimmed in his light.

His sharp blue eyes scanned the crowd and alighted on me, and I swear I saw the faintest hint of a smile. But then he looked away, and I felt myself deflate if only slightly once his attention was elsewhere.

“Good evening,” he said in his sonorous baritone into the mic. He had one hand behind his back, and he stood rigid, like a captain at the helm. His skin was pale, his horns were polished, and if I didn’t know him, I would be terrified of him.

“This evening is about continuing to celebrate how far our species have come, but also to mark the dawning of a new age: the age wherein our species cease to remain separate and begin to create a new breed, a hybrid. Our kind have had the, shall we say, casual liaison,” a good-humored chuckle rolled through the crowd as the good ole boys patted one another on the back. “But the time has come for a more formal foray into the world of cross-breeding, to see what is truly possible for the future of this planet.” He cleared his throat, and I wondered again if it was a necessity or an affectation, for it did make him seem much more human than he was. Much more human than, in fact, he looked.

“To that end,” he went on, standing a little straighter, “I would like to formally announce my engagement to a human woman.” And then, he looked straight at me. “If she’ll have me.”

I don’t know, maybe I’m an idiot, but it didn’t hit home at first. I lifted my hands right along with everyone else to applaud as Kaz made his way through the crowd. Toward me. I started to search for Ms. Ingram, who was pushing through the crowd to head to the staircase, and I think I might have even been pointing at her, when Kaz bent the knee in front of me.

“These are not our traditions,” he murmured, taking my hand in his, “but they are yours. And it is my hope that we can find a middle ground in all things. Together.”

I blinked, my head swirling, and for a moment I thought I might actually faint right there in front of everyone. Keep your shit together, Jane, I silently admonished myself and let him hold my hand, down on one knee as he was, right in front of me.

“I know that this is not what you expected—coming to Thornfield or attending this party tonight. But you must have known, from the first, that there could have been no other.” He produced a ring from the pocket of his dress slacks, and held it up to me, and it gleamed as though it contained a star system inside it.

The band was gold and simple, because the gem was the real feature. Opalescent almost, but clear, like a prism that was also its own source of light, the stone was princess cut and stunning. “This isn’t some…nanite recreation. This is a stone from my home planet. And now, if you’ll have it, it’s yours.” He slid the gem onto my finger, and I stood there, mute.

“Be mine, Jane. Will you?” Those eyes of his were full of questions, and I reached my free hand down to brush my fingertips across the line of his jaw.

“Of course,” I said, before I had even made up my mind one way or another. Because I think, ultimately, I was already his. Completely.

He smiled up at me and rose to his feet, encircling me with his arms as the room around us broke into a raucous round of applause. He held me tight, and I held him back, and it was better than even my wildest fairy tale fantasies.

I was so wrapped up in him that I hardly noticed the dozen or so people who had turned their silent backs on us and were making their way out of the crowded hall. I didn’t see them; I didn’t see anyone, not really. Only Kaz. Only him.