Chapter 9

- Elly -

Elly wandered the streets quite aimlessly for a while, too overwhelmed to care how people regarded her. Castermere, a city, was really something else entirely. Houses were bigger, streets were longer, everything was louder. It even smelled different than the village she had known all her life, not necessarily better, though. So many places were sparkling with wealth, others were grey scars of misery.

When Elly remembered herself, she blushed and carefully went about asking people for her aunt's street.

She arrived at an estate she could have only dreamed of. At least three times as big as the house Elly and her family lived in, clean white walls, neat roof and a spacy garden.

Elly had received fancy gifts from her aunt every now and then, admired her nice dresses, but she had never known how wealthy her aunt had really been.

Little nervous Elly knocked on the door and was steered in by a butler who might have been the old Baron's age. He looked nothing like him though, he was much taller, had much more hair and no beard.

"So you really came," the voice of a woman startled Elly. She turned to find her the splitting image of her mother, same round cheeks and grey eyes, just the hair a bit shorter, twisted to a bun at the side.

Tears prickled in Elly's throat.

"Your father sent me a letter the moment you disappeared," the aunt said. She strode through the arched entry room on soft steps, soundless like a cat, despite the extravagant purple laced dress she wore.

"I-I had no choice," Elly said.

"Are you pregnant?"

"What? No!" Elly exclaimed in offense. "I did not sleep with the Count!"

The woman stepped closer to look at Elly from head to toe, circled her once, then pulled at her shawl and gave a noise of surprise at the sight of the loss of hair.

"I was told I had the fleas," Elly explained with a hollow voice. She stubbornly stared ahead, biting her lips.

"Did you let the stable boy tumble you as well?"

Elly hugged herself tightly, anger drove tears down her cheeks. "I did not sleep with anyone," she pressed out.

"I am not judging. I just need to know what to do with you. I can hardly afford myself, let alone a bastard child of yours." Her aunt's eyes wandered down to Elly's stomach, searching for the smallest bulge of a growing infant.

"I am still a virgin!"

"Whatever you say. But if not, I dare you lie to me. We'll both go to ruin."

A sob shook Elly. She had wanted to escape such situations by leaving Burgate. It was mortifying that not even her own family believed in her.

Her aunt gave a sigh, hugged the girl and gently stroke her head. Then she let go to take both of Elly's hand into her own and looked at her with a little smile. "Don't worry, dear. How about some hot tea while I write a note to your parents they may stop fearing for your life?"

Elly gasped of relief. A warm ache took hold of her heart.

She nodded.

Her aunt led her to a sitting room resembling those Elly knew from the castle greatly. Where the Baron had sculptures or paintings decorating the room, the walls were empty, however. All in all, there could have been more furniture.

When her aunt came back from the writing table, Elly had hardly dried her tears. The dark hole that had formed from missing her parents and loss of things dear to her could not be filled with a cup of tea. Who knew leaving home could be that lonely.

The anger that burned at her heart could not be calmed by the tea either.

"So ... " the woman said upon sitting down in the cushioned chair opposite to Elly. "What to do with you now?"

Elly didn't think she was supposed to answer to that but shrugged as response anyway. "I might work for you," she said.

"Oh, dear, no," her aunt said. "Alfred is more than enough to take care of what is left of my late husband's properties. We might need to get you married fast, despite everything."

"I am not sure I still want a husband," Elly said. She was almost certain she did not want one anymore, truthfully. The image of Sir Lanclair's pig face was burned in her mind and dared her to retch rather than giving a longing to spend the rest of her life with someone.

"It has nothing to do with wanting. A woman needs to be taken care of," the aunt said.

"You live alone, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, now, but I had a husband once," Elly's aunt said. She lowered her gaze to the golden ring she still wore on her finger. A deep sadness hushed over her face.

"You need to be introduced to the society of Castermere," she said upon looking back up. "The Earl gives a ball few days from now, that would be the perfect opportunity."

"Few days?" Elly repeated, certain she would not even manage to stand up from the couch in that time, burdened by the weight of her fate, that threatened to break over her again with tears and sobs.

"Should be enough to do something about those hair of yours, hopefully."

Elly grabbed at her shawl.

***

- Jake -

Jake clenched his fists. He meant to storm back into the Earl's study and punch them into his face. But that would have hardly helped to make the man like him more. And the fact that he needed that monster of a man to like him made him furious.

The servant who led Jake and Nathaniel outside observed them attentively and would report back the mortifying reaction to his master soon enough, and that had Jake even angrier.

"How long are you going to make that face?" Nathaniel said a while after they had left the estate. "Looking at you, one might mean you are the demon and not me."

Jake didn't answer. If he had opened his mouth only insults would have come out of it. He grabbed at the tie, removed it, then took off the jacket and would have wanted to throw both out the window.

"Find me a way to meet Sir Greenwood," Jake said when the carriage halted at the crossing where Rutger and Annabelle awaited.

"Greenwood the banker?" Nathaniel smirked. "Interesting."

Jake nodded and threw the coat over. "Make it as public as possible. I want people to talk."

Sir Greenwood was the owner of the banks of Castermere and plenty rich, even if he had no titles.

According to rumours he and the Earl were in constant battle over the most ridiculous things. If one bought a new painting, the other had to have a better one. One way or another Jake would convince the Earl to play along.

Jake unmounted. He nodded a greeting to Rutger and Annabelle, and they quickly found their way down the street to the little bar.

It was a spacy, run-down place with a filthy wooden floor and more cracks in the walls than Jake deemed safe to hold the crooked roof in place over their heads. Stale air smelled of too greasy food, sweat and misery. The guest room was rustling full of people, in even worse shape than the house, maybe that was why they didn't bother much with their surroundings.

Jake and Rutger slipped in seats at a small table in the back while Annabelle fetched drinks. Jake let his gaze wander the gathered crowd. His expression darkened the longer they sat.

"It is no use," Jake said before Annabelle could have placed the cups on the table. "Those are farmers and old men. They do not care for anything but the next coin to spend. I won't convince them with words alone."

Annabelle sat down with an unmannerly snort. "What were you expecting? The cities are even worse than the countryside."

Jake brushed a hand over his face. He didn't know what he had hoped for. Maybe a bit of good luck every now and then.

"Already lost your spirit?" Annabelle teased. "Ask the demon to bewitch you an army then. "

If only it was that easy.

Jake took a deep breath and repeated his goals in his head. One after another he read them from his mental list. Usually that gave him courage, but today he only counted things he would most likely never achieve and things he might achieve but wouldn't live long enough to enjoy.

Rutger crashed his empty cup on the floor which pulled Jake back into the now within a heartbeat. The glass pieces sprung in all directions and drew plenty attention Jake wasn't ready for. Nevertheless, he rose and climbed on top of his chair. He already knew Rutger's ways to push him without ever saying anything. How the man had such unwavering faith in him, Jake couldn't quite grasp, when all he had ever done was bring Rutger pain and troubles. All the effort couldn't smooth that over. Only once Rutger was backwhere he rightfully belonged, they would be even.

"People of Castermere," Jake finally spoke. His voice echoed through the room more powerful than he felt and turned even more eyes on him. People gasped and stretched their necks to get a better look. Even the men along the bar turned away from their drinks to regard Jake suspiciously.

He took a deep breath and swallowed his uncertainty down.

"Have you ever thought about change? "

***

- Elly -

The carriage door opened, and Elly shuddered. Her aunt placed a hand on her shoulder to encouraged her to step out of it. Entranced by glittering dresses of giggling women and frightened by staring gentlemen Elly followed her aunt past rushing servants to the ballroom through the Earl's estate.

Elly might have been awed by it, by the great halls and noble furniture, if she hadn't felt the need to melt into the shadows. Her aunt had told her about polite behaviour expected of her for the night, but Elly was on the wrong side of it all. She was a maid, a servant, meant to carry trays of food and drinks or help prepare them in the kitchen, not receive them.

"Smile," Elly's aunt whispered into her ear.

"This is all wrong. I do not belong here," Elly said.

"If you'd just stop acting like a damsel in distress, you might find you could."

Elly shook her head. The odd hair clinging there, that did not belong to her, rustled and she grabbed at it, scared they might fall off.

"Stop that," her aunt scolded and gripped at Elly's arms. "Now, straighten up, and smile."

Elly tried, but she felt like crying instead.

Her eyes snapped from crystal chandeliers hanging from the archedceiling to flowery wallpaper and decorations of white roses covering everyother inch of the room and longed for the plain wood furniture and bare whitewalls of her lost home.

She followed her aunt throughout the crowded hall hesitantly, greeted as she had been taught when people stopped to talk, and her aunt introduced her. Elly tried to remember names and faces, but she was too upset and there were too many.

Eventually her aunt seemed rather satisfied with herself and led them to a calmer corner of the room. "Not so bad, see?" she said.

Elly didn't agree. Her head was spinning and she wanted to crawl back on the couch in her aunt's place, to hide in soft blankets while Alfred brought her sweet treats.

The older woman grabbed two glasses from a servant's tray and handed one to Elly. "Now we wait. Do you still remember the dance steps?"

"Y-Yeah, I think I do," Elly said.

"You think or you do? If you can't dance properly, you'll have to talk, and neither of us wants that."

"I do."

"Good."

Elly's aunt took a big sip from her glass, faked a smile for a passing couple, emptied the glass in one go, then exchanged it for another. "Drink. It will help with the nerves," she said.

Elly sniffled at the glass, then carefully tried. It was champagne, she could tell because Elaina had stolen a bottle for them from the Baron's storage once. What a funny evening, what a horrible morning after.

Elly took another sip. By the end of the glass, she didn't feel any better, but her aunt had found diversion in talking with some friends of hers. Two women about the same age as her in dresses Elly thought too gaudy.

But all the dresses and suits the people wore at this ball were too gaudy. They were too much of everything, sparkling embroidery and screaming colours, like just being dressed was a competition. It was nothing like the noble gowns the Baron and his family usually wore.

Elly turned to replace her glass with a new one. Little dazed she bumped into a person and bowed to apologize, like servants were meant to, before she could help herself.

When she rose her head, she stood frozen.

"Now look at that," the Count said. "Quite the jump in the social hierarchy." He eyed Elly from head to toe, then smiled a little, tugging at her faked hair with a mix of fascination and curiosity.

Elly stared at him as well. He wore a suit almost the colour of his eyes, unnatural sky blue, cleancut without any unnecessary twirls and not a single piece of jewellery. Likehe knew too well, that he didn't need any glamour to look breathtaking.

"I – ah – I am here with my aunt," Elly said and took a step back. Heat rushed to her cheeks, remembering they had seen each other rather at odds the last and the circumstances that had led to that.

"The Clankwood widow, I remember. I wasn't sure you wouldn't end up in the gutter or a grave instead," the Count said.

"Thank you for your concern," Elly said, little angry, because he had indeed not displayed any. He picked up on Elly's dismay and his face darkened as well.

"Forgive my niece," Elly's aunt cut in. "She is from the countryside, I tried teaching her some manners, but it seems the lessons haven't been enough yet."

The Count rose his eyebrows at the woman.

"And who might you be, my Lord? I think I haven't seen you around much."

"I am not from Castermere," the Count simply said, and did not add another word of introduction, even when Elly's aunt clearly expected more.

"Well. Would you like to dance with my niece either way?"

"I don't suppose I should."

"Of course you should. She is a good dancer," the woman lied and impolitely grabbed at the Count's arm to push him to lead Elly to the dancefloor.

Elly gasped for air. The Count froze.

"The spirit runs in your family, hm," he remarked.

"I-I apologize greatly," Elly stuttered.

Much to Elly's surprise the Count then resumed to indeed place his arm around her waist for a dancing position.

"You don't have to ..." Elly flushed and shuddered at the same time. She had danced with Alfred during her lessons, but even then, she had been uncomfortable to be touched. Sometimes she couldn't shake the memory of that awful man, that had tried to hurt her, although she knew neither Alfred nor the Count were criminals like him.

"Don't think of yourself as something special," the Count said, pushing Elly to take the first steps. "I need to be seen here, but I don't dance often, therefore I might not be especially good at it. But that should not matter much with you, I suppose. Win-win."

"Win-win," Elly repeated, not feeling like it at all.

Awkward silence settled. Elly did poorly at focusing on the music not to lose the rhythm of it. The Count clenched his teeth when she stepped on his foot, but did not complain.

"You are doing well?" he asked eventually, eyes darting between bystanders and her. His voice was caught between earnest concern and controlled ice.

"Considering the circumstances," Elly said.

"Good."

"Have you heard ... anything from Burgate?"

"About you, you mean?" The Count snorted. "No. Nobody of importance to me cares about a little maid."

Elly startled in anger. The Count struggled at covering her misstep in dance. His arm closed around her waist tighter and heat prickled in Elly's body. She caught a nose of his scent and had to admit she rather liked it.

"Life is not all about what other people think of you, you know." He might have meant to defuse his words.

"Easy for you to say," Elly snapped.

"Not quite," he said. He displayed an expression of agony Elly had not expected him capable of. Darkness covered his eyes and tension settled in his jaw. "I depend greatly on people's believes. One way or another."

Elly's anger turned. She didn't quite know into what exactly, just for the first time in a while she worried not that much about herself anymore.

"The great Count of Malinijak has trouble with his reputation?" she meant as a tease, but remembering the questionable gossip she bit her tongue.

A bitter smile played at the Count's lips, his gaze drifted away.

"Forgive my impudence," Elly said eventually.

"Never apologize for the truth," the Count said. "But you'd do better at learning a way to say it in a less hurtful way. Especially now that you rose to the company of the rich and the vain."

"I do not belong here."

"Quite possibly so."

The music they'd been dancing to stopped. The Count bowed to Elly, like all the gentlemen did to the ladies they had accompanied, then he took her arm and led her back to her aunt while the dancers shifted.

The older woman clenched her hands in front of her chest out of joy, maybe out of drunkenness as well, otherwise she would have probably noticed that the Count and Elly did not share the air of romance around them as many other dance couples did.

"If you excuse me now," the Count said and bowed his head again. His attention was already ahead of him, far across the room. "I have business to attend to."

"Certainly. A pleasant evening to the Lord," Elly's aunt answered in her stead.

Elly curtsied like her aunt had taught her. The Count pushed away through the crowd. Her eyes followed his figure until he disappeared. A weight tugged at her heart when she finally lost sight of him. It was sadness and disappointment, like waking up from a nice dream ormissing the chance for adventure.

Elly's aunt gave a sigh of satisfaction, before she turned to the girl. "And? Does he like you?" she asked.

Elly struggled to answer. He might have not entirely hated her once, but that was not the kind of 'like' her aunt meant. It seemed rather improbably to be able to determine that kind of emotion from one simple dance either way.

Elly chose to speak the truth then. "That was the Count of Malinijak."

Elly had not told her aunt all about her fate and how it had come to be, but enough to let the woman pale.

***

- Jake -

Jake strolled down the street after Nathaniel. He picked at his tie with a grimace at the thought of what was about to come. But the Earl's son had finally invited him to dinner, it couldn't be helped. He would need proper attire and so he had no choice but to waste more of his scarce time and money on being tortured with options of silk and colours.

The fine market street was busting with people going about their daily business. Women in ridiculous dresses, men with tall hats, faces sparkling with the joy of indulging in the excess of opulence. Furniture, paintings and foods, there was nothing that was not to be had. The shops were squeezed next to each other along the road. Carriages rattled up and down the street in between the crowd, packed with the goods, others were being loaded.

Jake's face darkened with the thought of the contrast a few roads over. People were sleeping on the streets, fighting to survive another day. Selling all they had and more just for a lousy piece of bread to feed to their too thin children.

He would change that. He had to. Even if it cost him his life.

Nathaniel opened the door to the store with the jingling of a bell and held it open for Jake to step inside. Almost polite like a real servant.

"My Lord, you are early," the woman behind the counter welcomed them. They were. But Jake rather wanted it over sooner than later.

"Please, have a seat in the waiting room. I'll bring some refreshments and the tailor will be with you in a moment."

Jake nodded and turned to the room implied while Nathaniel went about discussing prices. Who better to make deals than a demon. As long as it did not get out of hand.

Noisy chatter sounded from the sitting room followed by laughter of at least two women and Jake reconsidered. He snuck down the short corridor instead and peaked into the work room. The door was a slit open and he found no one inside. With a sigh he closed the door behind him.

It was a rather large room, shelves filled with all sorts of fabric, a large table where some were cut, on the far wall dresses hung for display, to his right it was suits. Attached was a smaller, more private dressing room.

"Aunt Evelynn?" a voice came from it and Jake froze.

Damn it all.

"Aunt Evelynn?" the girl asked again. "Are you done yet? I really need a little help here. The hair –"

The girl startled to an abrupt halt upon finding Jake instead of her aunt. Her expression turned to near shock while she mustered him from head to toe.

He couldn't help but gawk either. A piece of unfinished dress hung from the girl's shoulders, faintest blue silk. The corsage in the front was slightly opened, revealing an inappropriately amount of skin. With one hand she grabbed at the hair, a lose strand of it stuck to a button on the shoulder, with the other she held the clothing in place. Pulling it further up in a move close to panic at realizing Jake's stare.

He managed to tear his eyes away, turned around and cleared his throat. "I apologize. I thought the room was empty," he pressed out.

"A-Are you following me around?" the girl said, voice high pitched from nerves.

"Oh, little maid, you truly are full of yourself, if you think I'd waste even a second on you," he had said, before he could have stopped himself, too used at scaring people off lately.

He had wasted plenty of seconds on her already though, hadn't he?

He heard her rustle behind his back, mumble a few curses beneath her breath he had never thought the girl capable off, then a long sigh.

"W-well, be that as it may," she said eventually, voice even more uncomfortable. "W-Would you give me a hand, since you are here already."

"A hand?"

"The hair got stuck."

Right.

Jake cleared his throat again before turning back to her. He supposed he hid the awkward feeling rising inside him poorly while he took the few steps and rose his arms to help her free herself from the situation.

"Why don't you just take it off?" he said. "The hair, I mean. Are you really that vain?"

She pursed her lips, but didn't answer, stare fixed at the door.

His fingers fumbling at untying knots from the button brushed skin and his eyes betrayed him. They wandered.

Up her shoulder, to her neck, her collarbone, further down where she held the handful of fabric in place, still leaving too little to imagination.

Something stirred inside Jake. Something dark and dangerous.

He grabbed on tight, one hand the dress, one the hair, and tore them apart with one snap. The girl flinched and gasped a single sound of surprise.

Jake fled and turned back to observing dresses displayed on the wall. Fabric rustled, footsteps rushed back inside the private dressing room.

"I changed my mind." He heard her voice sounding from within eventually. "About you. You are impatient. And you do have a temper."

Jake needed a second before following, before remembering a conversation they'd had what seemed ages ago.

Well, he had changed his mind too. She was by far no decent, polite little girl. She was too honest and impulsive for her own good. And her stares lingered in his head, having him wonder what they meant, whether he wanted to or not.

"So you have finally come to understand the people's gossip about me?" Jake said in an attempt to sever whatever fleeting connection they ever had once and for all.

"I wonder," she said, stepping back out of the dressing room, skin properly hidden below proper clothing. The blue silken fabric hung over her arm. "If you are truly trying to convince me you are a being from a fairy tale right now, I might have to change my mind again."

"What if I am?"

"Then you are delusional. There is no such thing as magic."

A bitter smile stole on Jake's lips. She observed it attentively and he observed her.

One could indeed hardly tell the hair on her head were not truly hers, and they were close enough to the original colour. A small scar had made its home on her left cheek, probably a wound from taking a hit to the face. Her green eyes sparkled with something Jake couldn't quite name, her lips were pressed together tightly with some tension she seemed unwilling to show.

"Well," Jake started saying, but the sentences seemed to fall out of order in the back of his head as soon as they formed. His eyes fell to her dress closing over her skin where before it hadn't.

"If you excuse me now. My aunt is waiting," she said, her voice crisp, and turned to the door.

He nodded agreement, even if she had not asked for one, and he did not really mean it.

Elizabeth, right? Elly. He had not meant to know. There was hardly any use for him in doing so. He had not meant to remember. There was even less use in that. But the truth was, he did. And he would probably not forget it for a while.

Before long the tailor entered the room with apologies of the delay that actually wasn't. Nathaniel followed with an evil smirk on his lips.

"Guess who I just met on their way out," he sang.

Jake bristled.

"Oh, come on. At this point you have to admit that there is something going on between you and that girl."

"If you bring her up one more time you better ask Rutger to teach you his sign language, because I'll cut your tongue out too."

"I mean, how many coincidences can there be?"

"Castermere might be big, but the places the nobler societies attend are very few. We are bound to cross paths every now and then. And there is nothing at all going on!" Jake snapped. He earned himself a silent stare from the tailor for the outburst.

Nathaniel laughed.

***