Chapter 42

  Lord Siber?

  Silence, like knives, lacerated Elijah. Each second sliced him up. His confidence bled out as the silence persisted, and he was left pale and shaking, waiting for a reaction, any reaction, from the interminably quiet crowd.

  Nothing lasts forever. It started with a susurration; two children whispering to each other broke the spell, and soon the ballroom exploded with clapping and cheers.

  The teen let out a breath; the air returned to his lungs as he was finally able to relax. The cries of “bravo”, “jolly good”, and calls for an encore breathed life back into the oddly frightened teen; anxiety can do strange things, even to the strongest people.

  The Marquess came to his side, cheering his performance and clapping the teen on his puffy shoulder with the stubby, clawed hand of a kangaroo. Lady Wichtig wasn’t far behind. She looked not happy, but not unhappy either.

  Her head was lowered, and she didn’t meet Elijah’s eye as she congratulated him on his performance. Apparently, although what he played wasn’t in the current, more simple style, it was very much appreciated.

  There was a culture amongst the kangarookin which celebrated dedication and practice, and since the young man’s performance demonstrated both, it was well liked. He received thanks and gifts from a number of the gentry, mainly just flowers and tokens of appreciation – nothing particularly valuable or useful.

  It was over in a rush, and before long, he was no longer the centre of attention. The true musicians took their place, and the dancing began.

  The teen’s movements were stiff, mirrored by his partner’s. Sehr Wichtig was awkward to dance against. She wouldn’t meet the young man’s eye, which led to a number of feet fumbled and toes stepped on.

  “What’s wrong?” Elijah asked, after a blood blister had formed on a third toe. “You’ve been up and down all evening; is everything alright?”

  “Of course it is,” she snapped, striving to stay in time with the Viennese waltz they were stumbling through. Luckily, the ballroom was full, and their display wasn’t noticed amongst the other nobleroos.

  “If you say so,” the teen murmured, shimmying backwards from another toe-crushing step.

  After the reception his impromptu performance had received and a couple more glasses of wine, the chandeliers and gold embellishments had begun to sparkle; everything was great. Everything except the woman opposite him.

  When they had first met, she had to be bribed. He understood. She was a noble, and he looked like a peasant that had somehow stumbled onto the grounds.

  Then, when he had shown himself to be of some means, even if his wine and clothes were stolen, she had started to treat him less like shit stuck to her far too sharp, clown-shaped heels and more like an actual person.

  “You know, a wise man once told me,” Elijah began, intending to make up some bullshit that would get her to spill her guts.

  “Fine, I’m sorry, alright?” she huffed, forcefully dancing towards the teen and making him step back carefully to avoid a collision.

  “Sorry? What for?” asked Elijah. He knew people like her; at least he thought he did – spoilt and bratty. She wouldn’t apologise even if her life depended upon it, and here she was, spitting out the words unprovoked.

  “I’m sorry,” she went on, the words spat out like bitter wine, “When I first met you, I confess, I thought you were disgusting,” said Lady Wichig, whipping the teen along as she danced faster and more fiercely, her eyes wet with tears of frustration.

  “Disgusting? That seems a bit harsh—” Elijah tried to say but was cut off.

  “I mean, ew, humans are horrible to begin with, but you were extra yucky,” Lady Wichtig went on, oblivious of the young man’s protestations.

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  She opened up, explaining that she had been left waiting for more than an hour by this Lord Siber. They were both the children of dukes, though of different kingdoms, and this was supposed to be their debut together, where they would announce their family’s intention for them to be married.

  More was said, something about the amulet he had given her being worth a lot and lashing out because she still hadn’t seen Lord Siber yet and was beginning to wonder if he was a jerk or if he had been hurt.

  Elijah just tuned it out at some point. He struggled to focus on her angry dancing. He didn’t want to fail the Trial by bumping into any of the other couples.

  “So that’s why eight inches is my limit,” she said, ending her angry tirade.

  The teen’s ears tingled. What was she talking about?

  “What was that?” Elijah asked.

  “The maximum amount of lace on the hem of my dress,” she repeated. “Were you even listening?” Lady Wichtig said, venomously. “I swear, men, they're all the same. Selfish!”

  Elijah shook away the remains of his unintentional dirty thoughts before responding. He had no idea how her angry venting had managed to get onto the topic of dress hems.

  “Look, if you’re worried about—” but before he could find some way to console the roo, he was cut off by an announcement.

  Most of the guests had arrived before the dancing began, but some came late. They were named by the footman, but the music didn’t stop, and they were swept into the loosely choreographed dancing.

  “May I announce: the Lord Siber and the Lady Schwanz,” the footman declared, somehow still bursting Elijah’s ear drums, even though they were on the other side of the room.

  Although the music and dancing didn’t stop, there was a wave of whispers that swept through the room. The teen looked to his partner, expecting a response, anger, sadness, anything. Instead, her kangaroo features were frozen in ice.

  Her eyes were locked on the flamboyant lord, clothed in a sparkling silver suit, and the lady at his arm dressed in a tall, pink dress, with a purple bonnet covering all but her ears.

  As Lady Wichtig seethed, Elijah noticed something. Despite the fact she was staring daggers at the late arrivals as they swept their way onto the dance floor, her footwork had improved markedly. The teen found himself carried along by her suddenly graceful dancing – which led him to believe she had just been stamping on his toes all night for no reason.

  “Hey, if you can dance like this, then why—” Elijah began but was cut off yet again.

  “Come on, let’s see this prick!” she exclaimed in a most unladylike fashion.

  Lady Wichtig was steering them directly over to the new couple. The sea of dancers seemed to part as she came near, sensing her hostility and wanting nothing to do with it.

  The tune changed. A fierce tango began. Elijah was dragged along, forced to move with wide and definite steps as he charged across the dance floor.

  In seconds the two couples were dancing adjacent to one another. Lady Wichtig’s style was angry and firm, whereas Lord Siber seemed relaxed and nonchalant. He glode through the steps with his oddly dressed partner as if nothing were wrong.

  For a time, Elijah wondered if the manroo was blind. Could he not see the glare Lady Wichtig was attempting to roast him with?

  It wasn’t until, with a double spin, Lord Siber and Lady Wichtig came face to face for but a moment that he learnt the truth.

  “You Bastard! How could you leave me waiting for over an hour and show up with this trollop?” The lady spat, though only loud enough for the two couples to hear. Some level of decorum had to be maintained.

  They were swept away before he could answer, but when they twirled back into proximity, he replied. Elijah already knew it wouldn’t be good; although Lady Wichtig was red with rage, Lord Siber sported a slight smile.

  “Oh, honey,” Siber said, in a voice just as flamboyant as his silver, sparkly tuxedo. He looked her up and down as if inspecting a suit he found wanting. “A yellow dress with pink flowers? No, I wouldn’t be seen dead out here with you,” he said, his words dripping with sass.

  Elijah understood. He was just stupid. The teen half expected Lady Wichtig to fly off the handle right then and there and murder him with how hate-filled her expression became; he could hear squeaking as her teeth ground together.

  There were several more energetic passes as the two couples danced at each other like battleships lining up for a shot, but no more words were spoken. Elijah and the shy-seeming Lady Schwanz shared consoling looks, neither of them happy with what they had been dragged into.

  When another couple danced in between them, and Lady Wichtig’s attention was finally broken, Elijah spoke up.

  “I’m surprised at your restraint. I thought for sure you would have killed him,” said the teen, trying to lighten the mood. It didn’t work.

  “Oh, he’ll get what’s coming to him, just as soon as court begins,” she said darkly.

  Suddenly, there was the sound of wood – a gavel striking its plate – and the room shifted in seconds. Benches were dragged in, wigs were put on, and before Elijah could blink, the ballroom had changed into a space resembling the House of Commons.

  He was shoved back into his seat by an unseen force as Marquess Von Fotze took the place of the speaker and bellowed:

  “Order, order!”

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