Read ARC: The Seers Online

Authors: Julianna Scott

Tags: #isbn:9781908844477

ARC: The Seers (6 page)

 

CHAPTER 6

 

When we arrived at the upstairs gallery where the gala was being held, we stood in the receiving line outside the door, and waited to… be received, I guess. I could see Alva up at the front of the line, smiling and greeting each person or small group as they approached, every bit the charming, elegant hostess.

I stood in line quietly, feigning a fascination with the artwork and the architecture while once again trying to pretend that everyone wasn’t staring at us or gesturing our way. At least this time I felt up to par in the wardrobe department, but unfortunately my attire didn’t do much to help the uncomfortable itch their eyes sent crawling up and down my back.

“I am never going to get used to this,” I whispered as the line took a few small steps forward.

“To what?” Jocelyn asked under his breath.

“The staring, the whispering, and pointing… take your pick.” We took another step forward. “How does this not drive you crazy?”

He glanced down, his eyebrow raised. “Who said it doesn’t?”

I paused a moment, surprised. “It does?”

“Of course.”

“Then how are you always able to look so comfortable?”

“Practice.”

I sighed. “So there’s no trick?”

“Afraid not.” We took another step forward. “But don’t worry, they will lose interest after a while.”

“We can hope,” I added.

“Yes,” he grinned, “in the meantime, try to ignore it. And if it helps, you can always think about how bad it could be.” When I looked up confused, his grin grew wry. “If they knew,” he mouthed silently.

Dear God, he was right…

If they somehow found out the truth about me and my abilities, I’d have had to lock myself in the bathroom for the rest of the trip.

Jocelyn must have seen the color drain from my face, because he chuckled quietly. “Don’t worry, we’ll on our way back home soon. With any luck, we will get the whereabouts of our friend Mr Shea tonight, so until then,” he whispered, as we took the last step to the front of the line, “smile.”

“Jocelyn,” Alva beamed as she stepped forward extending her hand, “welcome!”

“Alva, you look radiant as ever,” he replied, taking her hand and demurely kissing her knuckles.

Wow, he really was good at this…

“Heavens above,” she exclaimed, turning to me and fanning herself dramatically. “What a vision you are, my dear! Why, your card will be filled the moment you set foot through the door!”

“Thank you,” I said, my polite smile back in place. Though I wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that last bit.

“And of course, Cormac… and Mr Bray, lovely to see you as well. Please, allow me to show you all in.”

“There is no need for that, Alva,” Jocelyn said, glancing at the line. “We could not take our hostess from her other guests. We can see ourselves in.”

“Well, if you insist,” she said, obviously a bit deflated. “But I will make sure to send Brassal over to greet you this evening, he has been so looking forward to seeing you again. And I shall have to introduce Bastian to your lovely daughter this evening, as well.”

“Yes, of course,” Jocelyn nodded in agreement, though he didn’t share her enthusiasm.

We followed the people before us down the hallway toward the gallery, and as soon as I heard Alva begin to greet the next group and was sure we wouldn’t be overheard, I turned to Jocelyn, “Who is Bastian?”

“Her son.”

Her son? Wait... was she trying to...

But before I could form the question, Jocelyn answered my expression. “Yes, she is trying to set you two up.”

“You knew that and you still said yes?” I asked, appalled.

“Well I could hardly say no.”

“I guess,” I grumbled.

“Besides, I had expected this would happen,” he admitted as we made our way into the gallery. “The Bhunaidh family structure is much like that of the earlier days, when marriage was a contract between families, and little more. Their first concern is making the best match and strengthening their lines. I am
bregbunhass
and you are my daughter, which in the eyes of the Bhunaidh makes you,” he paused, trying to hide the smile in his voice, “quite a catch.”

“So, what then? Every mother with an eligible son is going to be sizing me up like a horse at the track?” I asked, trying to remember to keep my voice down.

“It is a possibility, yes,” he admitted, actually having the nerve to smirk.

“This is not funny!”

“No, it’s not,” he agreed, though the corners of his mouth were still a little higher than they should have been.

“What’s a card?” I asked, hoping to change the subject and take my mind of my new broodmare status.

“What?”

“A card. She said ‘my card would be full.’”

“Oh, dance card. It means everyone will want to dance with you.”

“Right, right,” I nodded, realizing I should have known that.

“Which reminds me,” he said, his tone more serious, “should you be asked to dance, you can politely decline, or if you’d rather, I can do it for you.”

“Why would I decline? I like to dance.”
And I was damn good at it, if I did say so myself…

“This isn’t going to be the kind of dancing you are used to,” he said simply.

I could have protested, but I decided to let it go, content to prove his assumptions wrong later. Little did he know that I happened to be quite a proficient dancer, and was familiar with most of the traditional ballroom dance styles thanks to my Uncle Joe. He’d taken me with him to his dance studio for lessons all throughout middle and early high school, and I’d actually become pretty good. Besides, even if I had wanted to say something, the moment we came to the end of the hallway and stepped into the gallery, I was struck completely speechless.

It was a sight I wouldn’t have thought was possible outside of a fairytale. The room was almost three times as long as it was wide, with a cathedral ceiling made of deep brown molded wood, a stained glass window that covered the entire far wall, and three enormous crystal chandeliers hanging down from the rafters. Beneath them was a glittering bustle of chiffon, gemstones, and silk, as breathtaking as the room itself. The women were floating across the room in exquisite gowns and dazzling jewelry that probably cost more than the average car, while the men were displaying all manner of medals, decorations, and sashes on what no doubt were the finest tailor made tuxedos. All we needed was a pumpkin carriage with a midnight curfew, and it would have been a storybook come to life.

The four of us walked round the perimeter of the room until we found a grouping of armchairs and settees that were unoccupied and claimed them. Cormac, Alex and I sat, while Jocelyn remained standing, surveying the various clusters of people all chatting and laughing amongst themselves.

“I see Oden Shawn across the way,” he said, nodding toward a group of men talking next to one of the huge fireplaces on the opposite wall. “I should go and say hello.”

“You go ahead,” Cormac said, “I saw Oden this afternoon when we arrived.”

As Jocelyn walked over to the group of men, I leaned my elbow on the armrest of the chair with a sigh. I wanted to look over at Alex and see what he thought of all this, but with our encounter in the alcove still fresh in my mind, I quickly decided that was a bad idea. If I looked over I would blush, and if I blushed he would blush, and if we both started blushing… Yeah, bad idea. So instead, I turned my attention to the center of the room and casually watched the ocean of glittering haute-couture and humming conversation ebb and flow around us.

The spectacle of elegant mingling was much like it had been earlier that day in the lobby, with one notable difference: the addition of young people. Alva had mentioned there being other Holders that were closer to my age, but thus far all I had seen was the evil-eyed girl from the lobby that afternoon, the one Alva had called Shannon. But it looked like all the teenagers had come to the gala, each one looking like a perfectly primed and proper miniature of the adult they silently shadowed. At an event like this back at home, I would have expected to find all the younger people together, sitting in their own area, or maybe off talking in a corner, but not here. Here, they blended in seamlessly with the adults, conversing, circulating, and air-kissing like seasoned pros.

I scanned the crowd to see if I saw Shannon anywhere nearby, hoping she wasn’t while simultaneously trying to act like I didn’t care. It took a moment for me to find her, but when I did somehow I wasn’t surprised that she was one of the most stunning women in the room. She was wearing a cobalt blue gown, and her auburn hair was done up like a modern Marie Antoinette. She was standing with her mother, also in cobalt, and an older man and younger boy – father and brother? – both of whom were wearing cobalt sashes.

I looked their way just long enough to get a good look, then moved my gaze on to other groups as I was not about to let Shannon catch me staring… again. No way was I going to let her think that I was in any way impressed by her or her frou-frou hair.

Seriously though, how the hell did she get it to stay up that high…?

Reminding myself that I didn’t care, I turned my attention to the other side of the room, which is when I noticed the young man standing by himself against the wall in the very back of the hall. At first he looked strange compared to all the other men in their sashes, medals and other finery. Even the other young men in the room had at least a pin or two and of course a sash displaying their family color. The young man, however, didn’t have any medals, ribbons, or sash anywhere. Just a plain black tux and black shirt that perfectly matched the shadows he seemed to be clinging to. It wasn’t until I saw his face that I understood the lack of decoration; it was Steven.

“Oh,” I said, perking up immediately. Maybe I’d have someone to talk to after all. Of course I knew he was working, but maybe we could hang out for short bits here and there between whatever responsibilities he had.

“Something wrong?” Cormac asked as I stood up.

“No, I’m fine,” I assured him, “I just saw someone and I’m going to go say hello.”

“I must say, I wasn’t expecting you to make friends so quickly,” he chuckled, pleased.

I smiled as I passed by him and made my way around the room to where Steven was standing, quietly watching the activity of the room with his hands folded behind his back. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind my coming over, but at the very least I wanted to say hi and make sure he knew that everything was OK. He’d kind of freaked out earlier when I’d told him I was Jocelyn’s daughter, and I felt bad for springing it on him like that without explaining. With the way the staff was treated by the rest of the Bhunaidh, I could understand his reaction, but I wouldn’t have him thinking that he’d done anything wrong.

I was also vaguely aware of the fact that openly socializing with a member of the staff wouldn’t be well received by the other guests, but my only reaction there was to say “the hell with it.” Steven seemed like a nice guy and that was all I cared about. If they had a problem with me talking to him, they stuff it.

“Hello, again,” I said, as I arrived at his post. I didn’t know what manner of response I had expected, but it definitely wasn’t what I got.

“Wh-what are you d-doing?” he asked, stark fear in his eyes.

“I saw you over here and just wanted to say hi…” I trailed off, unsure what to say.

“Y-you sh-shouldn’t be ta-alking to me.”

“Look,” I said, raising my hand slightly, “it’s OK. I’m…” I trailed off again, trying to choose my words carefully. What I would have liked to say was, “
I’m not a pompous jerk like the rest of these people,”
but given that many of the “pompous jerks” were within earshot, that didn’t seem the best way to go. Treading lightly, I tried again. “I just wanted to come say hi, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

He looked at me for a long moment before his eyes softened slightly over the fear. “L-listen, I d-don’t think y-you r-realize th–”

“Becca,” a female voice cut in, “what are you doing all the way over here?”

I turned to see Alva coming up from behind me, her chipper smile just a little too big. From the corner of my eye I saw Steven immediately bow his head.

“I just came over to say hello,” I explained, already seeing where this was heading, and wanting to pop her right in the nose for it.

“Isn’t that sweet of you?” she said, though admiration was the last thing I heard in her voice. Without another look at Steven, she wrapped her arm around me and began leading me away. “Why don’t we get you a drink? The dances will start soon, and after that, I would be happy to introduce you to all the other Holders your age. I know they all can’t wait to meet you.”

She continued to talk as she led me across the room back to where Cormac and Alex were seated, while I did my best to keep my cool. I couldn’t decide whether I was more furious or disgusted, but one thing I did know was that my temper and I weren’t going to be able to take much more of this.

She dropped me off with my party with a twittering farewell like nothing at all important had happened, and the moment she was gone, Cormac and Alex both turned to me with questions written all over their faces.

“Everything all right, dear?” Cormac asked quietly, leaning in.

“These people are horrible,” I bit out under my breath.

“What happened?” Alex probed gently.

“I went over to say hi to one of the staff I met earlier, but apparently, he’s not good enough for me to talk to.”

“She didn’t want you talking to the staff?” Alex asked. “That seems strange.”

But Cormac’s expression didn’t look as though he thought it was strange at all. “Hmm,” he mused, squinting thoughtfully, “not exactly surprising. Though I do find it odd that she would make such a fuss…”

“It’s not even like we were making a scene or anything!” I continued to rage quietly. “We were standing in the corner talking. Or at least trying to talk, which wasn’t easy given how terrified these people have made the poor kid!”

“What do you mean?” Cormac asked.

“He is in a constant state of fear, as though he is just waiting for someone to pounce on him and rip his head off! Most of the time he looks like he is too scared to even breathe, much less speak – which he has enough difficulty with on his own without a bunch of pompous, well-to-dos intimidating the life out of him.”

Something flashed in Cormac’s eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

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