He follows my gaze to where Lord Downpike is smiling at us, Eleanor at his side.
“Spirits take him,” Finn curses. “He won’t harm her—even he wouldn’t dare go so openly against Lord Rupert. He’s trying to make a point.”
“And what point is that?”
“That he still has options when it comes to hurting us.” He sees the look of fear and dread on my face, then pats my hand. “Never mind. I have it under control. Wait here.”
He leaves me standing in the middle of the floor, surrounded by glittering strangers. I have never felt so helpless and alone.
I loathe feeling helpless.
I watch Finn stride toward Lord Downpike and Eleanor, Lord Downpike’s smile growing bigger and bigger, too big to fit his face, so sharp I wonder that it does not cut his cheeks.
“Are you quite well, Miss Olea?”
I turn to see Lord Rupert’s wife looking at me with concern. She’s on Ernest’s arm, who is watching Lord Downpike and Finn with narrowed eyes.
“I am . . . I am fine, yes, thank you.”
She follows our eyes and notes Finn and Lord Downpike having what appears to be a pleasant conversation, but one punctuated by a strange number of hand gestures. Lord Downpike flicks his fingers, Finn taps his cane, Lord Downpike makes a swirling motion as though illustrating a point, Finn slashes his cane through the air.
“Ah, men,” Lord Rupert’s wife sighs. “From the nursery to the Noble House, they never can stop fighting.” She pats my shoulder with stiffly detached sympathy. “They’ll sort it out. We needn’t worry ourselves over these sorts of things.” She yawns behind a gloved hand, covered in rings. “Hmm. Gallen pastries. Excuse me.”
She walks past with a whiff of stingingly floral perfume, and I watch her go, aghast. Could she not see the fear in Eleanor’s eyes? Does she care so little for the welfare of her own niece? Worst of all, is she really so accustomed to being pushed to the sidelines she no longer sees any evil in it?
“Aren’t you going to go help?” I ask Ernest. I turn to him and am surprised to see him watching me with a look of accusation. “What?”
“I advised you to leave Eleanor alone.”
“She’s my friend.”
“You attract trouble. I think you court it. And now you’ve brought her into it all.”
I can feel heat rising in my cheeks as my heart beats even faster, with fear or anger or some unhealthy mix of the two. “I did no such thing. Lord Downpike did this. And you stand here doing nothing while your sister is being threatened.”
“What would you have me do? Set myself against one of the most powerful men in our country?”
“If it is the right thing to do, then yes!”
“It may be the right thing to do. I would make a glorious stand, denounce him as a cruel and barbarous villain. We could bask in my righteousness. And any hopes I have at attaining a seat in the Noble House would be forever dashed. I would lose my future.”
“This isn’t about you!”
“Exactly! It isn’t about me. And so I will stand by and watch my sister in pain because of your friendship. And I will choose to do nothing, knowing that if I play the game right then someday in the near future I will be in a position of actual power, where I can effect real change. Because this isn’t about me, Jessamin. It’s about my country, and all the people I can help if I don’t throw everything away now. I asked you to put my sister’s welfare first because I cannot. I have to work toward being able to help all of Albion. Otherwise, the only voices that matter are the warmongers like Downpike.”
His words strike painfully. I thought he didn’t want me around Eleanor because I am Melenese, not because he was worried for her safety. “None of this is my fault. I’m not even part of this wretched country! I didn’t choose any of this!”
Ernest looks pointedly at my dress. “Didn’t you?” With a small bow he turns and walks stiffly away.
Trembling with the force of conflicting emotions, I nearly spill my drink. Setting it on the tray of a passing server, I am both relieved and more anxious than ever when Finn rejoins me, Eleanor leaning heavily on his arm. Lord Downpike is nowhere to be seen.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
Her eyelids droop and her face is pale, pinched in pain. “I do not have your strength for resisting spells thrown at me. I’m so sorry, Jessamin, he snatched me as soon as the music was over and . . . I can’t remember anything else. I’m so very sorry.” Tears pool in her eyes,
and I rush forward to take her hands in mine.
“Never mind any of that. All I care about is that you’re safe.” No thanks to me. Ernest’s words fling themselves around my head, making me question everything I’ve done that has brought me here. I didn’t choose this, but I stubbornly refused to walk away when I became part of a game I didn’t understand.