My seventeenth birthday party was held in the conservatory, that giant glass room filled with plants. The ferns had been decorated with tiny purple ribbons and white lights. A group of faeries were set up in the corner, playing some kind of elaborate clockwork instruments, but the music that came out of them was thin and wavering, and weirdly melancholy for a birthday party. Not that you could hear it that well, anyway. A storm had sprung up earlier in the evening, and raindrops were splattering loudly on the glass roof. I had staked out a spot on a window seat, and from there I watched the rain trickle down the glass like tears.
I thought about my last birthday party and decided that despite the ice sculptures, and the champagne fountain, and the giant cake shaped like Thorne Abbey, I preferred Skee-Ball and a guy in giant rat suit.
Of course, that could have had something to do with the fact that my dress weighed roughly fifty pounds, my crown was giving me a headache, and my best friend was currently not speaking to me.
I scanned the room, but I didn’t see Jenna. She’d kept her distance ever since that day in the dress shop. Maybe it was easier this way. If Jenna was bound and determined to get her vamp on, it might hurt less if we weren’t friends anymore. Still, telling myself that did nothing to lessen the ache in my chest.
There were maybe a hundred Prodigium in the room, all of them in fancy, glittering costumes, and they were all smiling at me, and coming up to wish me a happy birthday. They’d all brought gifts, too: a marble-top table near the door was rapidly piling up with brightly wrapped packages. Still, there was this heavy feeling in the air, like everyone was trying too hard to have a good time. Laughs were too loud, and smiles looked forced. Maybe they were afraid Dad and I would vaporize them if they didn’t act like this was the best party ever.
I would have laid my forehead against the cool glass wall, but I didn’t really want to see my reflection that closely. Lysander had brought the dress earlier that afternoon, and insisted on doing my makeup, too. Consequently, it looked like a glitter bomb had exploded on my face. Even my bare shoulders were dusted with sparkling blue powder.
There were dozens of waiters moving through the room, bearing trays of glasses that were filled with a glowing purple concoction. I wasn’t sure if the waiters were Thorne’s regular servants, or if they’d been specially hired for this party. They were dressed in simple white shirts and black pants, the upper halves of their faces covered with silver masks. One had already come up to me three separate times, and each time I took a drink, only to pour it in the nearest potted plant as soon as the waiter walked away.
“Why so glum, birthday girl?”
I turned to see Nick and Daisy, each holding an empty crystal-and-silver goblet. There was a purple stain on the lapel of Nick’s doublet. From their pink cheeks and bright eyes, I guessed those weren’t the first drinks they’d had tonight. “It’s my party, and I’ll sulk if I want to,” I replied, heaving myself off the window seat.
“This party does kind of suck,” Daisy said, reaching up to straighten the silver laurel wreath on her dark hair.
“You could always open a present, see if that makes you feel better,” Nick said, nodding toward the gift table. A couple of the boxes were moving. One spun in slow circles above the rest, while another skittered about like a spider, the trailing ends of white satin ribbon acting as legs.
I gulped. “Um…you know what, I’m good. Have either of you seen Jenna?”
A look passed between them, but before they could say anything, that same waiter headed our way again. Ugh. What was that guy’s deal? Had someone paid him to get the head of the Council’s daughter drunk or something?
Looping my arms through Nick’s and Daisy’s, I pulled them away from the window and out of the waiter’s path. “What are you two fighting about, anyway?” Daisy asked.
I was about to tell her the whole story about Lysander’s shop when a blond witch in a bright red dress stopped us. “Hello,” she said, her voice breathless. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but I wanted to wish you happy birthday, Sophia.”
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”
I thought she’d move on, but she just kept standing there, smiling at me. Well, at all three of us, actually. “It’s just such an honor to meet you,” she enthused. “All of you. I hear…” she glanced around, and when she turned back to us, her cheeks were flushed. “I hear demons can make something appear out of nothing. Is that true?”
I blinked at her. What the heck? “Yeah,” I replied. “But so can witches. It’s just a matter of—”
Before I could finish, Nick bowed, and with a flourish of his hand, produced a huge bouquet of white roses. “It is indeed true,” he said, handing the flowers to the witch. “Of course, that’s only a little of what demons are capable of.”
The witch nearly squealed. “That’s amazing!”
There was a dangerous glint in Nick’s eyes. “Oh, that’s nothing.” He leaned forward and whispered, “If I wanted to, I could bring this whole ballroom down before you had time to blink those pretty brown eyes. Or pull the fabric of time so that—”
“Okay, that’s all really awesome, Nick,” I said, tugging both him and Daisy away from the witch. “But I think I see my dad, so we should go. Bye! Thanks for coming!”
Once we were out of earshot, I turned to Nick. “What was that all about?”
He took another swig of his drink. “That was me giving them what they want. They want us to be these scary, powerful things that can kill The Eye for them. That’s why they made us, right?”
I briefly pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, which only had the effect of smudging the glittery gunk on my lashes.
Daisy patted Nick’s arm, her laurel crown listing heavily to the right. “Sweetie, can we ease off on the killing talk? It’s a birthday party.” She punctuated that sentence with a little hiccup, and suddenly I was very tired of both of them. I wanted to talk to Jenna. Or Cal. Someone normal—well, as normal as my friends got—and preferably sober.
“Maybe I will go get a present after all,” I told them. I had taken maybe four steps when that waiter made another beeline for me. “Drink, miss?” he asked, holding out the tray.
“Look, dude,” I said, stumbling a little as I stepped on one of my draping sleeves, “I don’t know if you’re trying to suck up or what, but—”
I glanced up into his masked face, and our eyes met.
“You have got to be kidding me.”