Tear You Apart (30 page)

INVITATIONS WERE SENT to Jewel, Luxe, Freddie, Layla, Mira, Blue, and even Jack Tran.

Jasper hired a fairy to create Viv’s dress—a living embodiment of spring, fragrant with blooming flowers and pink clouds of cherry blossom. And though he said they should wait for her friends at the club, Viv insisted on waiting at the checkpoint.

They went down early, at the same time that Jasper’s brothers went to meet the twelve princesses—an hour before the rest of the underworld doors opened.

Viv knew the brothers’ names now—she’d made it her business to learn everyone’s name—but their personalities were less distinct. It was that way with most multi-sibling curses. There might be one sibling who was better known, and who functioned like the front man of a band—but the rest got grouped together.

She watched as the first door opened—the one that joined the underworld with the Twelve Dancing Princesses’ bedroom.
A rectangle of light formed in the darkness, and then the first sister appeared in silhouette. One by one the princesses descended the staircase—gracefully, taking beauty pageant steps—and then they hurried to the shore to greet their princes. Lindy and Jet embraced. Calder grabbed Musette and spun her around, her satin slippers lifting off the ground, her laugh all sweetness and light. Calypso, the youngest sister, had brought a present for her prince: a book they proceeded to look through together. Sard and Charleston didn’t even say hello; they went straight to making out.

They all lit up like a holiday. There were no tears, no arguments. Even Minuet looked happy to be in the underworld, smiling in wonder at the sparkle of the trees. It was an enchanting place, all lit up by lanterns, with the forest whispering music and the promise of good things in the air. They all looked so sure that nothing could go wrong. Nothing could change the way they felt right now.

Viv watched them board the boats and begin the journey across, fragments of talk and laughter carrying over to where she waited with Jasper. Soon the rest of the doors would open and more Cursed would enter the underworld, bringing the mood up just as the princesses started on their downward spirals.

Viv bounced on her heels—eager, edgy. The first flowers on her dress were wilting, and others were sprouting to take their place. The faint halo of mist that had surrounded her skirt was burning away as the fresh green of her dress turned golden, like grass singed by the summer sun.

“You really won’t wait at the club?” Jasper said. “It’ll be another hour, at least.”

“I don’t care. I want to see them as soon as they get here.”

When the rest of the doors opened and the guests began streaming down, Viv stood on tiptoe to try to see past the crowd.

“Do you want a step stool?” Jasper asked.

“Very funny.”

After twenty minutes, Jasper said, “I don’t want to stand here all night.”

“It won’t be all night.”

Viv waited there for another hour, checking every face, desperate for a glimpse of someone familiar. If not one of her friends, then
someone
she recognized. A classmate, a member from Seven Oaks, someone she’d met at a party. But there was no one. All the guests seemed to be coming from somewhere other than Beau Rivage.

“Let’s go see if there’s something wrong with the door,” Viv said. “If they’re having trouble getting through.”

“The guards won’t let me take you up there.”

“The guards won’t
let you
? You’re the prince.”

“You know whose orders they follow.”

“I’m going up there,” Viv said.

She stepped around the checkpoint and as she moved past it, one of the guards grabbed her arm and yanked her back. “Testing my reflexes or my resolve?” he asked.

“Let
go
of me. I’m Jasper’s princess. I’m not some uninvited guest you can manhandle.”

“Princess, we don’t manhandle uninvited guests, we cut their heads off.”

“Jasper,” she said. “Tell them—”

“Bring her to the shore,” Jasper said. “We’ll go to the club. We’re done waiting here.”

The guard kept a tight grip on her arm and marched her to the lake. Jasper signaled to a boatman whose gondola was already occupied and the boatman ordered his passengers out. Jasper stepped into the gondola then, gracefully, so that it barely rocked, and held out his hand to Viv. The guard released her and she whipped around, searching the distance for Blue’s hair or Jewel’s falling gems.

“Come on, Viv.”

“Tell my friends—when you see them, tell them to go right to the front. I don’t want them waiting in line. All right? You saw them before. You’ll tell them.”

The guard gave a mock bow. “Sounds easy enough.”

“Make sure you tell them. If I find out they were waiting in line for an hour …”

“He’ll tell them, Viv. Stop worrying. Let’s enjoy ourselves until then.”

At the club she paced around with a drink in her hand. Her dress was doing all sorts of amazing things—going from summer to autumn to winter and then back to spring again—but she kept her eyes on the door. She only noticed her dress when a guest remarked on it, or Jasper told her how beautiful she looked in a gown of snowdrifts.

“Can we dance a little?” Jasper said. “Maybe they were busy tonight. Your friends are in a band together, aren’t they? Maybe they had to perform.”

“Some of them would have come. Mira. Layla. Jack Tran.”

“I don’t know what to say, Viv. Maybe they were tired. Maybe they’re not as good friends as you think they are.”

“You promised you’d invite them!”

“I did invite them!”

“If you don’t want them here, why don’t you just tell me? Why are you lying?”

Guests were beginning to gather around them, sipping cocktails, pushing closer so they could hear every word. Jasper took her by the arm the way the guard had—as if he were escorting her, but squeezing hard enough that she knew he was serious—and dragged her out of the club. He didn’t even let her stop on the hillside to squint across the lake. He just hauled her toward the palace.

“If you want to fight with me,” he said under his breath, “don’t do it in public.”

“Don’t lie to me and I won’t have to!”

“I didn’t lie to you. I can’t help it if your friends chose to come late, or to do something else tonight. If you don’t believe I sent the invitations, I’ll send them again. Now. In front of you.”

Viv waited in the palace’s front hall while Jasper summoned a horseman, put a stack of invitations and a list of addresses into his hand, and paid him off with a fistful of gold branches. Then they returned to the club. Viv circled the room, looking for her friends. Crocuses sprouted on her dress and cherry blossoms fell from her skirt. Green grass and cattails smothered the flowers until they, too, were buried under a tapestry of red and gold leaves. Eventually a soft layer of snow blanketed her dress and melted on her shoes as she paced.

Season flowed into season, and Jasper sighed, and the night passed. Viv stayed until the club had emptied out completely. Even the Twelve Dancing Princesses were gone.
Debris littered the floor; the servants were sweeping up when she left. Her friends never came. Not even Jack Tran, who she’d thought would show just to steal some silver branches.

“I’ll send more invitations tomorrow, all right?” Jasper said. “I’m exhausted. What a waste of a night.”

“I want to know what happened.”

“So do I. But I don’t think we’re going to. Not until they show up and tell you.”

Jasper sent new invitations every afternoon. And every evening, before the doors to the surface opened, Viv went and sat on a rocky hill overlooking the lake. She stayed there for hours, eyeing each new group of guests, searching for a face she recognized, and never seeing one.

Her friends had been worried about her; she knew they would come if they could. So why hadn’t they?

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

THE THEME TONIGHT WAS TREASURE, and the dance floor glittered like a dragon’s hoard. Dresses dribbled down bodies like liquid metal. Royals came wearing their heirloom jewelry: pearls that had been cried by their ancestors, gold chains that had been spun from straw. Bright silks blazed against the black backdrop: ruby and sapphire, bronze and silver, emerald and amethyst.

Viv’s only piece of jewelry was her engagement ring. Her treasure was the notebook she carried in her black clutch purse: her storehouse of names. Jasper had stopped accompanying her to the club because she refused to dance, and she spent the nights having conversations like:

I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Viv. Right—the Snow White princess. And you are? Great name. I’ll remember that one
.

After an hour of introductions Viv went to the VIP ladies’ room—which was usually empty because it was reserved for her and the twelve princesses—and sat down on the fainting
couch and added the names to her notebook. She did that every hour. It gave her something to think about besides how alone she was.

On her third trip to the ladies’ room, she went to the mirror and studied her reflection—that dark-eyed, cold girl who’d grown darker and colder in the underworld. She was still watching herself when she heard a male voice say her name.

She jumped, startled. The mirror spanned the length of the wall, and yet she didn’t see any reflection but her own. The stalls were open, empty. She glanced up, looking for a speaker or an intercom or something.

“Jasper?” she said.

And then … she looked at her reflection again. And stumbled backward, away from it.

It had been weeks since a mirror had talked to her. She’d left the magic mirror up
there
, on the surface. And though the magic mirror could pull other mirrors into its network, she hadn’t thought it could reach her in the underworld. The thought of being watched by that thing for the rest of her life …

“Do I sound like that piece of shit?”

“Wh-what?” The voice was right next to her, and now she was panicking, because—she shouldn’t be hearing his voice. Her hands were trembling and her clutch clattered to the floor. “I’m finally going crazy.…”

She felt strong arms wrap around her, a broad chest pressed to hers, a safety she hadn’t felt in so long. And then that mouth—his mouth—lips she would know anywhere. She closed her eyes so her mind wouldn’t feel so breakable, and gave in to the sensation she’d longed to feel.

With her eyes closed, lost in darkness, he was here beneath her hands. She found his face, his shoulders; threaded her fingers into his hair and pulled so he’d kiss her harder, until she found herself on the fainting couch, with the taste of Henley in her mouth.

“Are you a ghost?” she whispered. “Or am I losing it?”

“Are there cameras in here?”

“What?”

“Security cameras. Are there—?”

“Oh my god.” Delusions didn’t ask practical questions. Neither did ghosts. She started crying before he pulled off the invisibility cloak—a gray cape that appeared just as he came into view. Henley. He was here.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

SHE PULLED AWAY SO SHE COULD LOOK at him. Held his face in her hands and just absorbed him for a moment. He was someone different now that she’d almost lost him: miraculous. She wanted to say a million things. She wanted to kiss him again; she wanted to work herself back into that space where no words were necessary. It just felt … so
powerful
, being with him again, when she’d thought he was gone forever. She could sense it was that way for him, too. He looked at her with the same awe and longing she felt coursing through her own body.

He was wearing a tuxedo. He almost never dressed like that.

“How did you—? What happened?” she asked. “I thought you were—”

“I was afraid you’d push me away. That you’d replaced me already.”

“No, never.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.” His hands were gentle on her face. He watched her like every flick of her eyes, every breath, every quiver of her throat, was something he wanted to remember.

“It should sound like me,” she said, watching him just as carefully. “That’s who I am. That’s how I feel.”

He smiled, almost surprised, and it was such a soft look on him. So different from the pain and frustration she usually provoked. His surprise nearly broke her heart. The month they’d been apart felt like a year. Now, she felt as distant from the Viv who’d stopped trusting him as she’d once felt from the Viv who’d trusted him implicitly.