The Miraculous Sweetmakers #1: the Frost Fair by Natasha Hastings

Author:Natasha Hastings
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2022-08-16T00:00:00+00:00

17

The Frost Ball

Tap, tap, tap.

Thomasina had waited for Inigo’s knock for days. A thrill jolted through her when she finally heard it. Each day he hadn’t called had made her worry that, after Anne had almost caught him, he’d changed his mind about taking her to the Other Frost Fair twice more, and that her chances of reuniting with Arthur would ebb away.

Unbolting the door and swinging it open, she was struck by Inigo’s appearance. It wasn’t because of the decadent mask he wore that covered one half of his face with spun ice, nor his sparkling heeled boots, the shimmering blue feather in his hat, or even his silver cloak, glittering with tiny icicles. Instead, she was shocked to see he looked as if parts of him had withered away. When he smiled, the lines around his eyes were deeper than they’d ever been before, and he stood at an odd angle, knees bowed.

“Good evening,” he said in hoarse tones, indicating a bundle he was carrying. “I have a gift for you, Miss Burgess. I thought you must be rather tired of dressing up in such drab little outfits. Especially as I’m always dressed so impeccably.”

Before Thomasina had time to ask if he was unwell, he shook out the bundle and she gasped as it flashed to the ground. It was an ornate silver cloak, gossamer-thin and shimmering in the moonlight: the twin to his own.

“Thank you!” she exclaimed, examining it.

It was made from soft, beautiful material. Squinting at it closely, Thomasina could see that tiny icicles and miniature snowflakes permeated the surface, so it was as though she were enveloped in a blanket of winter.

“It’s the finest thing I’ve ever owned, apart from my necklace,” she told him, and Inigo beamed. His smile was lopsided, trembling at its corners.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, “because I want you to wear it tonight, at the Frost Ball.”

“What’s a ball? Are we going to kick a ball about in the street?” She didn’t see how such a magnificent cloak could be at all suitable for this.

It looked as if Inigo were having difficulty restraining himself from rolling his eyes.

“My dear, a ball is where people dance,” he said, and then huffed and, in a lower tone, scoffed under his breath, “Kick a ball about, indeed. . . .”

“Dance?” Thomasina said. “Like—like people do around a maypole?” This was the only dancing she’d ever done.

“Well, yes, a bit like that,” Inigo conceded, “but with nicer clothes.”

He held out his arm as usual, and she took it. Her heart was beating very quickly. She felt like she was suspended on a delicate tightrope. On the one hand, she had to make sure that she kept Inigo in a good mood: he held her future happiness in his hands. She didn’t want to risk him breaking off his side of the deal if she angered him by asking questions about his past.

On the other hand . . . the fact that a quarter of her body was now decorated in snowflakes was frightening her.

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