Half a Soul (Regency Faerie Tales, #1)

by Olivia Atwater

It was a shame, she thought, that so many beautiful things were also so ugly on the inside.

Dora was certain that she had reacted incorrectly this time, but she didn’t care. She had little effort to spare for making unpleasant men more comfortable.

Elias glanced over towards her with a grim scowl. “Miraculous!” he declared. “The lady has appeared from thin air.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Were you in fact hiding beneath the furniture, Miss Ettings?” Dora smiled serenely at him. “Beneath the sofa,”

“Pleasant-mannered people are simply the worst sort of people. Decent people become properly angry when presented with miserable injustice, but pleasant-mannered people never do.”

“I think that Elias has been angry now for so long that he is scared to let it go – I think he is scared that it would make him too complacent, and he might become all of those things which he so despises in others.”

“But sometimes, when you cannot force the world to come to its senses, you must settle only for wiping away some of the small evils in front of you.”

But as Dora inspected herself, she found that he had claimed a warm spot in her heart that she normally did not lease to anyone but her fondest cousin. That Elias seemed to have found a similar fondness for her, even for an instant, started up again those distant, confusing flutterings for which she yet had no name.

One half of the flowers had petals of an unearthly emerald-green, which seemed to glow

with their own whimsical sort of light. The other half were airy and insubstantial – and as she marvelled at them, Dora realised that they were crafted entirely from a silvery-grey smoke which seemed to waver in the drafty air of the townhouse. The flowers were, she thought, the exact colour of her eyes.

Lord Elias Wilder, the card said in messy cursive handwriting. And though the name was no surprise, Dora felt warm and vaguely confused while looking down at it.

“Miss Ettings,” Elias said. “Have you plans to attend any more balls? I normally avoid them, but I shall endeavour to make my way to at least one if you will promise me a dance.” Dora blinked at Elias. She had been readying some witty insult to level his way – but the unexpected pleasantry rocked her back in her seat. Her mind blanked, and she found herself searching vainly for a proper reply as his hazy golden eyes focused intently upon her. What is this? Dora wondered. The distant, fluttering feeling had returned to her stomach, now redoubled in strength. It was a lantern warmth, mixed with confusion and just a hint of nervousness. Was it a pleasant feeling, or was it uncomfortable? She could not seem to decide.

Slowly, he released his grip on her shoulders. This time, when his heat departed, Dora thought she must have felt the cold – because the absence of him made her feel as though something crucial was missing.

And so I tried to think of where I would want to be if I were not so bound to this hopeless task.” Dora knit her brow. “You cannot have thought of Lady Cushing’s ball,” she said sceptically. “I did not,” Elias said. “I thought of you, Dora. But you are here, and so here I am.” Those golden eyes held hers, and a flustered heat pooled against the surface of Dora’s skin. “I did not come here only to dance. I came here only to dance with you. It is quite a different thing.”

“It may be true that you only have half a soul, Dora,” he whispered, with a surprising abundance of empathy in his voice. “But that does not make you half a person.”

“I should lie and say that I have indeed brought down the stars for your amusement. But it’s a simple magic trick and nothing more.” He flicked a finger, and a haze of twinkling lights swept towards her, settling into the fabric of her dress and the strands of her hair.

A few of those gathered in the ballroom began to turn their attention towards Dora at that. If she had been anyone other than herself, she might have been embarrassed at the sudden attention. But Elias was smiling at her with a whimsical pleasure, and she was swimming in stars – and as the musicians slowly found their beat again and he took her back into his arms to dance, Dora could only feel the brightest, most wonderful lantern warmth she had ever known before.

Looking up at Elias in the flickering starlight, Dora found herself utterly arrested. There was an ethereal, otherworldly beauty to him just now that made her think he must surely be at least part faerie. Dora imagined his skin like moonlight, his hair like white silk, his eyes like banked embers. He was looking at her, incredibly, and not at the stars around them.

The whisper shivered its way into her heart, and Dora thought, Oh dear. Because she was now quite sure that she was in love. Every remaining ragged fibre of her half-soul shivered with the awareness of it.

She smiled dimly. “I am in love with you, just so you know. I had some trouble realising it, because I did not think that I could fall in love at all. But I am quite certain of it now.” Elias looked up at her with such a shocked expression that Dora immediately knew she had said something unconventional again. She pressed her lips together. “I see,” she sighed. “People do not normally say that, I suppose. You must pretend that I was much more elegant and indirect about the matter.” Elias swallowed. “You are perfect as you are, Dora,” he said softly. “And... and there are things which I should tell you—”

Elias reached up to brush his thumb over her cheek. “There is only so much time,” he said softly. “And I will not let you die. You once told me that your cousin was a warm lantern to you, Dora. I know what you mean by that now. Of all things, you have become my lantern too – and I cannot bring myself to let you go out.”

“You should say whatever you like,” Dora told him. “I am happy to see you. Surely you know that the rest does not matter.” Elias narrowed his eyes. “I do feel that it matters,” he said, and there was suddenly a note of contrariness to his voice. “One does not simply say let us go and get married, if you are amenable.” “But you did say that.” Dora beamed gently at him. “And I was amenable. I still am.” “Would you not argue with me for once?” Elias said with a flush. “Listen here, Miss Ettings! I am in love with you. You deserve to hear that. I love your wit and cleverness. I love that you are kind but almost never nice. I love your eyes and your hair and your freckles, and the fact that you smell like some monstrous floral perfume all of the time.” He paused, now looking somewhat offended at himself. “And I love to dance with you. That is the worst of it by far.”

“Dora,” said Elias. “I am sure that your other half is very lovely. But I fell in love with you exactly as you are. And perhaps that is for the best – if you were suddenly twice as charming, then I should be utterly overwhelmed.” He curled his hand around hers, and she felt a pleasant tingle against her skin.