On Friday evening,I stared down my disheveled wardrobe, willing it to produce something worthy of a Gilded party. I’d rifled through every item I owned—every dress, every skirt—and found them all lacking. I silently cursed myself for turning down my mother’s offer to take me shopping in Old Port last summer. In desperation, I palmed at the back of the wardrobe until I found the dreary black dress I’d worn to my father’s funeral. Could I wear a funeral dress to Bryce’s party? My nerves fraying, I hitched my towel more tightly around myself as I eyed the dress for another disappointing moment before tossing it to the floor with the rest of the rejects.
I was attempting to comb through my wet, tangled hair when the lock clicked. Gwen appeared at the threshold, her eyes bulging in surprise as she took in the scattered contents of my wardrobe, my harried expression, and my sopping-wet hair. Water dripped quietly onto the only bare spot of floor where I stood.
“Sorry, Gwen,” I apologized. “I’ll clean all this up—” I shoved a pile of unfolded shirts back into a drawer. “I’m just having trouble finding something to wear for tonight?—”
“I can see that,” Gwen noted. Her lips twitched in amusement. “What’s the occasion?”
“Tonight’s Bryce Yu-Ri’s party,” I explained.
To her credit, Gwen did not betray any surprise at my being extended an invitation. “Oh! Of course,” she murmured.
I could almost feel the curiosity burning in her gaze. “Who are you going with?” she asked, her brows rising innocently.
I cringed internally. Ofcourse, Gwen would misread the frantic gleam in my eye and assume it was about a boy. But Casimir wasn’t the reason my nerves were fluttering like impatient butterflies in my stomach. It was the prospect of spending an entire evening under the derisive gaze of the blue-blooded socialites who would either ignore me outright or sneer at my very existence. Wearing the wrong outfit would be a surefire way of garnering additional unwanted attention. Casimir was decidedly the least of my problems tonight.
“I’m going with Casimir, but it’s not a date,” I clarified quickly, my cheeks heating.
Gwen grinned, a devious glint in her hazel eyes. “Is he coming to pick you up?”
“I told you, it’snota date” I said firmly. “We’ll probably meet there. We’re only going to—” What? Pull off a jewelry heist? Find the Keeper’s Heir to prevent an evil society from seizing more power? I cleared my throat. “We’re going as friends, and… honestly, I’m curious. I want to see what the fuss is all about.” It was partly true. I wanted to witness a notorious Gilded Circle party for myself, in all its debauchery. I offered Gwen a shrug that was perhaps a tad too nonchalant to be believed.
She slumped a little in disappointment. “Oh.”
Turning away from her so she wouldn’t see the flush that crept to my cheeks, I added brusquely, “I’m running late and I have absolutely nothing to wear,” and resumed my fiendish rummage through the pile of clothes on the floor.
From her perch on the bed, Gwen arched her brow. “Is this your way of asking me if you can borrow something?”
My head snapped up in time to watch a mischievous grin spread across her face.
“I have just the thing.”
I quickenedmy pace toward the twisting green gates, the icy night air biting at my bare legs beneath my coat. Teeth chattering, I yanked at the fabric of the dress to cover the sliver of exposed leg, courtesy of the dress’s daringly high slit, so that it covered Casimir’s name. The last thing I needed was for anyone at the party to notice it.
After much cajoling, I’d finally agreed to borrow one of Gwen’s dresses—a very lovely dress—in a pale blue silk that clung to my hips and curves. I bit back my reservations, but a dull flush rose to my cheeks the moment I saw my white thigh, like a streak of moonlight. Between the two of us, Gwen had the most fun with my makeover, but I’d drawn the line at jewelry. The dress was so elegant on its own, I felt that adding any baubles would only distract from the overall effect. I accepted her offer to loan me a pair of strappy silver heels, and she’d insisted on painting my lips a dark, cherry red and combing my lashes coal-black. She even styled my unruly waves until they shone like silk. When she was finished, she turned me around to face the mirror propped on her vanity.
I hardly recognized myself.
My silver heels clicked along the darkened path toward the edge of campus. Without the hordes of students bustling to class or lounging on the lawn, it was unnervingly quiet. My gaze caught on the seraphic sliver of moon that hung above, its sharp edges emboldened by a seam of inky black sky. Only a few stars remained visible against that blanket of night. A streak of pale blue silk peeked out from underneath my overcoat, shimmering like fairy dust in the moonlight. There was something magical in the air tonight.
But gods, it wasfuckingfreezing. I’d planned to walk the half mile to Bryce’s family’s estate on Pearl Street having conveniently forgotten I’d be wearing heels.
My body registered that something was amiss before my mind caught up. I took one step past the iron gates and drew in a breath as sharp as ice. Just beyond the reach of the lamplight across the street stood a dark figure, their silhouette cloaked in shadow. I squinted to try and make out their features as a plume of smoke wafted into the air, obscuring the stranger’s face. I froze. I was alone and, aside from the small dagger concealed beneath my dress, unarmed. Adrenaline pulsed through my body like an electric current, but I remained frozen to the spot. The only movement was my rapid breathing, sending puffs of white vapor into the freezing night air. Fuck. Was I about to be attacked?
But then the smoke cleared, and Casimir emerged from the shadows. Of course, he did.
Irritation quickly replaced any relief I felt as he crossed the street to join me.
“How long have you been standing there?” I demanded, clutching at my chest to settle my pounding heart, my fear quickly turning to anger as I took in his smug expression.
“If you scare that easily, maybe it isn’t such a good idea to attend the party after all,” he murmured.
Scowling, I retorted, “Bryce and her coterie of gilded sycophants don’t scare me.”
Casimir cast me a sidelong glance. “I wasn’t talking about them.”
I didn’t need to ask to know who he was referring to, but at the moment, irritation eclipsed every other emotion. “Are you going to tell me why you were lurking in the dark like some psychopath?” I shuddered again as a patch of dark clouds moved across the sky, shrouding the faint stratum of moonlight.
“I was waiting for you to show up. I thought we could go together,” he replied smoothly. His expression was open and innocent, but his eyes glimmered with mischief.