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“Are you sure?” I ask again, but his attention shifts to a woman walking down the hall. She’s tall with dark shiny hair, her skin like porcelain, gleaming and smooth, much like the pearls around her neck. “Adeline, it’s like you never age.”

“Hello, Gibson,alwaysthe charmer.”

I watch as they press a kiss against each other’s cheeks. I’m used to pretension and social niceties. I was raised on them at the Manor. In fact, we had classes. Boring and tedious, but I understand the language these two are speaking: polite but not friendly.

Her cool blue eyes land on me. “You must be Arianette.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Like a worn pair of ballet shoes, the lessons slip back on easily.

“Gorgeous,” she says, eyes sweeping over me. “There’s no doubt you’ll make the King a beautiful bride.”

The compliment hits me square in the chest, unfurling the hope I have just a little bit more.

“Arianette, Adeline runs the Gilded Rose, the most premier salon and spa in East End–”

“In Forsyth,” Adeline gently nudges. “Otherwise, why would you be here?”

His cheeks suck in, like he’s controlling himself. “Under normal circumstances, a Baron wedding would be a simple affair, but nothing about our circumstances is normal. The Black Wedding is unique, even for the Barons, and it requires the kindof attention to detail that only one person in Forsyth is known to have when it comes to traditions and ceremonies.”

“So you acknowledge it.” Her chin lifts. “Am I hearing that correctly?”

“Yes, Adeline,” he barely contains a sigh, “you are that person, and we are eternally grateful for your assistance.”

I can’t follow the subtext between these two.

“Thank you,” she says, as if that’s all she wanted to hear. “Now, shoo,” she waves Graves off, “we’ve got work to do.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Only women are allowed past the foyer,” he explains, then nods to a floral love seat in the next room. “I’ll be out here. Call if you need anything.”

Adeline turns her back on Graves and links her arm with mine. “Now, let me get you settled and I’ll grab you a cup of tea, then we’ll go back to my office to get started working on your special day.”

I shoot Graves a final look, but he seems entirely at ease as she leads me down a hallway. Framed photos fill the walls, woman after woman, dressed in white. The earlier ones are in black and white, but they change to color photographs as we get farther down the hall. She ushers me into her office, all-white furniture and pristine decor, a strange contrast to the world I come from. The black lace of my dress is stark as I sink into one of the tufted chairs. I keep my knees together, hands folded, pretending not to notice the way my skin looks. Too brown, too loud in this bright space.

She returns with a delicate china cup balanced on a matching saucer. “Special blend,” she says with a smile. “Perfect for perking up a Royal post-celebration.”

I take it cautiously. The tea is fragrant, sharp with citrus and something deeper beneath it, an herbal undertone I can’t quite place. I glance up at her, one brow lifting.

“The King likes me to have organic and natural foods,” I say carefully, as if reciting a script.

“I’m well aware of the Baron King's ways.” Her voice is calm, clipped. “I would never give you anything that violated his policies.”

I sip, tasting the warm concoction. It’s smooth on my tongue, and whatever was coiled in my chest begins to unravel–not entirely, but enough.

“Now,” she says, moving to the corner of the room, “let’s get started.” She enters a code into a discreet panel in the wall. With a quiet click, a sleek white drawer opens, and she lifts a heavy, leather-bound book from within.

I blink; not what I expected from a wedding planner.

Adeline places the book between us with reverence, smoothing one hand over the embossed pentagram on the cover. It gleams under the soft light, dark leather, nearly black, with age-worn edges and red thread peeking out from the spine.

“Graves was right about one thing,” she says, voice low. “I do tend to be the keeper of East End traditions, and quite a few secrets, many just coming into the light. But many years ago, your King brought this to me. An effort to preserve the rites and rituals of the Black Wedding. For the future.”

I trail my fingers along the edges of the cover. It feels like touching history. Heavy, sacred, laced with things best left unnamed.

“Why didn’t he keep it at the House of Night?” I ask, voice quieter now.

Her lips curl, not unkindly. “Sometimes the safest places are in enemy territory.”