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“Um, guys.” I raise a hand, practically begging them to stop. “Can you maybe tone down the predatory vibe a level or two—actually, ten would be good.”

“Sorry,” Oliver says.

“Yeah, sorry,” Finn echoes. “Just trying to make a point.”

“Now, it’s your turn to be honest.” I look at Mason. “Are you going to be okay?” Having decided that if he’s not, then we’ll remain right here until the hour is up, the others return, and we head back to Gray Wolf. I’ll deal with the aftermath when the time comes. Because this isMason. I’ve always had his back, and he’s always had mine.

What I wasn’t expecting is the mischievous glint in Mason’s gaze as he says, “Have I totally lost it, or is this like a real-life version of Anywhere but Here?”

I break out laughing, remembering the game we used to play during lunch when we’d pretend we were eating in glamorous locales, dressed in the sort of aspirational clothes we could then only dream about.

“It’s even better,” I say. “Because it’s real.” I bite down on my lip, hoping he’ll see the amazing opportunities afforded in this. “So, are you ready to meet the nineteenth century?”

“We just go in there and…and fill our pockets?” he says.

“That’s the idea. Just try to keep the talking to a minimum,” I say. “And, when you do speak, avoid slang, keep it formal, follow their lead, that sort of thing.”

“And most importantly, don’t get caught,” Oliver says.

“Whatever you do, don’t get caught,” Finn repeats. “It puts us all at risk. Once we’re inside, it’s every person for themselves.”

“Oh, and don’t be late,” Oliver adds. “Just blink three times in quick succession, and your contacts will display the amount of time left and direct you back here. And if you’re not back before the hour is up…” He leaves the threat unspoken, prompting Mason to turn to me in alarm.

“The portal waits for no one,” I tell him.

19

The space is a dazzling sight to behold.

A vast and vibrant ballroom, dripping with what must amount to thousands of candles and even more flowers, and it’s not long before Mason, enthralled by the opulence and grandeur, takes off, leaving me with a view of his back before he’s lost in the crowd.

I’m about to go after him when Oliver pulls me right back. “Let him go,” he says.

“You’re not serious?” I whirl on him, trying to appear refined and genteel on the outside, but inside, I’m a five-alarm bell. “He has no idea what he’s doing, and—” I gesture toward the party, my heart banging out a frantic beat at the thought of Mason getting lost, caught, left behind, or any of the terrible things that can happen when Tripping. “He doesn’t have a talisman, and I seriously doubt anyone warned him about the dangers of falling into a Fade.” I try to jerk free, but Oliver is surprisingly strong.

“And whose fault is that?” Oliver says. “Believe me, we tried. But you were buried in library books. You never got to witness his one-man revolt. So maybe Arthur’s right. Maybe this is the only way to get through to him. Because honestly, Natasha, nothing else worked.”

He lets go of me then, but I remain rooted in place. “I thought you guys were supposed to be his friends?” I snap, spending equal time glaring at each of them.

“We are,” Finn says. “Which is why we tried to warn him. Even Elodie did what she could. But he refused to play along, and—”

“And now’s his chance to use whatever he might’ve retained and find his own way,” Oliver cuts in.

My gaze scans the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of my friend, but it’s a blur of bright shiny faces, sparkling jewels, and dazzling gowns.

“It’s sink or swim,” Finn says, and my heart flails at the thought.

Partly because I know that they’re right. And, if it were anyone else, I might go along.

But this is Mason. My best friend in the world. And the very fact that he’s here is completely my fault.

“And now…” I turn, watching as Oliver blinks three times in rapid succession before centering his gaze on me. “We’re down to fifty-two minutes, so…”

Finn is the first to leave, winding through the crowd until I can no longer see him.

Oliver hangs back, but only long enough to say, “No one’s going to leave Mason behind, so just focus on the job and don’t worry.”

Before I can ask him for a promise, a guarantee, a solemnly sworn vow that he really, truly won’t let that happen, Oliver is walking away.