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“She’s been dead a long time. So you’re all good.”

My breath hitches. A dead girl. How fitting. I get a closer look. “You didn’t change my eyes.”

“Those have always given me trouble.” He smooths a thumb over my eyelid once more, then tsks when I reopen them. “I’m sorry. But maybe that’ll help your mother know it’s you.”

This will have to do.

“Are you guys done yet?” Abby says, ducking her head inside the bathroom again. “I’m not sure how much longer I can keep telling people it’s broken before one of them insists on fixing it with magic.” Abby sees me and gasps. “Oh, Mynick, you’ve outdone yourself.”

“Are you sure it’s good enough?” I stare right at her, wondering if my eyes give me away.

She spins me twice. “If I passed you, I wouldn’t have a clue who you are.”

Mynick checks his watch. Then he holds out an arm to Abby. She ropes around it. “We’ll see you inside.”

I hide my bag, with everything that means anything to me, behind the commode in the biggest stall and lock the stall door. Then I pull the icy chill to my fingers and smooth it on the top door hinge. It corrodes on contact. The door dislodges, and the whole thing juts forward, dangling from its one working hinge. At least the stall appears out of service.

This will work.

The ballroom’s doors are wide open, and sweet, cheerful music welcomes me inside as I approach. An attendant waits at the door, greeting and announcing guests.

“Unescorted, madam?”

My heart thumps. “Yes, sir.” I curtsy. A name. I hadn’t thought of a name. “Miss Lark Marie Doumont. House of Perl.” I dip again in a perfect curtsy, the red taffeta of my gown brushing the floor.

He announces my arrival, and I blow out a tight breath, stepping inside.

The ballroom is a palace of mums bursting in full bloom, in every autumn hue. A swath of finely dressed guests move around decadent tables overflowing with rich fall-colored fabrics, shiny plates, gold flatware, and dainty glasses. The walls are plastered with scenic wallpapers of moody landscapes between tall, slender windows. There’s a crowded dance floor large enough to be a room of its own. I gather the skirt of my dress in my fists. Every House is here celebrating the year-end off-Season fall ball.

The music reminds me of the Tidwell, a ball I attended with the boy I’d like to forget. Still, the glamour of this event unfurls something warm in my chest. This whole place dazzles. I hold my shawl tighter around my shoulders, remembering the way it felt to move to music, to be held close to him. Back when I believed his touch meant something and hoped there could be a life for me that sparkles like this.

It hurt to love him. And yet it hurts to miss him.

I’m not sure which is worse.

I move through the clusters of people immersed in chatter, their fine clothes showcasing a tapestry of House colors, with one person on my mind—my mother. I slip past, mostly unnoticed. Occasionally someone looks my way, but I offer a polite smile and keep moving, searching for some glimpse of anyone who looks like my mom. She would blend in with the backdrop, determined to not be seen. I scan the room. Waiters pass trays between the tables, and I study each of their faces for any hint of familiarity. Where are you, Mom?

The music changes and a rush of bodies brush past me, swarming the dance floor.

“Madam, might I have this—” someone says.

I walk away from the dance floor even faster, going to mingle with the servers. But as I approach, they scatter. It’s poor etiquette for servers to crowd the guests. I sigh, exasperated, when I spot someone removing appetizer plates.

“Excuse me!” I flag them as they try to scamper off.

“Madam?”

“I have a question about…about a server who…”

His brow knits in confusion.

“Who left their, um, glasses at my table.”

“Eyeglasses? They took them off and left them?”

“Yes. And so I just wondered if you might point me in her direction. She’s about my height, deep brown skin, and dark eyes. She has long hair, but it’s mostly gray. She sometimes walks with a limp because her feet hurt. And—”

“Your server spoke to you about her feet?”