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To my surprise, Odessa’s expression mirrors my own. “No. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve told Dimitri to stay away from her. He won’t listen,” she says simply, placing her half-empty goblet on the tray of a passing attendant. Her mouth twists as if she’s lost her appetite. “He says he loves her.”

“Does he?”

“In his mind, perhaps.” She tears her gaze away when Dimitri throws his head back and laughs at something Margot said. “Who can truly say? My brother tends to fall in love with everyone he meets.”

We lapse into silence as the clock ticks on, and eventually, my thoughts stray from Dimitri and Margot to Ivan and Pasha, who still loom behind us. To the vampires all around who cast quick, cutting looks in our direction. None approach, however, and thank God for that. My nerves are stretched taut as it is, winding tighter and tighter with each song. I don’t know whether I want the clock to speed up or slow down—because when Michal arrives, the enchantment around the isle will have broken, and the Necromancer will follow.

I feel the exact second the enchantment breaks.

It happens a heartbeat before the clock strikes midnight—the very air seems to stir, seems towake, and when the first chime clangs through the castle, it ripples outward in a wave toward the sea. I grasp Odessa’s arm for balance as the ground seems to shudder, as the chandeliers clink gently overhead. The musicians stop playing abruptly, and—staring up at the crystal with an impassive expression—Odessa murmurs, “So it begins.”

Michal appears on the dais as the last chime falls silent.

Though he makes no sound, every head in the room turns toward him, and the ensuing silence feels deeper than usual. Unnatural. It takes several long, unnerving seconds for me to realize why: Margot and I are the only ones in the room who need to breathe. The rest stand cold and still as statues. Even those on the ceiling look as though they’ve been carved into the fresco, perhaps created as part of the castle itself. Enduring and ancient and sinister. They don’t even blink. Chills skitter down my spine at the thought, and I do not release Odessa’s arm.

Michal’s eyes find mine instantly through the crowd. They peruse my person slowly, thoroughly, as if he doesn’t care in the slightest that every creature in the room waits for him to speak. No—as if heexpectsthem to wait. And the vampires oblige. Not a single one interrupts as he stares at me, and I—

I can’t help it. MyGod, I can’t help it.

I stare at him too.

Chest bare, he wears his signature black leather everywhere else: his boots, his pants, his mask, even twin straps of it across his broad shoulders. They support the colossal wings that rise from his back, the hundreds of thousands of obsidian feathers on eachone. My mouth goes dry at the sight of them. Unlike crow and raven wings, these feathers don’t collect and reflect light; no, they seem toabsorbit, casting Michal in a perverse halo of darkness. He looks almost like the— I tilt my head, then loose a slow breath in realization.

Heisthe Angel of Death.

And he can’t take his eyes off me.

Heat builds in my belly the longer he looks, a sort of liquid fire that spreads across my chest and into my cheeks. The nostrils of the nearest vampires flare in response. Odessa cuts them a sharp glance, and Pasha and Ivan appear swiftly on either side of us. Ivan stands so close that I canfeelthe chill emanating from his arm; he doesn’t wear a costume like the others. Even a mask could not hide the menace in his expression.

“Good evening,” Michal says at last, clasping his hands behind his back. Though he speaks softly—his voice barely above a whisper—every word rings out with lethal precision. “And welcome to my home on this All Hallows’ Eve. Each one of you looks magnificent.” His eyes flick briefly to me before surveying the crowd once more. “I understand the revelry is different this year. I could not usher your loved ones into Requiem, and for that, I will not apologize. Never before has the threat of the outside world pressed closer, and we cannot risk our home for the sake of one blood-drunken night.” A meaningful pause. “However... even I cannot stop the enchantment around Requiem from lifting. The magic that protects this isle is unyielding and eternal, but tonight—if your loved ones so choose—I cannot stop them from joining you.”

Though the vampires remain unmoving, an undercurrent of... something seems to stir within them at his words. Anticipation?No.Defiance.Gooseflesh creeps down my neck.

“That said,” Michal continues, his voice still deceptively soft, “I would urge you to remember that I am also unyielding and eternal. I will not forgive those who endanger our home, and I will not forget them either.” Unclasping his hands, he spreads his arms wide in supplication, and the muscles in his chest stretch long and powerful with the movement. An odd pang shoots through my stomach at the sight. Tensing, I drop Odessa’s arm and keep my own tight to my sides. “With that, I bid you to enjoy the masquerade and invite you to stay until dawn.”

He steps from the dais without another word, and the crowd parts reflexively as he strides through it.

Straight toward me.

“Oh God,” I whisper as the musicians resume their song and the vampires gradually drift back to their drinking and mingling. “I owe Monsieur Marc a dance,” I blurt abruptly,loudly. Cringing, I step backward and search desperately for any sign of candy-floss hair.There.On the opposite side of the room, he chats animatedly with a strapping young man and his buxom companion. He also wears the most ostentatious peacock mask I’ve ever seen.

Odessa doesn’t follow my gaze, instead smirking at whatever she sees in my expression. “Monsieur Marc looks rather busy at the moment, doesn’t he?” Then she twirls a lock of my hair around her finger and says, “Good luck.”

She melts into the crowd before I can beg her to stay.

Michal appears a second later, and I have no choice but to return his slight bow with a curtsy. “Hello, Michal,” I say a bit breathlessly. Up close, he looks even more unattainable—his chest somehow wider without a shirt, his body less cultured and moreprimitive. But ofcourseit’s less cultured. He isn’t wearing ashirt, and I—I—

I shake my head, cursing my wandering eyes, as he tilts his head to study me. When his lips pull up at the corner, I clench my hands in the delicate fabric of my skirt to hide their trembling. Because why am I looking at hislips? We aren’t here to gape at each other, and I need to focus. I need tofocus. Because we’rehereto trap the Necromancer, to lure him into a false sense of—

“Hello, pet.” Michal’s grin widens, and—impossibly gentle—he coaxes one of my hands into his own before placing a kiss on my inner wrist. My knees threaten to buckle. “You seem... nervous this evening.”

“Nervous? I’m not nervous.”

“Your pulse is louder than the music.”

“Stop listening to mypulse, then, and we won’t have a problem. It’s invasive, you know, to—to listen to things like that. Perhaps I imbibed several glasses of champagne before you arrived, andthatis why my heart is racing. Did you ever think of that? Perhaps I’ve been dancing vigorously with Odessa—”

He chuckles, and the sound thrums against my skin until I shiver with it. “My cousin,” he says, his voice low, “loathes to dance, and unless I’m much mistaken, it’ll be a very long time before you imbibe again. After all, you askedmeto dance the last time.” His eyes glitter in the candlelight. “And what a shame it would be if you asked again. Who knows how I might answer?”