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“Miiieeess Caaiille, stoooooiiiiip paaeeciiieengg. Yooiiiiu aaiirrree gooeeeiinng to tiieere yooiiurrseeiiilf beeiiiffore the baaeeell staaeerts,” Tilly fusses as she tidies up the makeup and extra fabric used to prepare me for the Masquerade of Shadows.

I’ve been pacing the floor for at least a half hour, waiting for the Cadre to escort me.

My palms are sweating profusely, and my stomach is so twisted that I fear I might be falling ill.

Perhaps agreeing to go this evening was a mistake, yet how could I refuse when the king made it clear that I’m to attend?

While a ball is innocent enough, I fear what he might have in store for me as his “guest of honor.”

When I asked Emyr about what to expect, he told me that even though the ball is called a Masquerade of Shadows, no one actually wears a mask.

When I inquired why it’s called a masquerade, he simply said because it happens under the cover of the mist, surrounded by shadows and darkness.

It’s a chance for the creatures from the courts in Zulgalros and Malvoria to mingle under the night sky, relishing the darkness.

Truthfully, that doesn’t sound malevolent or evil, yet I’ve heard about the creatures of Zulgalros and the cruelty they’re capable of when provoked.

You’ll be fine, my dear. The High General promised that the Cadre would be with you at all times, Saoirse says.

I know, I reply. I just worry about what the king might do if I provoke him. I’ve never attended a ball before, so I’m unsure of the protocols or decorum that’s expected of me.

I’m fully confident that you’ll do splendidly this evening. Nonetheless, if the need should arise, the Galrosans will help guide you through it. Allow yourself this one moment to enjoy a little revelry. Even if it’s in that detestable man’s court, Saoirse says.

It sounds like you’d rather be the one to go to this event, I jest.

As lovely as that sounds, I’ll happily enjoy watching it through your memories, she laughs.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Wish me luck, I reply.

I promise you won’t need it, but I shall wish it for you all the same. Good luck, my dear, Saoirse coos.

I straighten my shoulders, holding my head high.

“Enter,” I call out.

As the door swings wide, my mouth falls agape at the sight before me.

I’d expected to see the Cadre in their typical armor, as this is a royal event.

However, the sight of Laisren, Riordan, and Virgil with combed hair, rich-colored tunics, and luxurious tailcoats is quite shocking.

Their amber eyes, glistening brightly, compliment their pearly-white smiles.

In truth, I’ve always thought they were rather easy on the eyes in their armor, but this… Holy Celestae, they’re striking. It’s almost unfair how handsome they are—no wonder all the women giggle and blush in the hallways whenever they walk past .

“You’re going to catch faeries if you don’t close your mouth and stop gawking, Maeva,” Riordan jests.

My face heats as a blush crawls up my neck.

“It’s hard not to when you three look so dashing,” I laugh.

“Us?” Virgil asks, incredulously. “Look at you.” He smiles brightly as he places my hand around his bicep. “You look like a queen, Maeva.”

“You’re truly exquisite, Miss Cale,” Laisren says shyly as color stains his cheeks.

The dress that Tilly chose is quite lovely.

The off-the-shoulder silhouette elongates my neck, causing me to appear more regal than I’m used to.

The dazzling emerald green is luminous, glinting in the floating candlelight as the elaborate gold embellishments twinkle as if holding hundreds of tiny pixies.

The bell-shaped skirt fans out, cinching in my waist. Tilly lightly curled my wavy hair, twisting a small portion of hair away from my face and securing it in the back.

She also added small gems to match the embellishments on the gown, while painting my lips a mauve-rose color.

“You’re all too kind. Tilly is quite the miracle worker,” I say, looking at the kind maid.

Tilly shrugs her broad shoulders. “Ooiinnly brooiiiuught ooouuuiit thee beaauuiiity wiieethiieen,” she says.

“And what a marvelous job you’ve done,” Laisren replies.

Virgil clears his throat. “Are you ready to go?” he asks.

I sigh, only now noticing that Emyr isn’t here. I don’t know why, but his absence causes my nerves to spike.

“Maeva?” Virgil asks.

“I suppose I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” I say. “But I’m just wondering, why isn’t Emyr here? Is he not attending also?”

The Galrosans exchange glances in a way that reminds me of the conversations Cara and I could have with only our eyes.

Oh, how she would have loved an event that involved dancing.

Indeed she would, Saoirse replies.

Laisren clears his throat, turning toward the door. “Emyr will meet us there,” he says quickly. “He had some business to attend to.”

I arch one of my eyebrows at the other two Galrosans that won’t glance at me. It appears the floors and walls are more entertaining.

Are they avoiding eye contact with me on purpose? I ask Saoirse.

It would seem so, she replies.

“What sort of business?” I ask. “He gave me his word that he would be here tonight.”

“He will be,” Riordan says, moving for the door. “It will just be in a little while.”

I sigh as Virgil nudges me forward.

It’s apparent that I won’t receive a straight answer from the Cadre about their High General.

It’s strange to see them so skittish to speak of him.

I know Emyr is more of a private person, but surely if it were so important that he missed escorting me to the Masquerade of Shadows, he would’ve told them to inform me—especially after our heart-to-heart conversation yesterday.

He was vulnerable with me, and I’d been so with him.

It was nice to have someone else to speak to about what occurred in the throne room.

While he’d remained quiet as I recounted everything, he’d seemed bothered by what I’d said.

Of course, I could only tell that by the spark in his eyes, since he still refuses to remove his armor around me.

The memory of my hands going to the sides of his helmet is still fresh.

His eyes solely focused on my face with an intensity that I’m sure made me blush.

For a single moment, I thought he might let me remove it, but he quickly pulled away.

“I want to see you,” I said . “May I remove your helmet?”

“Another time,” he replied, quickly dropping the dome and leaving without another word.

Perhaps I offended him.

Or, Saoirse interjects, perhaps he’s making sure that armor is extra shiny for tonight.

Before I can stop it, a small laugh bubbles out of me .

The Cadre stops walking, assessing me in the dimly lit corridor.

“Is something amusing you?” Virgil asks.

I’m grateful for the shadows, because it hides how flushed my cheeks are currently. “Ohh, it’s nothing,” I murmur.

Riordan smiles conspiratorially. “No, something made you laugh,” Riordan teases. “Do enlighten us.”

I wonder if I should use Emyr’s name or his title since we are out in the open.

I opt for his title just in case someone is listening, but either way, this will be embarrassing.

The bloody voice in my head, I curse.

“Ohhhh… well… I was just thinking about the High General,” I say. “I was imagining him polishing his armor so it will be extra shiny tonight. Which is why he isn’t here currently.”

All is silent, then they erupt into fits of laughter as they walk.

“That sounds just like something he’d do,” Riordan laughs.

“The High General loves his shiny armor,” Virgil says with a wink.

Thank you for that, I grimace.

Happy to amuse you, my dear, Saoirse replies.

The palace seems quite empty compared to the usual hustle and bustle during the day. Even the wailing spirits are silent, which I find unnerving. They seldom cease their crying, which makes me question what will befall me this evening if even the ghosts cower and hide.

“The spirits also attend the festivities,” Virgil whispers, as if he could hear my thoughts. “They find the dances amusing.”

I stare at my Galrosan escort curiously. “You speak to them?” I ask.

“Celestae, no,” Virgil laughs. “They just show up at the events, watching from above as creatures and people alike twirl along the grass. I believe it reminds them of their lives before they died.”

Well, I suppose that makes sense.

I hadn’t noticed when we exited the halls of the palace, because we now stand at the entrance of what I assume is the Masquerade of Shadows.

Two large puke-green ogres dressed in some sort of waistcoats are holding scrolls in their hands—checking the names of all those that enter under the large bramble-hedged archway. And we’re next in line.

My grip around Virgil’s arm tightens as my breathing hastens.

Sensing my trepidation, his free hand rests atop mine as he leans in close.

“Be brave, Little Star,” he whispers.