Guilt crashed over Emmaline like a bitter tide.
Damn it.
She knew how fragile Margo could be, how much she hated direct conflict. Emmaline was one of the few people who knew thetruth—that despite her noble blood, despite the wealth and status she carried by name alone, Margo had no natural magic.
In a city built on magic, in a world where nearly every creature had the power to kill her without a second thought, Margo was practically human.
And Emmaline had just lashed out at her like she was nothing.
“I’m so sorry, Margo.” Emmaline closed the distance and wrapped her arms around her friend, holding tight. Margo was tense for half a second before exhaling and sagging slightly into the embrace.
“I promised not to react, and I reacted.” Emmaline rested her chin briefly against Margo’s shoulder. “You’re just mistaken, that’s all. I shouldn’t have gotten so upset. I’m a shite friend.”
“The worst,” Margo huffed, her voice wobbly. She didn’t press the issue. Didn’t argue. Just squared her shoulders like someone accepting a loss with practiced grace. “I really don’t know why I put up with you.”
“Me neither.” Emmaline pressed a quick kiss to the crown of Margo’s head before pulling back and sinking into the chair once more. She gestured vaguely at the extravagant mess of gowns and shoes strewn across the bed. “I would understand if you wanted to withdraw all your fancy-ass noble support and leave me to my peasant fate.”
“Not at all!” Margo sniffed, straightening with a small, determined shake of her shoulders. “Fancy-ass noble support is what I do best.” Then, after a beat, her lips tightened, the lightness dimming just a fraction. “It’s about all I can do, eh?”
“Margo—”
Emmaline was already standing, ready to tell her exactly how ridiculous she was being, but Margo waved a hand, cutting her off before she could start.
“Forget it.” It was an old fight, one they’d had a hundred times, one that never seemed to change anything. “And let’s make sure you’re ready for the ball.”
“Margo…”
But her friend was already turning back to the pile of dresses, determined to move forward.
For now, Emmaline let her.
“I’ll even throw in some extras you can wear tomorrow to elevate your white uniform dress. That way, you can snag the man’s attention without technically breaking Lady Isolde’s ridiculous rules.”
“What?” Emmaline jumped up, already distracted, her previous frustration forgotten as she leaned over the pile of treasures on the bed. “That would be brilliant! Thank you, Margo!”
Margo let out a satisfiedmmhas she sifted through the collection, the sound more pleased than she probably intended. “I might not be entirely on board with this whole Caelith obsession of yours…” She plucked a jeweled clasp from the pile and twirled it between her fingers. “But I’m definitely on board with puttingthat womanin her place. Goddess, she’s awful.”
“So awful,” Emmaline agreed, her fingers grazing over a breathtaking platinum belt.
Strands of metal knit together in an intricate lattice, merging into the shape of ivy vines frozen in silver moonlight. Tiny crystalline gems glimmered at the center of each leaf, catching the candlelightlike drops of morning dew. It was beautiful—elegant and defiant, the perfect touch of nobility to push the line without crossing it.
Emmaline lifted the belt, running her fingers over the cool metal, already picturing how it would gleam against the stark white of her uniform. But more than that, it was proof.
Proof that she could belong. Proof that, come tomorrow, he would have no choice but to finally see her. And this time, when Caelith looked at her, he wouldn’t look away.
Chapter eight
Emmalinewascrouchedlowbehind the massive marble statue, carefully angling herself out of sight when—
“Just what do you think you're wearing?”
Lady Isolde’s voice, sharp as a tailor’s needle, shattered the quiet.
Startled, Emmaline jerked upright only to slam, face-first, into the cold, unyielding marble of Llews Moonson’s most notable feature. A shock of pain shot through her skull, and she staggered back, hand flying to her cheek as heat flared across her skin.
A dignifiedtskfollowed. “I thought I gave you very clear instructions.”
Emmaline cleared her vision against the swirling stars just in time to see Lady Isolde coming to a stop in the hallway, looking over the scene with practiced disapproval.
