Marissa's mouth was a grim line as she said, "Even today, he pulled a disappearing act."

My fingers curled around the end of my wooden spoon as despondency wrecked the last remains of hope. How could Dolcie keep doing this to Oswin?

"Maybe he's busy with work," I offered weakly.

"It's not if he's having an affair... It's whom with."

My eyes flared wide. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean," Marissa said, her hard gaze slashing to mine as she drew her full height and glared down at me along the length of her slender nose. "My mother suspects it's one of the servants. And I'm inclined to believe her."

I didn't need to remember to act surprised because I was. Shock slackened my mouth because some silly part of me had hoped if Sanela discovered the truth she'd have believed the other woman would be someone from her own rank, not a servant, and the affair certainly not conducted within her home, under her very nose.

All the fight evaporated, and Marissa slumped against the wall, looking downward at her hands as she rubbed them together. She glanced up beneath her eyelashes, misery misting her eyes. "Gods, Tabitha, it's been awful this week. She's seething and I don't blame her. I suspect she would have turned a blind eye if the woman came from one of the upper ranks, but she isn't. She's a servant."

The underlying insult stung. Even if Marissa was a friend and too caught up in pain to realize just how offensive it sounded, it still hurt.

I stroked my hand up her arm, squeezing in commiseration and understanding. She ran a knuckle under her eyes to wipe away the filmy moisture of tears and suddenly perked up with a small fake smile. "Anyway, all that can keep until after the wedding, and you'll promise me a girl's night, just the two of us, and we'll talk further about it then."

She offered her little finger and I curled mine around hers, whispering, "I promise." Except I felt cheap and dishonest because I knew fully well I'd continue lying to her, smiling in sympathy and offering solace, when I knew exactly who it was having an affair with Romain and that Marissa was going to have a half-brother or sister in seven months' time.

Marissa pushed off the wall, running the flat of her hand down a sleeve to tug at the ruched cuff, before angling her chin to a spot behind me. My bedroom, I realized when she said, "Time to get ready for the party, Miss Catt."

Pulling me forward, Marissa led me to the door, opened it up, and ushered me inside.

Thirty minutes later I was showered and dressed in the outfit my aunt wanted me to wear tonight. Marissa sat on our small couch with perfect posture, her knees together and feet neatly tucked to the side. Her leather tote slouched on the cushion seat beside her, onto which, years ago, I'd tossed a throw-over to hide the fabric's threadbare patches.

Aunt Ellena stood in front of me, the skin pinched around her eyes as she focused on my mouth, sweeping a coat of glossy lipstick the same shade as my lips. She'd applied the barest of makeup, a light sheen of foundation, and a single flick of brown mascara.

She twisted the lipstick down and recapped it. Taking a few steps back she beamed as her gaze trailed from my face, down my figure to my feet, and back up again.

I could barely hold her gaze. I stood in the middle of the small room stiff as a mannequin, my heartbeat skittish, trying not to flinch every time she fussed about my figure. After last night, I didn't know how to act around her. This morning both of us were so busy getting ready for work that she hadn't realized I was quieter, why I was suddenly so gun-shy and flighty. I'd taken off for work early, not bothering with breakfast because I couldn't sit across from her with dark thoughts whirling around in my head like I was turning over a rock, cracked and covered with dying moss, half buried in the earth, watching the slithering, creeping bugs scuttle away underneath.

I wasn't ready to turn this question over and seek the answer.

Had Aunt Ellena been responsible for my mother's death?

I'd told Varen what I could of my truth in the coat room. I was tired. I'd barely slept last night. During the early hours of the morning, I'd leaned over the side of the bunk, constantly checking on my aunt to make sure she was asleep and that the thing had not resurfaced. And in between, my cold fingers clutching the warmth of my blankets and my head cushioned by my pillow, I'd stared upward at the shifting shadows played across the ceiling, going over the unearthed memory in my head, again and again.

I'd tried to expand upon that uncovered memory. But it remained as it was, a strange abstract snippet with nothing on either side to weigh it down.

The impression I had of my mother as she brushed and tugged at my hair was someone not right, as if she'd been caught in her own inky nightmare. With the wildness of her appearance, the dirt stains, and leaves caught in her hair, she looked like she'd been out wandering the forest in just her nightie.

In the mirror, my reflection, me as a child of six or seven years old, I couldn't quite grasp who I'd been looking at. She—me—I was gaunt and sickly looking.

My mother had met my gaze in the mirror, an unhinged sheen to her hazel eyes as she warned me. "Your aunt wants to steal you from me."

And that thing in the Hemmlok Forest last night.

It stood beneath the giant elms and barbed hawthorns, fog slinking around its figure like a ghostly cloak, and hissed—Your aunt is lying to you.

Aunt Ellena had confessed earlier that night while we'd sat on a craggy ledge, that all she'd ever wanted was a little girl all to herself.

My mother was dead.

And here I was with Aunt Ellena.

The sound of Marissa making a thoughtful hum drew my attention to her. She tilted her head, squinting as if she wasn't sure what she was looking at. "Well...it's..." she said with a watery smile. "It's certainly..."

"Adorable," my aunt finished for her, reaching forward to run her palm over my smooth hair. She'd wrapped the long length up into a bun at the top of my head, secured with a black scrunchie.

Aunt Ellena had dressed me in a tartan blazer in a glum yellow with velvet lapels and boxy shoulders from her early days. The wide striped tie she'd expertly knotted matched the color scheme perfectly. The tie ends lay against a white dress shirt that was frumpy and had zero personality. And the baggy skirt she'd personally made to complete my outfit was navy with an elastic waistband and had no shape to it all. The hem, as usual, was wonky and it sat at a completely unflattering point on my legs, mid-calf.

"Since everyone's wearing a suit tonight I thought it'd be so cute if you did too."

I lifted a foot, and once again she'd given me dowdy court shoes to wear: dark blue, low-heeled, and boring. I looked like a secretary from the 60s, a virginal spinster—all work and no sense of humor—who went home every single night to a house full of cats. I was pretty sure no one was going to ask me for a dance tonight.

Maybe that's been her plan all along?

Oswin, looking dashing in a black suit with a narrow tie, had his hand braced on the doorframe. He shot me a sympathetic look behind my aunt's back.

While Aunt Ellena adjusted the boxy jacket to sit better on my smaller frame, I searched her face, looking to see if that thing was present. My stomach twisted in apprehension, but I saw nothing sinister prowling within her dark green eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asked, glancing suddenly upward and frowning as she caught my silent fear before I was able to shutter it away. I nodded, smiling that same smile I'd worn through dressing for this evening, and it ached to keep it in place.

My aunt wore a blue flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and tan slacks. She looked chic and casual and young at heart. Flicking the tail end of her braid over a shoulder, she flipped her wrist around and checked the time on her watch. Her mouth pursed. "Oh dear, I'd better get going. By now the cakes will have cooled and it's going to be a long night helping Markel to frost and decorate the wedding cake." She leaned in to peck me on the temple and I steeled myself, trying not to cringe at her touch. "Be good," she whispered. "Remember who you are and where you are. You've got our good name to protect."

Oswin stepped aside as she left, waving over her shoulder she headed out the door. After her hurried footsteps faded down the dormitory's corridor, Oswin sauntered inside the bedroom, and I heaved a sigh. My entire body drooped in defeat as I stood in front of Marissa, both of us silent. I gave her a look that said I understood what she was thinking, but what else could I do? I was the frump of the party.

Marissa rose in a graceful motion, stepping slowly around my figure in a circle, her high heels muffled by the colorful rug underneath. Her fine features were scrunched with displeasure. "I just knew your Aunt was going to come up with some ridiculous outfit." She lifted a hand, raising a finger. "Give me a moment. We've got ten minutes to set this right before you two need to leave."

Walking over to the bedroom door, she poked her head around the frame. While she did that, I picked up the black sequined clutch from the duchess. I'd earlier slipped the needle and tube, and the sleeping potion into its soft innards. Tonight, after I'd spiked Varen's drink and we'd returned home and he was in a deep, deep, sleep, I'd sneak into his bedroom and steal his blood.

Oswin dug into the pocket of his jacket, producing a hip flask, and wiggled it at me.

Oooo!

He unscrewed the lid and poured a nip into the cap. "Let's get the drinking started now, Best Man."

I shouldn't. I really needed my wits about me tonight, but my fingers had already clasped the metal cap. My nostrils pinched at the smell of tequila. I'd never really drank before and this was crazy alcohol. However, at the same time, I wanted some kind of fortitude against the wrecked nerves I'd endured today. I tossed it back, swallowing the fiery liquid down and breathing out the noxious fumes of tequila. My face twisted at the foul burn lighting up my insides. "Ugh, gross!"

But boy, half a minute later I felt really, really good.

Behind me, I heard several footsteps, and when I turned around I was surprised to see Beckah and Rosa standing on either side of Marissa. Tucked under Rosa's arm was a shiny pink toiletry bag, and Beckah held her make-up bag straining with products.

Marissa strode over to the couch and fished around inside her handbag. With a flourish she whipped out a black velvet skin-hugging dress, and dangling off her fingertips was a pair of stilettos. My eyes bugged at their six-inch height and the rockstar silver studs prettying up the straps across the toes.

Beckah snapped her fingers. "Time to change outfits for the ball, Tabitha."

But guilt washed through me. "I can't," I wailed, kneading the fabric of my boring skirt with my fingers. "My aunt made it for me." Despite it all, I just couldn't. Even though my heart yearned desperately to wear Marissa's dress and those fabulous shoes.

Rosa and Beckah and Marissa shot each other a look before returning their gazes to me. They weren't looking me in the eye, their focus was on my outfit.

Beckah tilted her head, golden highlights shimmering in her brown curls. "I mean we could work with it somehow. Maybe fix it up a little bit."

Rosa framed her hands like a photographer, squinting through the space. "If I had more time, I would cut you a bob."

My eyes widened and I instinctively touched the bun perched on top of my crown and shook my head. No. I was fond of my long hair. It needed a trim, but I wasn't sure about lobbing it all off.

Marissa tossed the dress and shoes onto the couch. She snapped her fingers. "Take the shoes and shirt off, Tabitha, but we'll use the jacket and tie, and turn the skirt into a dress."

Wide-eyed, I looked to Oswin who shrugged and turned his back to give me privacy.

Rosa arched an eyebrow as she twirled a comb around her fingers like a gun-slinger. "I'll put some height into it instead."

"Yes!" I whisper-shouted, fist pumping with enthusiasm.

Oh my gods, yes!

I stood in the center of a flurry of limbs and products, while Marissa quickly fixed up my jacket with safety pins to make the sleeves three-quarter length and give the back of it more shape; Rosa teased and fluffed up my hair, and Beckah treated me like she was an artist painting a canvas.

Ten minutes later they drew back in silence, staring at me in awe.

"It's safe to turn around now, Oswin," Beckah whispered.

Oswin swiveled around to face me. His blue eyes rounded, and the hip flask lowered from his slack mouth. He whistled low. "Shit, Tabitha. Wow." Strolling up, he offered me another hit of tequila and I took a long swig, coughing and gasping at the strong hit of alcohol, slapping my chest as the taste dissipated from my tongue.

Smacking my lips with a woozy grin, warmth sparkled through my blood.

Oswin slung his arm around my shoulders. "Let's go party, Best Man."

I took hold of the sequin clutch Marissa handed me. But before we took a single step, Beckah grabbed me by the upper arm and yanked me closer. She got right up into my face with a fierce crazed gleam in her brown eyes. "I swear to Zrenyth, Tabitha Catt, I will slap you silly if you come back tonight as a kissless virgin. This is your night. No chaperones. One girl surrounded by men. You go out there and kiss as many guys as you can—tongue and everything. Do it for me. Do it for every single girl who's never been kissed. Never gone on a date. Never been allowed to go out and dance at a club! TABITHA CATT, GO WILD!"