My hair took a lot longer to untangle and glitter still shone in the long length but I managed to tame and smooth the locks and work it into an elegant bun high on my head like a crown.

Leaving the bathroom I padded back into my bedroom, unwrapped the damp towel from my figure, and hung it on a hook. Opening up the closet door I pulled out the dress Marissa had given me a few weeks back to wear at the Servants' Dance. It felt decadent whispering against my skin like liquid silk as it fell over my body. I zipped up the side and bent over to slide my feet into the matching high heels and buckle up the delicate straps. Straightening, I caught a glimpse of myself in our tall mirror, startling for a moment at the stranger staring back at me. I looked like I'd been dipped in gold. My hair and sunkissed skin, the dress, were all kinds of gold. It was almost inconceivable how much money the dress cost. I'd never worn anything so expensive in all my life, thousands of dollars, and to a servants' wedding, which possibly would be the only occasion I'd ever get to wear it.

And if anyone asked, as Marissa had suggested, I'd say it was a knock-off.

Moving to the wooden table, I snatched up my notes for the speech I'd prepared to give as Best Man and stuffed them into my sequined purse beside the items still hidden in its shallow depth—the sleeping potion and needle and tube. The door closed quietly behind me with a soft snick as I left my bedroom to head for the gazebo.

The Servants' Quarters were usually fairly quiet this time of day. Lunch had been and gone but today there were more servants about who were off duty and at home getting ready for the wedding. As I headed down the dormitory corridor, my mind churned like a wild sea with all the things still ahead of me to do. Pressure began to build at my temples and worry frayed my nerves, gnawing on at me with insidious fangs.

Too many things were beginning to stack up against me.

The wedding. My aunt. That thing. Varen. Wyrmblood. Skold.

My palms became clammy and fingers slipped against one another as I fisted them by my sides. I drew in a deep fortifying breath, lifting my chin as I tried to get my frazzled nerves under control.

I had faith that I could pull this off.

All I had to do was tackle each problem one at a time.

I had plenty of time to get to the gazebo and wait by Oswin's side until Dolcie arrived with her wedding party.

I'd have my eye on Aunt Ellena, who, after the memory of my mother had been uncovered, left me feeling distrustful of her. She'd be attending the wedding ceremony and reception, and I'd keep a careful watch to ensure that thing didn't show itself.

Tonight I'd be too busy to steal the wyrmblood from Varen, so I'd do it on our date tomorrow night.

As for Skold and the night she'd cast her spell when Cernesse's forerunners wheeled across the sky, it was out of my control. I had no idea where we'd be meeting the witch in the Hemmlok Forest, nor if we could trust—

A voice, angry and slurred, erupted down the Servants' Quarters.

Someone bellowed a name that sent my heart thudding into my throat and knocked the thoughts right out of my head.

"ROMAIN!"

My high heels clattered across the scuffed lino as I pushed into a run, hurrying around the corner to skitter to a halt.

Dread fell through me in a swift, icy stroke.

Sanela stumbled down the main corridor, a hand braced against the wall. "ROMAIN!" Her blotchy cheeks were inflamed with bitter rage. "ROMAIN!"

A few curious servants had been drawn out by the yelling and lingered near the threshold of the common room. They stared wide-eyed at the mental demise of our Matriarch. The dressing gown of white silk, blemished with splattered wine, flapped around her figure as she staggered forward.

Gods, this was going to burn through my world faster than a flashfire.

I rushed toward Sanela, panicking over Dolcie, terrified that Sanela had discovered it was her Romain was having an affair with and this was the reason she'd entered our world to seek her out. Marissa, a ripple of movement and black satin burst through the entrance's twin doors and raced down the corridor. "Momma!"

Marissa arrived just as I skidded to a halt to block Sanela's advance with my presence. A stench of stale alcohol saturated the air and seeped from her sweaty pores. It poured out on Sanela's rank breath as she swiveled drunkenly to face her daughter whose shoulder brushed up against my own.

"Momma, please, we need to go," Marissa urged. She gripped her mother's forearm and darted a glance soaked with embarrassment over her shoulder at the few servants hovering in the background, blatantly staring our way and silently gloating.

Sanela took great pride in her appearance and was always attired in sophistication. I didn't think I'd ever seen her leave her room without being dressed and styled to perfection. Lank, greasy hair swayed around a waxen complexion stripped bare of makeup. Her skin was stretched tight and creased in a murderous rage that raised the hair on the back of my neck and sent a quake of fear along my bones.

"Get off of me," Sanela snapped, yanking her elbow back and trying to wrestle herself free from Marissa.

"He's not here, Momma," Marissa whispered.

"How do you know?" Sanela sneered.

"Because I've already looked," Marissa hissed, tugging roughly at her mother's arm.

Sanela ripped her arm from Marissa's grip. She stumbled backward with the jerky momentum and hit the wall. Scrambling to get her bare feet back under her, she straightened sluggishly to glare at her daughter. "I'm perfectly capable of walking on my own, Marissa." She swayed woozily, blinking dully when her gaze slid to mine. A spark of surprise to see me there brightened glassy, bloodshot eyes. Her wine-stained lips twisted into disdain, flashing discolored teeth of muddied crimson as she leaned down to get right in my face. The madness spinning in her eyes made my skin crawl. "If you see Romain, Tabitha, tell him to go fu—"

"Momma!" Marissa shrieked, white-faced with shock.

Sanela's head lolled back as she burst into shuddering laughter, cruel and cutting like a whip slashing through the air.

"Please, I need your help," Marissa begged me. "I need to get her back home."

"Yes. Of course." I had time to spare.

I was taken aback at how haggard Marissa appeared with black eyeliner smeared beneath her eyes. Frizzy pieces of tawny hair stuck up around her temples as if she'd been dragging her hands across her scalp in frustration. She seemed exhausted, as if...as if she'd gotten little sleep because she'd been dealing with her mother's madness.

Sanela mumbled incoherently as she slumped against Marissa, and I ducked under her other arm. Between the both of us, we managed to walk Sanela from the Servants' Quarters. It was a slow and cumbersome journey up several flights of stairs and down long hallways, with Sanela alternating between muttering curses and weeping, until we arrived at her rooms. The brocade curtains were drawn tight against brilliant sunshine that glowed around its scalloped edges, yet they hadn't kept the warmth of the day at bay and the room was bathed in sticky heat.

It was dim inside. Shadows slunk within its corners and bled outward to crawl along its papered walls to dull the elegant baroque of heathered grays and cream to a dirty tint. The murkiness seemed to gather around Sanela, to caress her figure in forlorn shades of gloom and heartache.

The room was dominated by a big flouncy bed with the ruffles she was currently obsessing over. And like the rest of the mansion, her personal quarters were elegant yet ostentatious with family heirlooms. French artwork hung on the walls, and antique lighting oozed with precious gems.

However, as I crossed the threshold, my eyes rounded and I darted a startled glance at Marissa who couldn't meet my eye. Sanela's bedroom had been reduced to a battlefield of torn clothing and smashed furnishings. Several bottles of wine were opened and mostly empty, cluttering the surface of a low, round table near the window. One bottle had fallen onto its side, and its liquid had spilled onto the cream carpet like blood gushing from a slashed artery.

We edged around broken cane chairs and drawers that had been tipped over. Clothes, thousands of dollars apiece, had been shredded and littered the ground like rubbish. Urns had been flung at the walls to gouge and skew artwork. Pot plants were smashed, their greenery slumped on the cream carpet in a pile of strewn dirt and freed roots.

We eased Sanela down to sit on her bed. She slumped forward on an angry mutter before kneading her head and began to sob softly. Marissa sat beside her, running a hand over her mother's back in comforting circles. "There's a calming potion in her drawer. Can you go fetch it?" Marissa whispered to me.

My high heels squelched across a pool of wine-sodden carpet, and the stench of heady alcohol wavered through the muggy enclosed space as I hurried toward the regal walnut dresser propped against a wall. My eyebrows rose at the priceless jewelry sets that had been snapped in half. Emeralds and sapphires and rubies were spilled over the duchess and floor like a handful of children's marbles tossed into play.

Behind me, I heard Marissa's soothing voice. "It's okay, Momma."

I opened one of the tiny drawers and nestled inside on black velvet was a collection of small vials fashioned from cut crystal. Gods, the tiny diamonds crusting the stoppers could pay my wage for an entire year.

Rifling hastily through the vials, I inspected the small handwritten labels in flourishing black script, trying to find the sedative. Hunting and searching, the sound of chink-chink-chink as the bottles wobbled against one another in my manic state to find the right potion.

My breath caught—

And my fingers pinched firmer around a half-full teardrop vial. I raised it upward, the gloomy light spinning through its color of pale yellow like tree sap.

My heart beat a rapturous rhythm. It was a contraceptive tonic from House Simonis, and with a small mouthful, whoever consumed the tonic would be fully protected from pregnancy for a month. As I would too if I dared to steal a sip. The price of purchasing these tonics was extremely high, a cost that only the upper ranks could afford.

Gnawing on my bottom lip, I darted a furtive glance over my shoulder to where Marissa sat beside her mother, wiping away her tears before gently tucking a limp piece of brown hair behind an ear.

My fingers tightened around the vial and I allowed my mind to race ahead as quickly as my heartbeat, hope spinning through my bloodstream like spindrift.

The curse would be broken within a week when the witch Skold untangled my aunt from that thing with a dark spell.

I'd have my life back.

We'd both have our lives back.

I could get rid of the traps and snares and the krekenns, and actually, sleep to a decent hour in the morning. I'd have so much more time to myself for gardening and adventuring and Varen too.

I wasn't sure if I was ready to have sex, but I wondered when I might be. Things were physically heating up between us faster than I'd ever anticipated when I'd innocently daydreamed of my very own boyfriend, and I knew with certainty I wanted Varen to be my first.

I was a thief.

An opportunist.

And an opportunity had presented itself.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I unstoppered the vial and lifted it to my mouth, letting the sharp-tasting liquid splash across my tongue before swallowing it down.

"Tabitha?"

I almost screamed in fright and subsequently choked on the tonic slipping down my throat.

Oh my gods!

I hadn't heard Marissa's silent approach.

I sputtered and thumped my heaving chest, drawing in a ragged breath. Heat burned my cheeks when I slid a guilty glance sideways. Marissa stood next to me, staring at the contraceptive tonic in my hand, her tired eyes wide with incredulity. Dark eyebrows knitted together in perplexion as she turned a narrowed gaze toward me, but mine flitted away before she could meet it.

Quickly stoppering the vial with trembling fingers, I put it away. I fussed about trying to find the calming potion but my nerves were so tattered I wasn't even reading the labels properly. Marissa leaned over and found the right one, plucking it from the collection of small bottles. I could feel her curiosity, the air thick with questions, but perhaps the drama with her mother stayed her tongue because she remained silent.

When I finally had the guts to look my friend in the eye, my stomach lurched at the weariness smudged beneath her eyes and the stress that clenched her jaw. I placed a hand over hers. "Are you alright?"

"Not really." Misery deepened her sigh as she squeezed my fingers back. "It's been so draining. I need a break from playing her babysitter." She glanced over her shoulder toward her mother, and her entire body tensed. Sanela had risen from the bed and was pouring herself another wine. Scarlet liquid splashed all over the table when she swayed and missed the glass.

"It's the loss of face for her in front of the other Houses. She's convinced the upper ranks know my father's mistress is a servant and are laughing behind her back." Marissa chewed the word servant with such distaste and it both rankled and wounded me.

The insult against my world, my position as a servant, was a rusty, blunt blade stabbing between my rib bones. I don't even know why Marissa bothered with our friendship if she felt the same way as her mother.

Carefully shutting the tiny drawer, I tried to soothe the irate hurt twisting inside.

A sharp crack behind us had my attention swinging wide.

Sanela had pushed off from the table so violently that its curved lip had rocked up against the wall. Shoving a hand through her untidy hair, she weaved across the room toward us.

My eyes narrowed as a new line of thought tumbled through my mind. Sanela was a Zaman. Maybe this hostility toward servants ran deeper than our two worlds colliding. Maybe she carried this deep resentment with her, because from what Joann had shared with me, what I'd inferred from her warning, was that Sanela's father had an affair with a servant that resulted in a son—Ammar. And now history was repeating itself all over again.