I leaned over the waterbed and tucked the blankets carefully around Varen's shoulders. His lips were parted slightly, thick eyelashes a crescent of black against his golden skin. Repose softened his features. He looked younger and sweet if that could be said of someone so clearly masculine. I pushed the wayward hair to the side of his forehead, my fingertips lingering on his temple. His wavy locks were more disheveled than he usually liked. He preferred the savage refinery of bespoke suits and smoothed-back hair. But I liked him this way, a reminder of the ruffian I first kissed when his beard had tickled my cheeks and my fingers had sifted through his shaggy hair.

Turning away, I scooped up my evening gown and held it over my head to let silk flutter down my figure. I zipped up the side, fixed the belt, and adjusted the pleated bodice before gathering up my high heels. The hairpins were swept into my sequinned clutch from the low table beside the chaise, before I tip-toed over to the window, avoiding the debris of broken swans littering the shag carpet. I quietly closed the curtains so Varen would have a good night's sleep.

Silently moving out of the bedroom, I shut the door behind me with one last look at Varen, listening to the rhythm of his breathing, letting my gaze drift over the blankets molded to his broad chest and the strong arms that had held me as I'd unraveled beneath him. He might be leaving the Deniauds tomorrow and unable to meet me at the old oak tree before he left due to the sleeping potion, but I'd see him the day after. He'd find a way back to me.

The hallway was quiet as a burial ground. A little spooky too with the lighting dimmer in this part of the mansion with the guest bedrooms that were subpar compared to the elegant rooms we'd hosted the Wychthorns within during the Servants' Dance. I turned around and leaned my back against the bedroom door, trying to calm all the wild, turbulent emotions running riot inside and tingling my flesh. A new scent tainted my skin, a mixture of anise and rose—us. My teeth clamped down on a smile I couldn't contain and it broke free. My entire body hummed with this thrilling new thing that was me. I was no longer the Uptight Spinster. I had a boyfriend. And I certainly wasn't Tabitha Catt the virgin. I was Tabitha Catt the sex goddess.

Freaking hells yes!

I was still whirling with the shock of it all. My body and mind constantly pulled apart every second, every touch, every exquisite reaction, cataloging the experience, and I knew I was going to replay the last hour over and over in my head. However, right now, I needed to either head back to my bedroom for the night or sneak back into the wedding reception. Though it was very late, I knew the reception would still be going on. We loved celebrating weddings, mostly because it came with drinking and dancing and a day off work to recover, so we always made the most of every occasion.

The strappy high heels dangled from my fingertips, and in my other hand was my sequinned clutch. My fingers tightened around it and I sucked in a deep breath. A sense of intense relief and wonderment invaded every single inch of my body. Muscles I hadn't known were knotted immediately loosened and relaxed.

Inside the clutch was the precious vial of wyrmblood. I finally had the last piece I needed for Skold's spell to save my aunt. Everything was going to be alright.

The biggest grin widened my face, and warmth swelled in my heart, sharing space with Varen. I felt re-energized. I felt like I could rejoin the wedding party and dance until honeyed light spilled over the horizon to herald the dawn.

Transferring the clutch to my other hand, I twisted sideways to use the door as support. I angled my upper body to the right, my bed-tumbled hair swaying in a tangled sheet as I bent a knee back, my mind busily calculating how to refix my hair and reapply my makeup so no one knew what I'd been up to with Varen. Though I knew deep down it truly wasn't, I was ecstatic with the idea that I was about to take a walk of shame.

Something else I could tick off my list.

I went to slide a high heel over my toes when I heard a distinctive sound.

A door swished open.

Footsteps.

Whispering.

My stomach lurched and my broad smile slipped from my mouth.

Fright skated through my veins and set my heart to thud in my chest. My gaze snapped up and I watched two figures exiting a bedroom near the end of the hallway. White satin, silk, and lace elegantly swathed a feminine figure, while the male's suit seemed rumpled, the very top buttons of his white shirt undone, the crimson silk tie unknotted and draping loosely around his neck.

To my horror, I found myself staring at Dolcie and Romain.

Dolcie stumbled to a halt in the middle of the hallway, staring back at me wide-eyed. All the color that had flushed her cheeks drained away, leaving her complexion ashen.

Utter shock crashed against my ribcage.

Hurt painfully ripped my heart into tattered shreds.

I couldn't grasp what I was witnessing. Dolcie had snuck away from her own wedding reception to be with Romain, only hours after she'd spoken her vows to my best friend and committed herself to him. The disgust of it all had bitterness churning in my gut.

Romain shut the guest bedroom door and stepped flush to Dolcie's side. Guilt dulled her eyes as she beheld mine burning with fury, while he looked merely frustrated, his winged mustache twitching with irritation at my presence.

Dolcie kneaded her hands anxiously before they drifted apart and reached toward me as if she were desperate to explain herself.

Enough!

Freaking enough!

Venomous anger reforged my shredded heart, stitching it back together with threads of fiery righteousness. My dark magic bristled, hunkering low to loosen a vicious growl. It vibrated beneath my flesh, reverberating along my bones.

I slapped the clutch against my thigh. Dolcie and Romain were going to hear what I had to say. I didn't care that I was a servant and Romain was one of the upper ranks, the Head of this House, and had full authority over my life. Wrath slashed a white-hot path through my veins as I stormed down the hallway. My fingers clenched into fists around the strappy shoes and clutch, the long skirt of my dress kicking around my stomping feet. My messy hair flailed around my shoulders and wisped behind me with my quick pace.

Romain whispered something to Dolcie, and she hurried away with a swift, remorseful glance over her shoulder.

"Don't you freaking dare walk away from me!" I pointed at her with the hand holding the clutch. "You're married... Married!"

"I'll handle this," Romain gritted out to Dolcie.

Romain advanced, his expression as determined as mine, and blocked me from getting to Dolcie. I tried to dodge him, but he only shifted his figure to match mine. "You married my best friend!" I yelled around Romain's weaving body. "And you're cheating on him?!"

"Tabitha," Romain hissed, lurching for me.

He snatched hold of my wrist, and I struggled vainly to set myself free. I was a twisting, spitting, feral alley cat, tugging and yanking and shrieking with fury.

Romain snarled into my face, "Quiet. Calm down." He shoved me up against the wall, knocking the air from my lungs. My spine thumped heavily upon the solid surface, and the tremor rocked the nearby artwork. Romain boxed me in, pinning me between two French side tables cluttered with antiques, and placing his body right in front of my own.

I whipped my gaze sideways and scowled at Dolcie, who had reached the end of the hallway. She opened up a door hidden in the wall's paneling and disappeared into a servants' shortcut, but she hesitated in closing the door behind her. She clasped the inner door handle and stared back at us with big, round eyes and a mouth tremulous with deep shame.

"Tabitha, you will keep your tongue silent on this matter," I heard Romain gruffly warn me.

My gaze sliced back to his. This close up I could see the pink lipstick smeared across his bristled cheek. I ripped my wrist free from his grip. My voice rose to a shrill and I stamped a foot. "You're both married. And not to one another!"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed wearily, vexed at my simple argument. His hand fell away to his hip, shoulders stiffening as his gaze cut along his shoulder and sharpened on the bedroom door I'd come out from. One bushy eyebrow curved upward with curiosity. I followed his pointed stare and icy dread slithered across my skin.

Romain knew Varen was accommodated in that bedroom.

He swiveled his narrowed gaze back to mine and studied me intently. I swallowed, my mouth dry and tongue raspy, yet I refused to be the one to break the stare, to even blink. His smooth fingers threaded into the ends of my messy hair and he pinched the tip of a golden strand. "I expect you're not as innocent in all of this as you're making out. Perhaps you might understand Dolcie and I after all."

Unease trembled down my spine.

Though Varen wasn't married or engaged, he was one of the upper ranks.

"All it would take is a word from me to Varen's parents," Romain threatened softly, cocking his head. Shadows deepened the cleft in his chin and swept over the gray stands at his temple. "Do you think they'd approve of their son's dalliance with a servant?"

I tipped up my chin with defiance.

It was more than a dalliance.

I was in love with Varen.

Romain continued, coldness dusting his tone. "He's their heir. And though we mostly turn a blind eye to affairs within the upper ranks, it's not quite the same case when it comes to one with a servant."

All the muscles in my body scrunched tight with the way he made it seem so uncouth. Sanela, I knew, suspected her husband was romantically entangled with a servant and abhorred the very idea of it. Fear oozed out of my pores and soured my mouth. In her youth, Sanela had done something about her father's secret marriage to a servant, and I was worried that she'd go one step further if she discovered Dolcie was carrying Romain's unborn child.

"Obviously, I don't agree with that." I blinked in surprise at how much softer Romain's voice had become, at the warmth in his blue eyes, the yearning tempering it when he met Dolcie's gaze. Darkness seeped around her figure concealed with the servants' shortcut and caressed the returned longing feathering her bright eyes.

Romain reminded me of how Varen sometimes looked at me.

My anger faltered when I realized that perhaps the unkempt state of Romain's attire wasn't because of a tryst. I considered the weariness lining his face and scruffed jawline. Even his winged mustache wasn't perfectly smooth. He was always distinguished-looking in finely cut suits. Right now, rumpled and tired, he looked like his heart had been torn out of his chest. Maybe he'd been wallowing in heartbreak while the wedding was going on.

Romain cleared his throat. He swung his gaze reluctantly from Dolcie, back to me. His posture relaxed somewhat and a bit of that fatigue bled away from his expression. He smiled and this time it was genuine and steeped with apology. "You servants have a world entrenched in strict moral conduct, but for the most part, you do get a choice in who you marry. My world in the upper ranks doesn't allow for it. Our parents choose our wives or husbands for the benefit of our House. As my parents did for me—"

"Like you'll do with Marissa?" I interrupted.

He nodded, his mouth a firm line. "I know she's keen on Aldert Pelan—"

"He's not right." The man scared me to my very bones. There was something wrong about him, depraved even from what I'd witnessed on the bloodied battlefield that the Servants' Dance had become. Marissa still had rose-tinted glasses on in regard to Aldert and I was terrified for her. I'd held a slender spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, her head might be turned by someone with a kindness about him, much like Forrestor Lyon possessed.

"I agree. There is something dark and twisted inside that man," murmured Romain, a note of iron in his tone.

I breathed a sigh of relief, sagging against the wall, that in this, we agreed. Until Romain continued and anxiety tightened its hold once more. "A union with the Pelans would be the right move to make, and Sanela is being swayed with the shift in alliances," he waved his hand as if mentally reaching for the right words, "with this experiment Aldert is working on for Master Sirro."

Gods, for Marissa's sake, no, please no.

He ran the tips of two fingers across his mustache, a contemplative expression playing on his features. "But I am a loyalist. Aiming for the Great House would be more advantageous for our family. A marriage between Marissa and Byron would move us into the position of an Upper House."

"Even if she isn't particularly keen on Byron?" I rasped, the corners of my mouth pulling downward.

He returned a small, sad smile and dipped his head, yes.

The smooth tips of his fingers curled beneath my chin and he tilted my face gently toward his. He was so close his breath skated across my lips. "And that's why if you're lucky enough to cross paths with happiness, if someone brings you joy, no matter their rank, you grab hold of them with both hands," he said softly.

My eyelashes fluttered shut. He was right. So right.

Love was glorious. But it could also be lonely and cruel if you couldn't share it with the one person who deserved your gift in its entirety. Especially in our world where we were born with our rank's expectations already stamped across our hearts.

I opened my eyes and parted my lips to reply to Romain, to say though I understood, it wasn't fair on Oswin, it wasn't right that he knew nothing of his relationship with Dolcie, when a commotion broke the silence of the hallway.

A clattering of footsteps.

Heaving, angry breath.

A strangled sound, almost like an enraged animal

Romain's fingertips were still pinched beneath my chin when someone rammed their shoulder into him. He stumbled sideways, lost his footing, and went down with a crashing thud. His arm swung wide and knocked into a wooden side table, tipping it over. And a shower of antique figurines smashed upon the floor, pieces of porcelain and clay clattered and rolled across the wood.

I gasped as a hand clamped on my shoulder and was forcefully yanked around.

I came face to face with Sanela Deniaud.

She was much like she'd been when I'd left her earlier this afternoon. She looked like a wreck in her dressing robe stained with splotches of wine. Greasy lank hair wavered around bloodshot eyes, but this time there was an unhinged glint in their depth. Murderous rage. My nose prickled with her stinky breath, reeking of fresh alcohol. "Tabitha?" she hissed. Her eyebrows shoved together as her gaze bounced around my face. Astonishment and fury collided against one another with a mighty rupture of emotion. "TABITHA!"

I was dumbstruck, unable to give life to my voice, to even twitch a single finger.

Sanela's arm jerked backward and she struck out fast. "You little bitch!"

My head whipped to the side, strands of hair flaring wide. Pain exploded over my cheek from the savage slap. My ears rang with the cruel sound of her palm cracking my flesh.

I cradled my hot, throbbing cheek with a trembling hand.

Shock rendered me speechless.