Chef Markel leaned his bulky shoulder against the doorframe, his imposing size swallowing the space. He was wearing a light beige suit, the jacket unbuttoned and one hand tucked inside the pocket of his pants. The crisp white dress shirt was unbuttoned and contrasted against his dark skin. There was a flash of white teeth as he smiled warmly at my aunt.

"Lovely," he said to my aunt.

"You look good too, Markel," Aunt Ellena replied, her cheeks flushing as she touched a self-conscious hand to her temple, smoothing back her hair.

"You know you're not supposed to be down here, in the female dorms, right?" I said to Markel to tease him, but also to take his attention off my aunt who needed a moment to compose herself at his sudden appearance and his obvious attention.

"What are they going to do, fire me?"

"Maybe," Marissa answered airily. And then burst into laughter at the faux-shocked face he shot her, his hand spread across his chest.

He pushed off the doorframe. "Just checking to see what's keeping you ladies, and to see," he said, sliding his eyes toward Aunt Ellena, "if you needed an escort to the dance."

A smile began on my Aunt's face, shy at first, then widened with delight and the color staining her cheeks deepened.

My eyes widened and my heart swelled to see my aunt a little off-kilter and obviously pleased.

She dipped her head. "Very much so, Markel."

As I moved past her, I whispered, "Is he the reason you're so adamant on going out tonight?"

She shushed me, but her eyes sparkled and her smile grew broader.

Markel offered her his arm and she linked hers with his while behind their backs, Marissa and I shared a look of—What the hells? But this is so freaking exciting!

We followed, trailing behind Markel and my aunt at a polite distance, down the empty hallways of the Servant's quarters, our heels noisily clattering along the long narrow length.

As we crossed the open doorway of the Servants' Hall, I spotted Joann, sitting on a chair in front of the open French doors looking out at the back lawns, with her feet on a table, ankles crossed, smoking a cigarillo. Clouded silver streamed from her mouth as she puffed away. She wasn't interested in the dance. Too many people—she'd grumbled to me earlier. She saw me wave at her and lifted her hand holding her cigarillo in reply.

While I was intrigued by the smiles my aunt was giving Markel and the laughter he enticed from her, I slowly began to notice the change that had occurred in my friend. The way Marissa was glancing about the empty hallways of the Servants Quarters with sharp blue eyes, her quietness, and the tension in her body.

"What's wrong?"

She jolted, her gaze snapping back to mine. "Nothing."

"Liar," I replied, digging an elbow into her ribs, making her shy away with a cry of protest. I knew her. I knew something was worrying her.

She sighed, her pace slowing down as she looked down at her feet now crossing marble as we left the Servant's Quarters behind. "It's just my parents."

A little bit of guilt gnawed at me. I'd heard the rumors circulating that one of her parents might not be faithful.

"They've been so frosty toward one another. I mean, they've never had the best relationship...but it's gotten worse of late."

She glanced behind her at the twin doorways, currently hanging open, that were the threshold to where we servants resided, and I wondered if something else, other than me, had drawn her down this part of the house. And a terrible thought took root...that maybe Marissa suspected one of her parents was having an affair with a servant.

Before the thought could be examined Marissa suddenly brightened with a fake smile. She pulled me to a stop. Laughter and loud clashing conversation and the raucous sounds of a party in full swing could be heard coming from the Banquet Hall nearby.

"Right, I'd better attend to my guests and keep out of Laurena's way," she said as if steeling herself for her role as hostess. The teardrop diamonds in her earlobes glittered as she gave a furtive look over her shoulder to make sure we were alone, before meeting my gaze.

A serious note shone in her teal-blue eyes as she stared at me, fiercely. Her fingers wrapped around mine and she tugged hard, ensuring that what she was about to say, I knew I needed to listen to. Her voice was low and urgent as she leaned in to whisper. "Master Sirro will be arriving any time now." Both Marissa and my aunt knew what I was and kept my secret hidden. "When he presents himself, keep near the back so he won't sense you."

With everything going on, I'd barely given any thought to a Horned God attending the dance.

"I'll be fine," I whispered back, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Right now, with everything I planned to do tonight, the least of my worries was a Horned God. Which was the freaking craziest thing to think.

But it still didn't stop the icy shiver from crawling down my spine like a slinking spider.

Or the anxiety, a stifling, choking thing, from wrapping itself around me.

If Master Sirro should catch me, or if I gave him the slightest reason to suspect I was other, my aunt would be outright slaughtered for harboring me.

And from what I'd overheard Laurena and Byron discuss this afternoon, with the new directive for the Houses to hunt others, the Horned Gods would want to get their claws on me—for what purpose, not even Great House Wychthorn knew.

Marissa kissed my cheek before departing and I continued to follow Aunt Ellena and Chef Markel at a polite distance as they made their way down the wide hallway toward the Banquet Hall. The gilded double doors were cast open and the sound of our exuberant guests rolled down the hallway, growing louder as we approached. It was a swell of clashing voices and riotous laughter, a boisterous chorus, yet the feel of the discordant symphony was a merry melody.

Markel leaned closer to my aunt, bowing his head slightly as she spoke softly to him. He unwound his arm from hers and strode closer to the Banquet Hall to allow us a private moment. My aunt turned to face me as I caught up with her.

Her dress, in a different style to mine, was similar in its modest cut. She'd worn it to the last dance...and a wretched feeling sank to the bottom of my stomach at how loosely it hung from her thin frame. Yet, there was such life in the depth of her eyes and color enriching her complexion. It buoyed my spirits. The dress was a deep green—like the undergrowth in the ancient forest I stalked through every morning, a hunting knife gripped in my hand—and matched her eyes perfectly. Eyes that sparkled.

And I knew why—Markel.

I fought the desire to grin widely.

But right now, those eyes shifted focus and were fixed on me with serious intent.

I braced myself for the same conversation we'd had every single dance. I knew she was always worried about a 'boy turning my head and getting me into trouble' as she'd phrased it in the past. Though this was a joyous occasion—the younger children's excitement overspilling and infusing our own—where family members who served other Houses were able to get together and catch up, we all knew what tonight was really about. Tonight was a singles night for servants such as myself—young men and women who were unattached and single.

Over my Aunt's shoulder, I snatched a glance through the open doorway of the Banquet Hall. My gaze roamed over the wall of flowing bodies gathered around the buffet tables. All the Deniauds' silver cutlery, bone-china plates, crystal glasses, and antique furniture had been set aside for safekeeping in other rooms. Long-running tables had been brought in with crisp white linen, which Chef and his team set up all the dishes they'd earlier prepared on. The smell of spit-roasted meat and vegetables coated in butter and herbs wafted down the hallway. My stomach grumbled—I was hungry, but I was also too nervous and excited to eat. And I was too busy looking for someone with frost-tipped blond hair.

"Are you looking for someone?" my aunt asked. My guilty gaze snapped back to hers. She was giving me a sharp look.

I suppressed the urge to swallow, and instead smiled innocently. "No."

She squinted at me, scanning my face as if she wasn't sure she believed me.

But, for once, I had an excellent poker face.

Her exhaustion at night kept her in a deep sleep, so she hadn't caught me sneaking back into my bedroom after drinking and dancing in the Servants Hall, celebrating turning twenty-one last weekend. If she had, I was positive she would have scolded me severely about my reputation. But even the hypothetical dressing down would have done nothing to guilt-trip me about the maybe-kiss I'd shared with Tomas.

Who was somewhere here, waiting for me.

Aunt Ellena relaxed, cupping my face with cold fingers. "I'm proud of you, Tab—" she tripped a bit over my name, "—itha, and the young woman you've grown up into." She squeezed her eyes shut, her lips rolling inward for a moment as she composed herself, before saying quietly, the words thick with emotion. "And your mother would be too."

I didn't know why I wasn't feeling something deeper at those words, but I was at a loss to connect myself with someone I only knew through photographs and second-hand memories. I was left with an abstract feeling of guilt, as if Aunt Ellena felt she should say something because she expected I'd want to hear it. But because she was emotional, that's what made my throat clench and my nose tingle with the threat of oncoming tears.

Aunt Ellena opened her eyes. Her lashes glittered with a touch of moisture, and she tapped the tip of my nose gently. "Just remember who you are—"

"And where you are," I finished for her, unable to stop myself from making a gah sound. It was the same warning she always left me with on every single occasion where there were boys—a reminder of the reputation I was to uphold as a young woman.

She made a scoffing noise at me, but she was smiling in a self-conscious way, as if she knew she was overbearing but couldn't help herself. "I know that tonight you could very well meet a boy you like, want more with..." she began, and I smiled and tried to make it look genuine, as wrongfulness at my impending deceit nibbled away at the excitement at what I later intended to do. Kiss Tomas...a lot! Something Aunt Ellena would never approve of, and no doubt was about to warn me off doing.

She tilted her head. The glow from the light in a sconce behind her backlit her figure and brightened her dark blonde hair swept into a loose bun. Her expression softened as she brushed her hands gently over my shoulders, back and forth, down my upper arms. And then—

She froze.

And remained as still as death.

An icy feeling slithered down my spine as the lighting down the hallway flickered and crackled. And her breath washed over my face tainted with a reek of decay and wrongfulness.

My eyes widened as her nostrils flared—

Her hands gripped hard—

I gasped, yanking back at the sting of sharp fingernails digging through the dress to bite my skin. But her hold was too tight to free myself.

Aunt Ellena curved her head to the side in a snake-like movement. Her eyes were wide and unblinking as she stared dead ahead. Not through the open doors of the Banquet Hall, but down the long, wide hallway that led deeper into the house. Dread suffocated me as I watched the pupils shrink to almost pinpricks.

A jerk of her head.

A crack of her neck bones.

"Aunt Ellena?" I whispered. Her grip tightened like a vice squeezing my bones. I gritted my teeth, refusing to cry out in pain. "Aunt Ellena," I hissed a little louder.

A heartbeat later she blinked rapidly.

A sound of startlement left her throat. Her focus sharpened and swung back to mine, drowning in confusion. "Tabitha?" Her normally soft and sweet voice was low and raspy as if she'd been screaming.

Seeing her hands clawed around my arms, she recoiled in alarm and instantly freed me. "What happened? Did I hurt you?"

I forced myself not to step back when everything in me was screaming to run away. I crossed my arms and rubbed the pain away from either shoulder. "I'm fine, really, I'm fine," I reassured her.

Horrified, she stared down at her work-roughened hands, gently flexing the knobbled knuckles. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

I studied her face as my thunderous heartbeat, drumming in my ears, slowed down. The fine lines in her face were carved deeper and ravaged with guilt and fear. Was she okay? What had just happened to bring that thing out...not all the way, but just a sliver, like a peek through a thin slit of parted curtains? Not enough to see all of it, but it was there all the same, staring through my aunt's eyes.

"I just...I just..." she said, her voice thin and reedlike, and her bottom lip quivering.

"Just a moment...that's all it was..." I lied.

"Sometimes, I don't know where I go," she whispered, kneading her hands. Such darkness and pain and a sense of loss filled her eyes.

That thing had been staring down the hallway that forked and led to the entrance of the mansion, the other to the Great Hall where the Deniauds greeted their guests.

Aunt Ellena dropped her head and rubbed her forehead, creasing the knuckles in her fingers white. Her shoulders fell. "I should...maybe I should go back to our room."

I stole a swift glance at Markel. He was standing near the open doors of the Banquet Hall talking with several of his staff. He ran a hand over his cropped hair as he huffed a gruff laugh at something one of his companions had said. His brown eyes darted over his broad shoulder at my aunt, and there was such longing in them my heart squeezed.

My aunt didn't deserve one night of happiness, she was owed a lifetime of happiness.

"No," I replied firmly. And before I could wonder what to say, I let the lies unspool from my open mouth unheeded. "You're tired from the hecticness of the day, that's all it was. You can go to bed and sleep, if that's what you want to do, or you can go and enjoy Chef's company. Even for just an hour or two before retiring." I took her hand in my own, trying not to wince at how cold they felt, how wrong the bones felt. She was fading away right in front of me, slowly, day by day. I rubbed her fingers gently, willing the warmth of my hands to infuse hers. "We don't get to celebrate often. And there's bound to be lots of friends from other Houses you'll want to catch up with. Besides," I said, letting my gaze pointedly wander to Markel. Aunt Ellena followed my line of sight. "He'll be terribly disappointed."

She chewed on her bottom lip. "He wouldn't—"

"He would."

Our gazes met and I knew I'd won her over as distress fell away and acceptance flowed through her features. She straightened her posture, tipped her chin up and her eyes got that motherly glint of steel in them. "Go. Enjoy yourself. But not too much," she quickly added. "Don't let a boy turn your head."

"You either, Aunt Ellena," I smartly replied, wagging my eyebrows.

She batted my arm good-naturedly. "Be in bed before midnight."

I leaned in with a wide grin. "Likewise."

Markel had stopped talking to his friends and had turned fully to face Aunt Ellena, waiting patiently for her to join him. I watched Aunt Ellena carefully. She still looked a little out of sorts, and then Markel whispered something to her that sent her off-kilter in a different way. She smiled that embarrassed, pleased smile of hers again as she glanced downward, fiddling with the skirt of her dress, smoothing it down with a palm as color bloomed on her cheeks.

Both of them wandered off, and I thought about what that brief moment had been. It had seemed to have been drawn out...not by me but by something else.

The moon would be full tomorrow night, and much needed to be done before then. As selfish as this was, I wanted to join the dance and not have to worry about my aunt, about what could possibly go wrong later tonight.

It was just a couple of hours before she'd head to bed.

Just a couple of hours before I became a thief.

I shoved the worry and guilt aside. Both of us needed to just have one night to enjoy ourselves.