Morning of the Gala
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the Sapphire dress Dmitri had sent. Someone had delivered it an hour earlier. It was already my size. It fit perfectly, like he'd planned every detail.
A soft knock rattled on my door. My heart jumped. I rushed to open it, already expecting Dmitri on the other side. But when I pulled the door open, I froze.
It was Emmeline.
She looked terrible. Her eyes were puffy, and she was gripping a silk bag so tightly her knuckles were pale. She didn't even wait for me to say anything, she started apologizing in a rush.
"I'm so sorry, Isabelle. About the cafeteria. About what I said about your mother." Her voice shook. "It's all Arabella's doing. She made me do it. She's... she's horrible. I couldn't sleep properly after that day. I couldn't live with it."
I wanted to slam the door in her face. My skin still felt gross from the last time I'd seen her. But she looked so pathetic.
"Why are you here, Emmeline?"
"To fix it. Or at least try." She reached into the bag and pulled out two identical masks. They were made of thin gold wire, delicate and carefully shaped, wrapping around the head and resting over the mouth.
"It's part of the theme," she whispered, handing one to me. The metal felt heavier than it looked. Cold against my fingers. Arabella is going as a hawk. She keeps saying she wants to hunt the 'outsiders'. But if we all wear these, the girls who are tired of her, she can't pick you out. We'll look the same."
I studied the mask. For a second, I heard the mysterious woman's voice again.
"A muzzle".
But she didn't sound like Emmeline. Maybe I was overthinking.
"You're wearing one too?" I asked.
She pulled the second one over her face. It snapped shut with a tiny, soft click. Behind the gold wires, her eyes looked watery. "See? We're the same. I'll be right there with you. She won't touch you tonight. I promise."
I felt a lump in my throat. I'd spent so long being the "rat" that I'd forgotten what it felt like to have someone offer a hand.
"Thank you," I said. My voice was thick.
She hugged me, a quick, nervous squeeze and then she was out the door.
I sat there for a long time, holding the mask. Eventually, I put it on.
The wire was freezing against my jaw. I adjusted the straps. Then I reached for the front piece. It swung shut and locked into place at my hinges.
I tried to say something. Nothing came out but a muffled grunt. My jaw was pinned shut. I tried to pull it open with my fingers, but there was no latch. No way to open it.
I ran to the mirror.
I looked like a prisoner. The wires dug into my skin, forcing my lips into a flat, silent line. I looked like a dog that had been silenced so it wouldn't bark at the guests.
My heart started pounding. I grabbed the sides of the mask, yanking at it until my scalp burned. It didn't budge. I looked at the silk bag Emmeline had left. Tucked in the bottom was a tiny, gold-embossed card.
A lark is only useful when it's quiet. Enjoy the party, Althea.
That was when it dawned on me. Emmeline. The tears. The apology.
All fake.
She's related to that woman.
The betrayal hit me harder than the metal. I'd let her in. I'd actually believed the tears. I looked at my reflection, the muzzled, pathetic "scholarship girl" and I felt a hot, oily wave of shame. I felt like a fool.
Dmitri mustn't see me like this. I can't let him see me like this. I'd look like a fool. Like all the training and lessons were a waste of time.
I grabbed a box opener from my pencil case and started digging into wires, carefully cutting the sides that wouldn't leave an obvious cut on my face . It took forever, my hands shaking the whole time.
Finally, it came loose.
I pulled it off and dropped it on the floor.
"That crazy bitch," I muttered under my breath.
The Gala
Thankfully the cut on my face wasn't deep. Most were hidden under my hair. A little ointment and concealer covered the rest.
By the time I finished getting ready, the sapphire dress felt heavy on my shoulders.
The silver fox mask Dmitri had given me glittered under the light.
"You look like a revolution," a voice said.
Dmitri was leaning against the doorway. He was in all black, wearing a polished onyx visor. Only his mouth was visible, that same sharp, confident smile.
I tried to smile back, hoping he wouldn't notice the lingering pain in my eyes.
He walked over, smelling like sandalwood. His gloved fingers brushed the embroidery over my chest, almost like he was checking something.
"You're a Valois," he said. His voice was low. "Tonight, remind them why people used to be afraid of that name."
He offered his arm. We walked together toward the Grand Hall.
The moment we hit the staircase, the music actually stuttered. Heads turned. All those masks staring up at us. Dmitri's arm was firm beneath my hand, steady. He was looking at the north door.
Julien was there. No mask. He looked pale, like a ghost. The way he looked at me... it hurt.
"He came to see you," Dmitri muttered. His fingers dug into my wrist. Just enough to let me know he was pissed. "He must have shown you the papers. Probably offered you to run away with him. So typical."
"I don't know what you are talking about," I said through the mask.
Dmitri leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. "Julien sells escape. I sell winning. And the truth is, you're here. With me."
We reached the bottom of the stairs just as a woman approached us. She looked exactly like Emmeline but older and colder.
"Good Evening, Lady Schuyler," Dmitri said smoothly.
"Wonderful evening to you, Viktor's Boy," She replied, not even making eye contact with him.
That was when it hit me. The voice. It sounds exactly like the one at the Music Hall. This must be Emmeline's mother. That was when it hit me. I tightened my grip around Dmitri's arm.
"You must be Isabelle," she purred. "I've heard so much about you… from my daughter, Emmeline." Her gaze flickered to my mask. For just a moment, something angry flashed in her eyes. Her plan had failed.
"I'm looking forward to your performance tonight," she added. "Everyone is curious about the scholarship girl of St. Aurelia."
I stepped forward slightly. "Lovely evening to you too, Lady Schuyler," I said, my voice steady behind the mask, "I will do my best to leave you satisfied tonight."
She smiled, her eyes so full of spite.
Dmitri let out a dark little huff that was almost a laugh.
"The first dance is mine," he said. He grabbed my waist and dragged me into the crowd.
The room was a blur. He moved me like we'd practiced for a hundred years. His thumb found the bare skin above my glove.
"What did he say, Isabelle?" Dmitri asked. "What lie did the Golden Boy tell you to try and steal what's mine?"
"What… lie? He didn't lie about anything, Dmitri." He dipped me, my hair hitting the floor, then yanked me back up so we collided.
I saw it in his eyes, pure, nasty jealousy. He hated that Julien had touched the plan. He hated that anyone else had a claim on me.
"He told me the truth you were hiding."
"He thinks he's saving you," Dmitri said. I saw security escorting Julien out the back. He was fighting them. My heart felt like it was being poked with a needle. "But all he did was make sure I stop being nice."
The music ended. He didn't let go. He hauled me through the French doors into the freezing garden. He pushed me against a stone wall, the cold soaking through my dress.
"Say it," he barked. "What are you thinking?"
"You lied," I said quietly. "You didn't bring me here for me. You brought me here to clean up your father's mess. I'm a transaction. A way to get him to like you."
He grabbed my wrist and slammed my hand against his chest. His heart was pounding.
"My father wants obedience, not me," he hissed. He was losing his cool. "He wants you gone. A line in a book."
"And you?" I whispered. "What am I to you? A project? A rat you can put a crown on?"
His jaw tightened. He shoved his hand into my hair, holding my head still. "I see the only real thing in this whole lying school! You think I spent those nights in that freezing shed for him? You think I'm risking my neck for a business deal?"
He leaned his forehead against mine, mask hitting mask. "He wanted you quiet. I wanted you. Here. Where I could see you. Mine. I'll turn this place upside down before I let them take you. Not Julien. Not anyone."
This wasn't love. This is some fucked-up claim or possessiveness. He didn't want me to be free, he wanted me to be his. I was caught between the hurt of the lie and the way his heart was thudding against my palm.
"Tonight is about staying alive," he whispered. "She's going to try to unmask you at midnight. To show everyone the 'rat' in the cage."
He pressed a tiny silver key into my hand. "Don't let that mask fall until I tell you. We play her game, but we're changing the ending."
As we headed back inside, the clock tower started to ring. Midnight.
The music stopped inside. It was quiet. Lady Schuyler walked into the middle of the floor. She was smiling like she'd already won.
"The hour of truth!" she yelled. "Masks off!"
Hands went up to faces. Dmitri gripped my wrist one last time. I felt the key biting into my palm.
The world held its breath. Lady Schuyler was coming right for me. One pull, and the girl I used to be was gone.