CHAPTER 8 Sep 24, 2025 The music drifted up the staircase. For a long moment, I hovered in the shadow of the landing, my heart hammering harder than it had in years. The dress-if I could call it that-clung to me like a second skin. Midnight blue velvet, cinched at the waist with soft pleats that fell like water, and off-the-shoulder sleeves stitched with thin silver thread that shimmered whenever I breathed. My breath hitched. This wasn't how I was supposed to look. I wasn't supposed to belong here. But right now, I did. "Chin up," Sarah whispered from behind me. "Make them regret ever laughing." I stepped into the light. Gasps echoed like ripples through the ballroom as I descended, each heel click ricocheting against the marble floor. Heads turned. Fans froze mid-flutter. Even the music faltered for half a beat before the strings picked up again, trying to pretend the world hadn't just tilted slightly. It wasn't the dress. It wasn't even the hair Sarah had curled by firelight or the berry-stained lips she'd insisted on. It was that no one had expected me to arrive like this. "Who... who is that?" someone murmured. "I thought she was one of the maids." "Look at her-is this some lost duchess?" They stared like I'd bloomed out of nowhere. And then I saw her. Clarissa stood at the far end of the ballroom beneath a chandelier dripping with crystals, wrapped in lavender silk that matched her fury too well. Her lips parted, eyebrows lifting in disbelief-then dipping into something colder, sharper. She elbowed one of the girls beside her, eyes never leaving me. The girl leaned in, whispered something that made Clarissa's chin tilt defiantly. And then she smiled. Thin. Acidic. "Well," she said loudly, "the palace has certainly lose it's standards." Several girls tittered. Clarissa stepped forward, raising her glass. "To innovation! Sewing rags into royalty!" Laughter followed like dogs on a leash. I didn't breathe. I couldn't. I reached the base of the stairs, heat crawling up my spine like shame had grown claws. Eyes kept following me, and though some were admiring, most were confused-suspicious even. I didn't belong. And yet, here I was. Stolen curtain dress. Bare wrists. I walked the edge of the ballroom, past gold-gilded columns and wide-eyed nobles, scanning for Sarah, but the room was too full. It felt like the walls themselves were leaning in, pressing the whispers tighter against my skin. "She looks like a ghost..." "I heard she's Clarissa's sister-can you imagine?" "She's going to embarrass herself." "She's going to ruin everything." I couldn't breathe. The air turned thick with perfume and pity. I pushed past a cluster of giggling girls and slipped out the side door into the corridor. Cool stone hit my back as I leaned against the wall, chest rising too fast. The music played on behind the walls, violins soaring like nothing had happened. But everything had. I ran. Past courtyards and shuttered wings, past startled maids and guards too polite to question me. I didn't stop until I reached the garden. The same one from before. The moon hung low, casting the hedges in silver. Roses curled around forgotten trellises, and the stone path was dappled with fallen petals. I dropped onto the marble bench near the ivy archway, my hands trembling in my lap. Why had I come? Why had I let Sarah convince me? A dress couldn't erase the years I'd spent scouring floors and eating scraps. It couldn't erase the way Clarissa looked at me like I was dirt beneath her glass slippers. "I shouldn't have come," I whispered into the night. "I never should've-" "Shouldn't have what?" The voice came from behind the hedges-low, composed, and unmistakably male. Calm in the way dangerous things are, like he'd been standing there long enough to listen. I went still. My fingers curled into my skirt. I knew better than to run again.