When Imogen and Blaise had presented me with a selection of fine ballroom gowns, all exclusive designs for the Prince’s Betrothed, I’d almost—almost—let myself get excited.

They’d brought me five dresses, but I’d hardly noticed the other four.

I hadn’t even needed to try it on to know.

Though I’d tried it on anyway. Obviously.

The gown was golden and sparkling and simple and everything I could have ever wanted from an article of clothing.

As Imogen secured the back of the dress, I grazed its soft material with my fingertips. A Fae-made fabric. Humans had never quite figured out how to make a fabric sparkle like starlight and retain its softness.

When I gazed in the mirror tonight, a familiar rush went through me, as it had the first time I’d tried on the dress. Except this time Blaise had completed the look—a slash of kohl across my eyelids, a braided updo that allowed a flurry of tight curls to frame my face, a golden circlet that lay across my brow with a single diamond adorning my forehead.

The dress itself reminded me of molten gold burning so hot it was almost white. It sparkled and shone in the light of the flickering lanterns. Perhaps that was what it reminded me of—the soft glow of candlelight.

The dress was of a simple cut. Its high neckline grazed my collarbones before settling into thin straps around my neck, covering everything except my shoulders. It had a snug but tasteful fit around my hips before flaring out slightly at the bottom, quite unlike the girlish ballgowns I’d seen other female humans don.

“You look nice, milady,” Imogen said, to which I smiled. It hit me how dazzled I’d been with my reflection just now, something I hadn’t bothered too much with in the years where I’d been hunting down any last second to spend in my father’s glass-working shop.

Blaise scoffed, leaning against my bedpost. “Nice? That’s almost an insult. You look breathtaking, El.”

I shot her a grin, and she tossed it right back. I hadn’t ended up telling Blaise about my burgeoning feelings for Evander. By the time I’d seen Blaise again, doubt regarding whether Evander returned my feelings had begun to creep in. It just seemed easier to tuck them away rather than admit them aloud.

“Wait!” Blaise said, going to the vanity and pulling a string of pearls from a velvet box. She strung the necklace around my neck and fastened it in the back. When she did, the scent of lilacs and rosebud wafted in the air.

“You smell…good,” I said, a bit more suspiciously than I intended to. Blaise wasn’t the type to wear perfume.

Blaise just wheeled me around and tossed her dark hair over her shoulder in a flourish. “Why, thank you. Thought I’d try something new.”

I didn’t miss the glare Imogen directed toward Blaise, who leaned forward and whispered, “I may or may not have borrowed it from her without asking.”

I was about to remind Blaise that one couldn’t exactly borrow perfume, as there was no way to return the amount that was used, when I heard a knock.

Evander opened the door, and his eyes swept over me. He let out a strangled noise, as if he had thought to whistle but had then thought better of it.

I laughed. Good choice.

“Trying to impress me?” he asked, his sea-green eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned against the doorpost. His ball attire had been specially tailored to complement mine. Not match. Complement.

If my gown was a newborn star, then Evander was the night.

He was dressed in sleek black from head to toe, the only color in his snug-fitting suit at his wrists, where two white-gold buttons boasted the Dwellen insignia, a mountain formed of geometric flowers. His bronze hair had been styled, lightly combed back so it was out of his forehead—an old-fashioned style that quite suited him.

“Oh, Your Highness, you know there’s no trying involved,” I said.

Evander grinned and offered me his arm, which I took, not for the first time. His muscles bulged under his dress coat, and I tried not to notice.

Well, kind of tried.

Blaise and Imogen followed behind us, and as soon as they moved, Evander went still, a look of confusion spreading across his face. “What’s that smell?” he asked.

Blaise flitted her hand into the air haphazardly. “That would be me.”

Imogen shuffled her feet, clenching her fists.

Evander swallowed, blinking rapidly. “It’s quite strong, don’t you think.”

“Is it? I didn’t notice,” Blaise said, though the way she flung her hair across her shoulder, sending a whiff of perfume in Evander’s direction that had him gagging, implied otherwise.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the way Evander’s nose turned up in disgust. I rarely thought about how much more sensitive the fae’s sense of smell was. The perfume, which was pleasant to me, must have been an assault to his nostrils.

“It seems you’re no longer in need of escorts,” Imogen snapped, bouncing into a quick curtsy before dragging Blaise away.

Imogen must really have been agitated about Blaise taking her perfume to willingly leave me alone with Evander.

My date just shook his head, like he was trying to clear his senses of the overwhelming perfume. When he looked down at me, he was smiling again.

“So, what’s the ruse for tonight?” I asked.

“Oh, since we played up how much we hated one another in the last trial, I figure we give the nobles something to cheer for tonight.”

His words sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. “And how exactly do we do that?”

“Act the part.”

“What part?”

“The part of two people, separated by class and mortality and magic and general upbringing, fighting against all odds for our passionate love.”

“Oh, that.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard for you,” he smirked.

I rolled my eyes. “And why is that?”

“Because you’re obviously in love with me. You won’t even have to act.” The words were encased in a taunting, playful grin. He was just flirting, I knew that. But I couldn’t help but think of the night he told me he didn’t love me. How, because of his inability to lie, I had known it to be true. Suddenly, the words didn’t feel like so much of a joke.

“Ahh, yes, I’m sure….” But I didn’t know where to go from there.

He chuckled, but didn’t respond for the rest of the walk to the ball.

When we arrived outside the ballroom doors—each crafted from three-inch-thick sheets of crystal, because why not?—laughter and music echoed from inside. A pair of guards bowed to the prince when we approached.

“I thought the ball was to begin at half past seven,” I said, concerned. Evander had picked me up no later than seven, so we should have been early, not late.

“The ball began for them at half-past six. For us, it begins at half past seven,” he said.

“Is that customary?” My blood simmered with the anxiety of arriving to the ball late with Evander. It was bad enough to be escorted by him, to have everyone’s attention on us at all times. But the prince would turn heads if he made a late appearance.