el

rough my sleeves until my fingers went numb. Somewhere behind me, the ballroom pulsed with music and laughter-waltzes I should have

al. None of it ha

the kind that announced owners

g to think you'

ow and dry as autumn leaves. He'd been waiting. Of course he had

him. "Agnes is settled

our si

back to the ballroom. It started as a servant's panicked cry-Miss Arie

t through the garden a

g off to the Nightingale Pavilion with a man! I

her exactly: standing in the ballroom doorway, fists clenched at her sides, face blo

g thing. Guests spilled onto the ter

n? At the

ou expect from a wolfless Omega

er. April must

anguish she'd practiced in her mirror for weeks: "Poppy, are you absolutely

designed for one purpose and one purpose only: to p

April. We all saw her slip away. She's been gone for ages. And you know how thos

r, her small fists clenched, her face flushed with fury. She opened her mouth-probably to swear, probably in a dialect tha

t

le as a frozen lake in winter. "They're building quite the stage for you. Y

tirring the wisteria. "The higher they build it, t

s. He raised his glass in a silent toast, then turned and melted back into the shadows, circling toward the path th

riel has been gone far too long! If Poppy is telling the truth-if something terrible ha

dal and barely concealed excitement. They weren't wo

und the bend in the garden path. The music from the ballroom had

red, stepping out fr

st. The metal was cold against my fingertip

ow

ts of the Nightingale Pavilion flickered through the leaves like distant stars. April's voice drifted back to me, still performing her

ehind her. She still th

curl into the

every line. But you forgot to check whet