The first time I set foot in a Society ball, my breath was taken away as I watched the Society dance through a sea of stars. Stars glistened outside the glass ceiling and through the window that takes up the entirety of the far wall. There were stars that hovered above the floor that I called projections but that was a loose term because a swish of a dress would send the stars twirling with the dancers. All of that is still here, just as stunning as it was during the first ball.

Tonight, the Society has become the stars. They're also the night sky, and the misty clouds that pass between the heavens and earth. Bathed in swaths of black, silver, and white, they twirl and twist, spinning under the arms of their partners to the pace of the music. The lights from the chandeliers catch on the stones and sequins on gowns and suits and on the masks that shield the faces of the Society.

My own gown is black, decorated in silver and black stones, the skirt of it covered by a layer of tulle. The mask that cuts across my nose and brows matches my dress, and a streak of silver weaves its way across the mask.

I scan the crowd trying to catch sight of anyone I know, my heart already hammering at what Colton and I will attempt.

No one wears laurel wreath crowns tonight. There is nothing to set the Order and those in close relation to them apart from the rest of the Society. The only reason I'm able to spot Jonas is because I saw him an hour ago before the ball begun. He's in conversation with a man and a woman not too far from me. His suit fits him too well that it's hard not to stare. His jacket is a dark silver covered in black whorls. When he notices my gaze, his eyes hidden on his mask that matches his jacket meet mine, and even through his mask, I feel them smoldering against my skin as he rakes his eyes over me. My toes curl in my slippers, similar to ballet shoes but thicker, sturdier. Ones in which I could dance the whole night through with Jonas if I didn't have a mission.

Jonas brings his eyes back to mine, and he tilts his head ever so slightly as if asking why I'm still glued to my spot.

In a few days I'll be gone. I know I will. It's the best choice for me. For Jonas.

I swallow hard, forcing myself to turn away, only to find myself inches away from a broad chest hidden underneath a tux. I tilt my head back to meet Bently's gaze.

Even with the mask, this close, I have no difficulties identifying him.

"Iris." His tone is cool.

"Digamma."

He smiles, and I wonder if this is what it's like for prey when a lion bares its teeth right before it lunges.

"Dance with me."

At some point the song that was playing when I entered stopped, but I only notice it now.

"Why would I do that, Digamma? I believe the point of Kerrie-uh is that we're equal for tonight. You can't order me around."

He clasps his hands behind his back. "You dislike the Digamma. As you just said, we are the same tonight, which means I'm not the Digamma."

"I'd rather not." Turning on my heel, I seek out Jonas, but he's no longer where I last saw him. Bently's hand wraps around my arm, rooting me to my spot. My sleeves come to my wrists, so I don't have to feel his skin against mine, but the fine fabric does nothing to hide the way his fingers tighten against my muscles.

"Dance with me, Iris."

I roll my shoulders back.

"It's too crowded to attack me."

As I turn, I force a smile, placing my hand in his palm he holds out like he's making an offering. "Don't tempt me, Digamma."

https://youtu.be/3Q0SzE-Sp74

He guides me onto the dance floor, positioning one hand on my waist, keeping the other wrapped around my hand. The music begins with only the piano the notes low and harsh. After four three counts, Bently lets go of me to bow and reluctantly I dip into a curtsy as the rest of the room acknowledges their partners. When we rise, he takes my hand and waist again. With his hand on my shoulder, I wonder how hard it would be to slide it a few inches to the right and wrap it around his throat. Violins and a flute take the place of the piano and Bently sends us into the waltz. The moves of this waltz are an unfamiliar pattern, and it takes all my concentration to pick up the steps. I have a feeling if I step on his feet, Bently won't take it kindly.

Bently spins me under his arm and catches me against him.

He grimaces.

"What?" My eyes flash to him before I have to return to focusing on the steps. He is the one who wanted to dance.

"Colton and Erik are glaring at us."

"Why did you really want to dance, Bently?"

"I wanted to talk in private. This was the closest I could manage without drawing suspicion."

I think he's already drawn it.

Though it's killing me, I keep myself from asking him what it is he wants to discuss. I won't give him that satisfaction.

As Bently goes to dip me, I'm ready for it and as I rise out of it, I brush my foot outward as we sweep across the room. Stars are sent spinning by my slipper.

"How are you doing after your attack?"

I don't detect any concern in his voice.

"They didn't manage to accomplish much."

We part, each spinning around ourselves before coming back together.

"Colton's succeeded more than they did."

"Jonas has as well."

My steps falter, and Bently nearly treads on my feet.

"What?"

"He's the reason you were in the hospital."

"Erik's not entirely blameless in that situation." I spot has I spin, and he catches me against him. "This is what you wanted to discuss?"

"No." He raises his hand to twirl me. "You've enchanted my cousins. Even Colton."

"Colton's not—"

"You've enchanted them just as a witch might."

I raise my eyebrows, not even sure if he can notice with the mask over my eyes. "I'm a witch?"

"Don't women like putting love spells on rich men?"

"Spells? Digamma, do we live in the same world?"

His jaw tightens.

"Do you have a sister?" I ask.

"No."

"A mother?"

Underneath his mask, his brown eyes darken. "She prefers her space."

For a minute we dance in silence before I break it. "You think I've cast love spells on your family?"

"Why else do they seem ready to let Elleany fall to ruin for you?"

"I am not a witch, and to be honest, I'm finding this whole conversation rather absurd."

A cello and a bass join the violins.

"It that how you cheated death?"

"I don't believe in magic." I try pulling away—far more than ready to end this dance—but he keeps a tight grip on me, even though it means we miss the turns for which the dance calls.

His hold could bruise. "I don't know how else to explain you."

The music climbs, the notes of the flute whirling as the violins almost seem to march.

Turning over the pattern of steps in my head, I sigh, weary. "Someone who is merely very lucky."

The music hits its crescendo and drops low.

"Luck I'm not sure has anything to do with it."

As the notes vibrate in the air and the music dies, Bently leads us into the final steps. He bows, and I give him a far too shallow curtsy.

Before he can try grabbing me again, I head for the outskirts of the room, treading through the stars that spin as I touch them.

"Iris."