Shadow Court was nearing its end when Corinne came home to find the invitation under her door.

She lifted the heavy, gold-embossed, white envelope. A shiver of heat ran through her as she caught the light fragrance coming off it—jasmine and silk—the perfume Lady Snow had been wearing. Just like that, Corinne’s body was awake and tingling.

Then came a second thought. The invitation had come here. Lady Snow knew exactly who she was.

Corinne tested that thought, turned it over in her mind. Realized she’d brought this on herself. She’d given Lady Snow her real name, and it wasn’t as though there were so many Corinnes running around the court—especially Corinnes who belonged to the Dragon clan—that someone as smart and connected as Lady Snow seemed to be shouldn’t be able to figure out who she was.

Neither the envelope nor the paper within included any names, which was reassuring. Only a date, a time, and an address, written in shimmering blue ink and an elegant script. Below those, a note.

Have you decided what you want, Little Dragon? If so, come find me.

There it was.

Corinne had been thinking about this, anticipating, dreaming. At night, lying in bed, she’d replayed scenes from the first party as she teased herself with light touches. At first, she’d simply remembered things as she saw them, but as the nights wore on, she’d started putting herself into the fantasies, trying to imagine what it would feel like, what it would be like.

Corinne still couldn’t say she knew what she wanted. She’d gone from too little information to to much. Before she’d walked into Lady Snow’s party, she had only the vaguest idea of what she might find there. Now that she’d seen the decadent options, the variety, she didn’t have any idea how to choose—what first to try from the overwhelming buffet of pleasure.

But there was no question she was going.

Corinne had bought a new dress. She’d gone to the boutique just to look, without saying—even to herself—what she was looking for. But the minute she’d seen it, she’d known.

It was designed in one of the popular Swan styles—nothing that Corinne’s mother would approve of. It was black, with gold thread and tiny crystals woven through; form-fitting at the waist, flowing in the skirt, with a plunging neckline that reached almost down to her belly button.

She’d left her measurements with the tailor and in the days waiting for it to be fitted, Corinne crafted herself a mask. Not with magic, this time, but during late-night work in her workshop. Black leather, soaked and hammered until it was supple and soft, then painted with red and gold into another dragon face.

Once again, Corinne wore the dress and the mask and nothing else.

The address on the card led her to another mansion in another wealthy district of Tapti. Corinne had attended a state dinner in this neighborhood and she knew several members of parliament who lived on this street. If someone was her here…

If anyone saw her, if they could recognize her through her mask, they still wouldn’t know where she was going. They certainly wouldn’t know what was happening at that location unless they had an invitation themselves. If they did have an invitation…well…Corinne would just deal with that if it happened.

Corinne was greeted at the door by one of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen—the masculine reflection of Lady Snow. While he lacked her overwhelming presence, he made up for it in pure, physical perfection. Like Snow, he was pale, almost to the point of translucence, with crystalline blue eyes and pure white hair. He was dressed in shimmering layers of white, pale blue, and gray, fitted at the top to show off his impressive physique, spreading into long, diaphanous skirts that swirled at the slightest movement. His nails were painted the same shining white as his hair. On his face, a thin, pearlescent mask did nothing to obscure his features.

“Sur Corinne.” He bowed with the sort of graceful, studious, perfection Corinne had only seen in Imperial courtiers. Like Lady Snow, his appearance had to be pure artifice. No one was born looking like this.

Corinne returned the bow, feeling clumsy as she did so. Dragon akashics didn’t bow. Not to each other, and certainly not to strangers. But his gesture had been so natural, it seemed rude not to respond in kind.

“I’m Frost,” he said, once she’d straightened. “I assist Lady Snow and see that everything is arranged to her liking.”

“Am I to be arranged, then?” Corinne asked, on edge enough it was making her sharp.

But Frost didn’t seem to mind. “You’re new to our little fêtes, and last time you were given no introduction.” He had to be a courtier of some sort. It took serious skill to speak with just the right inflection that Corinne understood he was aiming a criticism, but not at her. “Lady Snow wanted to be certain you understood the rules.” He smiled. “So that if you do get into trouble, it’s entirely by choice.”

Corinne wasn’t the first to arrive, but most everyone here was simply talking, clustered around the front hall with drinks and canapés. Corinne and Frost earned a number of looks, but no one stared overlong.

“Anonymity is the rule here,” Frost said as he led her deeper in. “Don’t give your real name. Don’t demand it from anyone else. Even if you happen to recognize someone.”

“You know my name,” Corinne pointed out.

“I am your host. Along with Lady Snow. You’re safe with us; I promise.”

He continued. “Don’t touch anyone unless invited. All the guests will extend the same courtesy to you. That goes for any activity. As you become more familiar, as you get to know people, interactions become more fluid and relaxed, but we encourage people to err on the side of caution.

“Don’t feel pressured to participate in anything that makes you feel uncomfortable. You are a guest in this house. You’re obligated to no one’s pleasure but your own. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed your first time.” A hint of a smile. “It’s easy to feel overwhelmed every time. No one will judge you for taking things slow.

“If you do feel uncomfortable—if you need for things to stop, say the word shadow.”

“Shadow,” Corinne repeated.

“Yes. That’s the word of the house. Anyone here will respect it.”

All this talk of rules and restrictions was making Corinne more nervous, not less. In her imaginings, she’d walked in and the people around her had just known what she wanted, what would feel good. Frost’s litany of instruction implied that the reality might be very much the opposite. “Can I ask—are you…do you…” she wasn’t entire sure how to finish her sentence. “Participate?” she landed on.

“I do.” There was no judgement in his voice for what was, on reflection, probably a silly question.

“Was it hard your first time? Were you nervous?”

“Everyone’s experience is different,” he answered. Which sounded like a very polite way of saying no. She frowned and he must have seen it, because he went on.

“I knew myself before I knew of Lady Snow. I came to my first party knowing exactly what I was looking for.”

“Did you find it?”

He gave a slight shake of his head. “Tonight is your night, Sur Corinne. Focus on that. Once you have some experiences of your own—formed without preconceptions or the taint of other people’s expectations, then you and I can talk again, and I’ll be happy to trade stories.”

It was probably an empty promise. Shadow Court would be ending soon, and once it was over, Lady Snow and Frost would return to wherever it was they came from, and odds were good Corinne would never see them again. But it was still a nice sentiment. “I look forward to that.”

They stepped into an enormous ballroom that had been transformed into a shadowy wonderland. Soft floating lights and sheer curtains gave the room a dreamlike quality. Chains and hooks hanging down from the ceiling turned that dream to something darker. Through one of the billowing curtains that divided the room, Corinne saw the silhouette of a woman hanging suspended from one of those chains, her body sculpted into a graceful arc by the ropes that held her.

“Welcome to the playground,” Frost whispered. When Corinne looked back, he was gone. She stood alone.