She stares at herself in the mirror, shaking. It was no secret that her debut made her anxious. She was a bundle of nerves wrapped in lace and covered in jewels.

The debutante dress was white, a color she didn’t feel flattered her. She preferred dark, cool shades like blue or purple. It was short-sleeved, with a low neckline. To top it off, she had to wear three feathers on her head with a long white veil trailing behind her. She looked ridiculous. She also looked ready for her wedding day, which made sense. After all, the purpose of these balls was to announce to high society that she was eligible for marriage, but she doubts that she would find any good suitors for two crucial reasons.

First, today was her last day in the Charis Realm. After she had woken up from yesterday’s events on the grass of the semi-burnt garden, a horde of Nefastus had stormed the house. Brandishing a sword, she fought alongside the Lord and the butler, beheading many of the eyeless beasts. As they dragged the decapitated heads back into the manor, she was confronted with a forbidden room, a place under constant lock and key.

It wasn’t like the secret room she had found when she first came to the manor for it required no hidden mechanism to get in. From the outside, it was unassuming and ordinary. She had thought it was a broom closet. However, behind that door were rows of Nefastus heads, each kept in glass displays. Occasionally, some of them would move, their mouths twitching or their faces spasming. The Lord assured her that none had ever escaped and rejoined with their bodies, bodies they burned anyway.

“There must be hundreds of them,” she told the Lord, her head spinning from the endless glass cases.

“Two hundred twenty-five, to be exact,” he said. This fact did not reassure her.

“Why are there so many?”

Cedric wouldn’t answer. He said he didn’t know, but she suspected he didn’t want to tell her so she posed the question to Aaron instead.

“It’s because they’re all after you. Ileana wants you dead, right? So they’ve been coming every night.” The demon butler was scrubbing his bloody gloves in the sink.

“I didn’t know I was giving the manor so much trouble.” She felt that she had overstayed her welcome. Had this been the real reason why the Lord never slept early? No, he wouldn’t lie about his nightmares. He was sincere when he told her about those.

“Tomorrow is your ball. Get some rest. Then, we can get you home, away from all these meddlesome goddesses.” Although the butler worded his statement as if sending her away was doing her a service, she knew he was happy to be rid of her. With Lillian trapped in a glass lantern, the only thing he had left to worry about was her presence in the manor.

The second crucial reason she knew she wouldn’t find a fabulous suitor at the ball was that she only had eyes for one boy. While it was clear she was nothing more than an inconvenience to the Lord, she couldn’t help but feel attached. She wonders if she had imagined their connection or if there really was something between them. But what did it matter? By sunrise tomorrow, she would be back home.

“Nicole, are you ready?” The Lord stood at the door, his eyes widening as he took in her appearance. He had abandoned his eyepatch in favor of a glamour over his gold eye. Aaron must’ve finally properly taught him magic. It made him look younger. Cute, even.

“The lady looks like a princess,” Ruth said, joining him at the doorway. She twirls around in her own skirt. “I bet you’re going to find your prince at the ball.”

“I hope he’s handsome,” she said, indulging the young girl’s fantasy.

“Most of them are ugly,” said the little girl. “None of them are as good-looking as the Lord. Isn’t that right?”

She wasn’t sure what to say. It was obvious that the Lord was very attractive, but she knew if she admitted it, she would be subjected to the young girl’s endless teasing.

Cedric gives the girl an awkward smile. “Well Ruth, as handsome as you think I am, I’m only a lord. A prince will be richer.”

“Will it matter if he’s rich if he’s mean and ugly?” She crosses her arms, pouting at the two of them.

“I promise that I won’t allow a mean and ugly man to court me,” Nicole said.

“Do you swear it?” The maid asked the question as if it were the most serious matter.

“I swear,” she said, responding with an equal amount of seriousness.

Satisfied, Ruth left. The Lord smiles at her sheepishly. “I didn’t mean for her to come into the room like that.”

“She reminds me a little of my sister,” she said. “I miss her a lot.”

“You won’t have to miss her any longer,” Cedric said. “You’ll be home tomorrow. I can guarantee it.”

She falls silent. The air was thick, filled with unspoken words between the two. As much as she wanted to go home, she still didn’t want to leave the manor. Her time here didn’t feel finished, but she was certain to face a bloody, gruesome death if she stayed. She lingers in the room, waiting for the Lord to tell her to leave.

“Miss Walker,” he said.

“I know,” she grumbled. “I have to go to the ball.”

He holds out his arm wordlessly. She lets out a heavy sigh and latches on to his elbow while he chuckles, guiding her to the carriage waiting for her outside.

She shivers slightly. Spring was colder than she expected. She steps inside the carriage, not feeling any warmer. Immediately, she regrets not bringing a coat.

As soon as she thinks this, something warm drapes over her shoulders. She looks up, surprised to find the Lord draping his jacket over her.

“You seemed cold,” he said. “Do you feel better now?”

Her cheeks redden. “How did you-”

“How could I not? Your teeth were chattering.”

She slides her arms into the sleeves of the jacket. “Thank you. And for the record, my teeth were not chattering.”

The Lord holds back a laugh. His jacket was clearly too big for her. And with her arms crossed and that pertinent glare on her face, she looked adorably mad.

“Whatever you say,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. As long as she was warm, he didn’t care how angry she was.

“Hey,” she said, “could I ask you something?”

He detects a bit of trepidation in her voice. “Anything.”

“Before, you called me ‘the worst kind of distraction.’ Did you mean that? I’m sorry if I’ve been bothering you.”

He sighs, leaning back into the carriage seat. He couldn’t bring himself to lie to her. “You have been a distraction, but you’re definitely not the worst kind.”

She looks down at her hands, mortified. “I should’ve left the manor sooner. I didn’t realize I was this much of a burden.” Guilt pools in her stomach, making her feel queasy.

“You misunderstand. You may be a distraction, but you’re certainly not a burden. I truly enjoy your company,” he said, placing his gloved hands over her’s.

“Do you really mean that?” She looks at him hopefully, praying that he’d tell her the truth.

Before he could respond, the carriage stopped in front of the palace. Much to her dismay, he pulls his hands away, leaving the carriage. She stays seated, wondering if she did something wrong.

The carriage door opens again, this time with the Lord offering her his hand. She takes it, expecting for her feet to meet cobblestone. Instead, he lifts her up, taking her by surprise.

“Do Lords usually carry ladies to the ball? One might think this is improper,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck to steady herself.

“Miss Walker,” he said, “most ladies don’t want to ruin their dress. And in case you haven’t noticed, it’s raining.”

That’s when she realized Aaron was holding an umbrella over them. The steady pitter-patter of the rain hitting the ground soothed her. Puddles begin to form around the Lord’s feet.

“I actually like the rain,” she said.

“You’re a madwoman,” he said. “Are you suggesting that I let you ruin your dress by frolicking in the rain?”

She shakes her head. Something about being held like this made her feel like a princess.

“Well, at least you have some sense in your head,” he said, carrying her to the entrance. She giggles, giddy and nervous. All her lessons with Aaron had led up to this moment. Between getting kidnapped and tortured and finally having some grasp of Latin and basic etiquette, her time in the Charis Realm had been busy to say the least.

“Miss,” a guard at the door said, “no coats.”

“But I’m cold,” she protested. She wraps Cedric’s jacket around her even more closely, unwilling to part with the warmth.

“It’s the Queen’s rules,” the guard said, blocking the entrance. “I’ve had to ask all ladies to take off their shawls.”

She glares at the guard, shrugging off the jacket. Stupid debutante rules.

The next few moments pass by in a blur. She enters a room full of similarly dressed girls, each in their own light-colored gowns and long veils. She couldn't help but feel like she was in a room full of preening peacocks, every girl wearing a crown of feathers that bounced with every step they made. But she couldn't blame them. A good marriage was the only way they could have better lives, at least in a way society approved of.

Before she knew it, she was kissing the Queen’s hand while clutching a bouquet of flowers, trying her best not to tremble before the monarch. Truthfully, the whole ballroom was intimidating. She had never been surrounded by so many well-dressed royals.

“Enjoying yourself?” The Lord appears at her side, drink in hand.

“This definitely is an experience,” she said. She had never felt so left out in her life. He chuckles, moving to talk to another royal man. She envied how he seemed so comfortable, so in his element. She tried to do the same by talking to another debutante, but the conversation quickly dwindled as the girl didn’t find her very interesting.

Bored, she takes a seat at the edge of the large room, pulling a book out of her skirt. With soft classical music playing in the background, she found it easy to get lost in the world of the story. She was so immersed that she didn’t notice a man take a seat beside her until he tapped her on the shoulder. She jolted, startled by his touch.

“Can I help you?” She looks up from her book, crossed that someone had interrupted her reading.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you were sitting here, all by yourself. I thought you might like some company.” The gray-haired man smiles, leaning closer to her.

“You must be mistaken,” she said, trying to hide her discomfort. “I’m perfectly content in my own little corner.”

“What’s that book you’re reading?” He snatches it out of her hands, completely ignoring her words. “Great Expectations? I see you’re a Dickens fan. I could take you to meet him if you’d like.” He flips through the pages carelessly, losing her place in the book.

She tries to take the book back, but the man holds it out of reach, smiling even wider. It made her blood boil seeing him enjoy her struggle.

“If you give me one dance,” he said, “I’ll give you your little book back and you can meet Dickens. Do we have a deal?”

“No,” she growled. She contemplates shifting her bracelet into a sword and holding the weapon at his throat. How quickly that smirk would fall from his face! He would instantly regret toying with her.

“Come one now,” he said, his voice taking on a menacing edge, “one dance won’t kill anyone.”

“The lady said no.” Cedric takes the book out of the man’s hand. He briefly glances at the title, allowing himself a small smile. That’s my girl, he thought. He hands the book back to her.

She quickly tucks it back into her skirt, away from the nosy hands of the gray-haired man. The man glares at the both of them, displeased.

“A proper lady would accept a dance with any eligible gentleman,” he said. “You wouldn’t want to disgrace the family name.”

“If the lady needs a dance partner, she’s better off prancing with a man that doesn’t have two left feet,” the Lord said. “Everyone knows you have an awful habit of stepping on the toes of poor, impressionable young women.”

The gray-haired man sputters, rendered speechless. Embarrassed, he excuses himself. The Lord chuckles, taking a seat next to her.

“I wasn’t lying, you know. That man is a horrible dancer. I saved your feet from having to go through that ordeal,” he said.

“My hero,” she said, pretending to swoon. She and the Lord share a smile. For a moment, she feels something warm blossom in her chest.

The musicians in the background strike up a lively tune, shifting the atmosphere. She taps her feet to the beat, clicking her shoes.

“Care to dance?” The Lord holds out a hand to her.

“I’m not a very good dancer,” she said. If her lessons with Aaron had taught her anything, it was that her clumsiness was incurable.

“I promise I won’t let you fall and I can guarantee that I won’t step on your toes,” he said. “Besides, I can tell you’re enjoying the music.” He points to her restless feet.

She searches her brain for an excuse to avoid dancing with him. It wasn’t as if she didn’t want to be on the floor with him, but the thought made her anxious.

He takes her hand and leans down into her ear. “I want a dance with the girl I like. It is entirely in your hands whether or not to fulfill my wish.”

She feels her neck grow warm. A deep flush covers her cheeks and spreads to the rest of her body. She was certain that she looked like a tomato, but he kept looking at her as if she were the most beautiful girl in the room. She stands up, still holding his hand.

“Let’s dance,” she said.