Marie-Fey stopped at the words.

Sophia's arm tightened around hers instantly. "Fey, we can keep walking," she muttered.

Marie-Fey didn't answer, her gaze scanning the crowd ahead. She wasn't sure who she was looking for.

She wasn't looking for anyone.

She straightened her shoulders and turned, facing the group, Lady Lashby as the speaker. She was with Lady Rowe, Miss Damsil and Mrs Mayberry.

"Ladies," Marie-Fey said with an easy smile as if she hasn't noticed them – which she hadn't.

"Hello Marie-Fey," Miss Damsil said with her ever-present slightly nasal voice – Marie-Fey could never decide if it was quaint or infuriating. She spoke as softly as Gharam and Marie-Fey had wanted to hit Gharam back when they'd first met as well, and she didn't have a nasal voice... it was mostly infuriating. "We were wondering if you'd show up this evening."

"Why wouldn't I?" Marie-Fey asked easily.

Lady Lashby snorted a laugh, putting her fan to her lips.

"Is something funny, Lady Lashby?" Sophia asked in her sweetest growl and Lashby gave her a derisive look.

"Don't you have a fiancé to dance with?" she asked by way of dismissal.

"Don't you have a husband to dance with?" Sophia asked, "Or is he off dancing with the young Miss Reginald?"

That stab to the heart wiped the pugnacious smirk from Lashby's face and she looked ready to strike Sophia.

Marie-Fey eased Sophia behind her, stepping into Lashby's line of sight and smiling at her. "I take it you've been well, ladies?" she asked calmly.

Lashby looked at her.

"We've been well," Mrs Mayberry said politely – ever the most sensible, "We weren't sure you'd attend tonight after travelling. I'm sure you're tired."

"I'm quite recovered," Marie-Fey said.

"Did he come with you this time?" Lady Rowe asked and Marie-Fey slanted her eyes towards her.

Marie-Fey debating on playing dumb but it was an exercise in futility, they all knew who 'he' was and they'd get around to dragging the answer from her soon enough – even if they already knew the answer.

"Not this time," Marie-Fey said and the others started sniggering, snapping their fans into place to hide their laughter.

Marie-Fey felt Sophia surge forwards and she kept her back, eyes remaining locked on Lashby who was looking down at her like she'd successfully crushed an unpleasant insect that had been scuttling around her feet.

"Oh Marie-Fey," she said with a pitying sigh, "What is wrong with you?"

"It's tough having a husband who commands as much land as half this country," Marie-Fey said with a sigh of her own, "It leaves him so busy."

Lashby's eye twitched in annoyance at the mention of how successful Marie-Fey's husband was. It was little bit of an exaggeration in regard to how large her husband's state was, but not far off.

"Not as hard as having a husband who doesn't remember he has a wife," Miss Damsil muttered and that jolted Lashby back into action.

"Quite so, Miss Damsil. Can you image? Are you really so intolerable for a man to be around?"

Marie-Fey resisted rolling her eyes. It was like childhood bullying listening to them sometimes.

"He should have married Rosalia or Antoinette, least they're something to invest time in," Lady Rowe said softly, her voice surprisingly cool.

Marie-Fey stared at her and Lady Rowe smiled a smile equally cold.

"Don't you agree, Lady Lashby?" Rowe asked and Lashby shot her a wicked smile before looking at Marie-Fey again.

"Lady Rowe, you are quite right. Such a shame they were both already married. He had to settle for the plain one," Lashby said.

Sophia almost went for her but Marie-Fey tightened her grip, keeping her still.

Lashby smiled at her. "Something wrong, Miss Denby?" Lashby asked Sophia.

Sophia opened her mouth – to say god knows what – when someone stopped at their side and everyone looked at the newcomer.

Marie-Fey almost groaned at the sight of Zaafira, who's sharp eyes glanced between the two groups with a bored expression.

"Oh, this is one of the... natives you brought with you," Lashby said, holding up her fan, "She's certainly... she's exotic. Can she understand us? Can. You. Understand. US?!"

Marie-Fey wanted to put her face in her hands as Lashby sounded out the question as if she were talking to a moron.

Zaafira stared at her and Marie-Fey could spy a flicker of outrage under her dark eyes.

Zaafira snapped open her glistening peacock styled fan that drew all eyes to it in envy, looked Marie-Fey dead in the eye and asked, "Why on earth is she speaking to me like an idiot?" in the most beautiful accent and diction Marie-Fey had ever heard from her and the other women gaped at her.

Zaafira didn't even wait for Marie-Fey to answer. She just turned back to Lashby.

"Can. You. Understand. Me?" she asked in that same, slow, exaggerated way – only now drenching it in mocking sarcasm.

Lashby just stared at her – probably stunned by Zaafira's audacity.

"Marie-Fey, you should have said I needed to be slow with some of them," Zaafira said with a dismissive shrug.

"What do you want, Zaafira?" Marie-Fey asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"I want you to introduce me to someone who will dance with me," Zaafira said simply, "Your brothers are otherwise engaged; Beldon, is currently with Gharam and Valentine is with some girl called... something beginning with Y. I'm bored."

"I'll find you someone to dance with," Marie-Fey said, looking away.

"Y—You..." Lashby gasped, staring at Zaafira like she wanted to slap her, "Who do you think you are?"

Zaafira glanced at her. "A member of Lord Rais court," she said simply.

"Court? Court!" Lashby almost howled.

"Court," Zaafira replied, neatly closing her fan, "Who are you?"

"I am the Countess, Lady Lashby!"

"How nice for you."

"You—!"

"How are you finding your trip?" Lady Rowe suddenly cut in.

Zaafira glanced at her. "Cold," she replied, her tone matching her answer.

"I take it Marie-Fey's husband couldn't join you again. Tell us, what is he like? Marie-Fey shares so little one with assume she'd never met him."

Zaafira was quiet for a moment, then looked at Marie-Fey.

Marie-Fey stared at her – trying to will her silent with nothing but eye contact alone. And Zaafira saw that in her eyes.

She smiled easily, tapping her fan to her lips before glancing at Lady Rowe.

"He doesn't care for her," she said simply, "Never has, never will – and never has time for her."

The silence that followed that statement could have carried through the hall.

No one outside the group was listening of course.

There was still laughter and music and dancing and talking.

But Marie-Fey felt as if a silence had washed over her as she stared at Zaafira who was watching the other women who was looking at Zaafira in stunned silence.

And then Lashby started to laugh.

She almost doubled over as she shrieked with laughter, clamping a hand to her mouth to stop the unladylike sound as the others joined in, staring at Marie-Fey as they laughed and laughed.

"Oh lord, Marie-Fey!" Lashby gasped, almost crying, "Marie-Fey! You really did fail in marriage. You, a Leigh Lady, dismissed to the side lines. Oh, you are the dull one of your family. You poor, poor creature."

Marie-Fey just stared at Zaafira as the laughter rolled over her, drenching her in ice as Zaafira looked back to meet her eyes.

And Marie-Fey wasn't sure if she wanted to hit someone...

Or if she wanted to cry.

She blinked twice, quickly and turned away.

"Let's find you someone to dance with," she said simply, her tone cool and distant and completely unaffected by the laughter she was walking away – even as she listened to a passing lady ask what they found so funny.

That was it then.

All those carefully crafted barriers that never bled into outright lies but fended off knowledge that she was an abandoned wife were destroyed in a simple moment.

It was like she could feel that little titbit of knowledge circling around her. swooping through the partygoers like smoke, darting into ears and making eyes turn in her direction – scrutinising, judging, renegading her to the outcasts, the outlier of the Leigh Family.

The goddamn failure.

"Marie-Fey," Sophia gasped, following her, trying to catch her arm but Marie-Fey didn't stop until she reached the Master of Ceremonies.

He smiled warmly in greeting, bowing to her.

"Lady Rais! How are you?" he asked.

"Quite well, I would like you to make introductions for one of my guests," Marie-Fey said with an easy smile, turning to find Zaafira.

Zaafira was behind her, watching her with a narrowed gaze – like she was trying to understand something that was evading her.

"This is Miss Zaafira, one of my companions from home. She wishes to dance with a young gentleman – she's a very gifted dancer and would love to take a turn at a waltz. Try to find her someone suitable?"

"Of course, Lady Rais!" he said, delighted to make Zaafira's acquaintance.

"I'm afraid I must step away for just a moment, but I trust I can leave her to you?

"Not to worry, My Lady. I think Mr Rines would love a new partner."

"A perfect match."

With that, Marie-Fey turned to Zaafira, locking eyes with her.

"What's wrong with you?" Zaafira asked, but it didn't sound like she was asking why Marie-Fey was upset – she wasn't sure Zaafira could tell how shaken she was. Marie-Fey wasn't sure what Zaafira was asking her but she just waved her away.

"Go dance," she ordered, walking past, "Go drink. Be merry. Be murdered for all I care."

Zaafira raised an eyebrow after her, then smiled beautifully at the Master of Ceremonies, engaging him in effortless conversation, dismissing Marie-Fey's departure.

Marie-Fey strode through the crowd – ignoring as people glanced at her.

Word hadn't spread that fast.

Logically, she knew that.

They were just looking because that's what you did when a lady of polite society stormed past.

But it felt like judgment bleeding into her lungs and choking her.

"Marie," Sophia started again but at that moment, Ivy appeared, grabbing her older sister's hand.

"Soph, he's here," Ivy said, sounding panicked.

Sophia looked back at her, momentarily torn between her sister and her friend and Marie-Fey spotted the cause of Ivy's concern.

Constantine strode into the hall, shoulders straight and head held high, looking dashing and... cold.

She went straight for him.

He glanced around as if he sensed her approach, took one look at her face and reached for her.

"What's wrong?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and drawing her away.

"I'm worried I'm going to have a fit of nerves," Marie-Fey replied – sounding remarkably calm when she could now begin to feel her heart thudding as her fingers froze.

"Why? What happened?" Constantine asked, sweeping her out of the main hall, heading for the gardens, his towering presence splitting the crowds before them, people moving out of the way before they even realised they needed to move.

He guided her straight out of the building and into the gardens, stepping on the huge marble balcony, delicate chairs and tables set aside for tea during the day and sweeping steps that led down to the grounds.

They took a seat at one of the tables, the one hidden in the most shadow, Constantine turned his chair to her and Marie-Fey pressed her face into her hands.

Constantine quickly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against him and resting his cheek against her head.

"What happened?"

"Lashby has confirmation that I've been abandoned by my husband," Marie-Fey muttered, her voice muffled by her hands and his shoulder.

"What? How? Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"...I'm sorry," he muttered.

"Everyone is going to know," Marie-Fey groaned, "They're all going to talk."

"I'll talk to Antoinette, she'll deal with the gossip," Constantine promised but she just shook her head.

"It's not enough this time. It's going to go right through every channel. The goddamn servants are going to know about this."

"How did they even get confirmation?"

"It doesn't even matter," Marie-Fey muttered before pulling out of his grip and standing up, walking to the steps that led down to the garden, stopping at the top and looking out over the grounds, watching the shadows and moonlight.

Constantine came to stand beside her.

They were quiet for a moment, then he gently tapped her shoulder and she straightened them, lifting her chin as ice settled back into her eyes – cold and untouchable.

"Let's go then," she said, her voice steady and unruffled as she turned back towards the house, striding back inside, Constantine following in her wake.

Word had spread.

It barely took any time at all.

This was why she hated gossip.

The looks people shot her were different from before, when she'd been pushing through the crowd.

Now they were really looking.

With the whispers and the giggles and the pity and the arrogance – as if she somehow failing in marriage meant these people had bested her.

She knew what it was.

They'd bested one of the Leigh Ladies.

They were better than one of the infamous Leigh Siblings.

Better than one of the six powerhouses.

These people were the ones who set the Leigh Family on bloody pedestals in the first place and then tried to drag them off out of envy.

It didn't even count for anything if you bested the failure of the damned family.

It wasn't like they'd bested Antoinette. And yet Marie-Fey literally watched two young women who'd barely been out in society a year turn their noses up at her.

And then their eyed zeroed in on Constantine behind her and they started giggling and pushing at each other to go talk to him.

Marie-Fey wanted to punch them.

She didn't of course, because that wasn't what women of polite society did.

They just shot arrows at their brother-in-law.

She strode past and they crowded into Constantine's space, splitting him off from her.

"How are you this evening, Mr. Leigh?"

"Have you danced yet?"

"You arrived late, are you well?"

"I hear Miss Ivy Denby is marrying soon."

"Doesn't your sister look dower? Is she so upset about her husband?"

"Could the pair of you kindly get out of my way?" Constantine said, loudly enough for everyone to hear and Marie-Fey stopped, before turning to stare back at him – stunned, like everyone else, because Constantine was always the epitome of charm.

The two girls just gaped at him and he smoothly moved them aside.

"I'm not interested in entertaining gossipy children," he said, walking past, gesturing for Marie-Fey to keep walking as he fell into step with her and they entered the main hall.

"You're going to damage your reputation," Marie-Fey said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"My reputation already lost me a wife; I don't care about what people say about me. Never have – and there lies the problem," Constantine said.

Marie-Fey looped her arm through his, squeezing gently, before looking around.

She spotted Sophia with Ivy nearby. But both fiancés were also present.

"Why don't you go dance?" Marie-Fey asked, looking at him.

"Do you want to dance?"

"No. I mean with someone else. Go ask one of the ladies."

"I don't want to dance with them," Constantine said, his eyes scanning the hall.

She felt when he spotted someone he wanted to dance with.

She wasn't sure who it was, but she released his arm and pushed him away.

"I'll be alright," she said when he looked back at her, "Go dance, you'll feel better for it."

Constantine was quiet for a moment and she smiled at him. Finally he turned and strode through the crowd.

Only then did Marie-Fey realise he was heading for Maanah – who was sat by herself, seemingly content to watch the dancers while men hovered around, clearly unsure about approaching the exotic beauty.

Constantine blazed past them all and bowed to Maanah, making her jump. He spoke softly to her and her face actually went red as she quickly shook her head. Constantine laughed at whatever she said and held out his hand, replying softly.

Maanah glanced at the hand, her blush deepening still, before she finally gave him a shy smile – which did not sit right on her confident face – before taking his hand and allowing him to sweep her into the ongoing waltz, tapping Beldon's shoulder in greeting as he went sailing past with Gharam, who was really starting to get the hang of dancing and was staring at Beldon with star-struck eyes while everyone else stared at them. They did make a lovely couple after all.

Zaafira was also amongst the dancers, looking resplendent and dazzling as her gown whirled around her and her golden skin shone in the light – her dance partner clearly in love with her already.

Marie-Fey resisted the urge to fold her arms across her chest – she wasn't around the women of the palace anymore after all and had to moderate her body language.

Lashby glided past at that moment with her little trio of sniggerers and she smiled at Marie-Fey, the expression twisted on her face.

"Why the ugly face, Marie-Fey, dear?" she asked brightly, her tone charming, "Come on, smile. It's not so bad, everyone already knew after all. Everyone has always known you were slightly broken."

Marie-Fey stared at her and Lashby's grin turned malicious.

"And it only became more apparent after you came back from that hovel you called home," she said, her eyes flashing, "What happened, Marie-Fey? What happened that made you so repulsive to your husband?"

Marie-Fey didn't have any words for that. She was just stunned. Stunned that Lashby would speak so brazenly in front of other people – that just was not how one spoke in polite company! Did Marie-Fey deserve so little respect?!

But also, she pinpointed the moment Marie-Fey had broken.

She was fishing. Marie-Fey knew that.

She didn't know what she was hinting at – how could she?

But the very words, the thoughts and memories that reared back up at her...

Marie-Fey turned around, bypassed the other guests, stepped out of the gala and walked home, leaving Lashby laughing behind her.