He turned to retreat, the noise grating against his nerves, but a sudden, foreign sensation rooted him in place. A tightening, sharp and unfamiliar, like a blade pressing against his ribs.
The doors opened, and chaos stilled.
She stepped inside, silver-clad, her presence slicing through the room like moonlight forged into steel.
Max’s breath hitched. Everything else—the rebellion, the palace, even Wolcott’s barbs—faded.
Sin - two days before the ball
The manor was cloaked in silence, the moonlight casting thin, eerie shadows across the corridors. Sin’s heart pounded as she crept toward Vivienne’s door. Her body ached from the punishment she had suffered earlier, her back throbbing with each step, each sting a reminder of the scars that marred her skin—the very marks that made her feel monstrous, driving her to seek the glamour.
The glass stilettos—her only chance, her only key to the ball—were within reach. If she could wear them with the glamour, her scars would disappear, hidden beneath an illusion of flawless beauty, and for one night, she would be someone else—someone worthy.
The door stood ajar. Sin paused, listening for any sign of movement. The manor was still. Too still. She eased the door open just enough to slip inside. Her breath hitched as she took in Vivienne’s room, a world so different from her own—a place of luxury, silk curtains draped elegantly over the windows, furniture polished to perfection. A faint scent of sweet perfume lingered in the air, making Sin’s stomach churn.
She didn’t belong here.
Her gaze locked on the stilettos, displayed on a velvet cushion near the far wall. Their pristine beauty mocked her own reflection—unscarred, perfect, everything she would never be. The glass shoes glimmered in the low light, so delicateand pristine, as if they had never been touched. Sin’s fingers trembled. She was so close. She had to move. She took a tentative step, the floor creaking beneath her feet, and froze.
The room seemed to grow smaller, the air thicker. She pressed on, inching toward the stilettos, her heart racing with every step.
Finally, she reached the pedestal. The stilettos were more beautiful than she had imagined. They were perfection incarnate—everything she wasn’t. Her scarred hands hesitated as they hovered over the glass. Could she really do this? Could she really steal them?
The floor creaked behind her.
Sin whipped around, panic flooding her senses. Her breath caught in her throat as she strained to hear. Footsteps. Soft, slow footsteps coming down the hall. Someone was coming. She ducked behind a nearby curtain, clutching the velvet fabric with trembling hands. Her heart pounded in her ears, so loud she thought for sure whoever was outside would hear it.
The footsteps grew louder, drawing closer. Sin squeezed her eyes shut, every muscle tensing. She couldn’t be caught here. Not now. Not like this.
The sound passed, fading into the distance. She waited a few more agonizing moments before releasing a shaky breath, her pulse still hammering in her chest. She stepped out from behind the curtain, her knees weak, and quickly grabbed the stilettos. Their cool glass surface felt foreign in her hands, their weight heavier than she had anticipated. But there was no time to linger. She had to get out before someone returned.
With one last glance toward the door, she darted out of the room, moving as swiftly and silently as possible through the dark corridors of the manor. The night air hit her face as she finally slipped outside, her heart still racing, her palms damp with sweat.
The shoes were hers. But the risk… the price… it loomed over her like a shadow.
* * *
Sin walked briskly through the forest, her breath uneven. The night was thick with fog, the air damp and heavy. She quickened her pace, the feeling of eyes on her back growing stronger with each step.
Magnolia’s cottage wasn’t far, but the journey felt longer than usual. The trees seemed to press in on her, the branches overhead twisting into unnatural shapes, casting grotesque shadows across the path. Every sound—a twig snapping, the rustle of leaves—made her jump. Was someone there? Or was it just her imagination?
Sin’s stomach twisted with nerves. There was too much at stake. She couldn’t fail now.
Finally, she reached the clearing where Magnolia’s cottage stood. The scent of lavender and mugwort drifted toward her as she approached the door. She knocked, her knuckles brushing the wood softly at first, then harder when no one answered. The door swung open slowly, revealing Magnolia standing in the doorway, her sharp eyes narrowing in suspicion.
Magnolia’s expression shifted the moment she saw Sin, her brows lifting in surprise as she caught sight of the bag and the stilettos within.
“Sin?” she asked, confusion in her gaze. “Why are you here so late? And what is this?”
Sin swallowed hard, her voice tight with desperation. “Please, Magnolia. I need a glamour tonight. A strong one.” Sinnearly dropped the crystal stilettos as she held them up. “These are enchanted, and I need you to bind the spell into them.”
Magnolia’s brow arched as she took the shoes from Sin’s trembling hands. “Where did you get these?”
Sin’s eyes darted away for a moment before meeting Magnolia’s gaze. “I stole them. From Vivienne.”
Magnolia’s eyes widened, shock and disbelief flickering across her face. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
Sin didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. This night was more important to her than living another hundred years as a slave.
