How hard can one dance possibly be?
JADE
The scentof hairspray and perfume hangs thick in our room as Evie and I transform ourselves from students into goddesses.
My Persephone costume drapes across my bed—white silk that gradually darkens to midnight black at the hem, pomegranate seeds embroidered in blood-red thread across the bodice.
“Hold still,” Evie commands, wielding the curling iron like a weapon. Her Athena costume is already perfect—bronze breastplate gleaming, leather sandals laced up her calves, and a toy owl perched on her shoulder that she insists adds authenticity. “If you keep fidgeting, these curls will be lopsided.”
“Sorry.” I force myself to remain motionless while she works her magic. “Just nervous, I guess.”
Her face softens. “Oliver’s been in such a good mood these past few days,” she says. “He’s been checking his costume like five times a day to make sure it matches yours perfectly.”
Guilt settles heavily in my stomach. “Really?”
“Oh yeah. He lights up whenever someone mentions your name. It’s kind of adorable, watching my socially smooth brother turn into an awkward teenager. Although I shouldprobably warn you,” she continues, her tone shifting to something more serious, “if he breaks your heart, I’m absolutely taking your side.”
I startle so much I nearly collide with the curling iron. “What?”
She pulls the hair tool back, out of the danger zone. “I know, I know. You probably think I’d automatically side with family. But I’ve had a front row seat to Oliver’s dating history, and if he hurts you, I’ll personally set his entire wardrobe on fire.”
My throat constricts. Because Evie thinks Oliver is going to hurt me. Sweet, genuine Oliver, who uses his flavor fire to make sure everyone’s food tastes amazing, and who can’t walk past someone struggling without offering help.
“Thanks,” I say, deciding to shift the conversation before I combust from guilt. “Also, thank you for... you know. Not telling anyone I sneak out each night.”
She shrugs, focusing on a particularly stubborn curl. “It was more than worth it to see you kick Garrett’s ass in the Mirror Vault. That arrogant prick had it coming.”
A laugh bubbles up despite my guilt. “He really was blindsided.”
“Literally, thanks to that light trick of yours with the mirrors.” She grins, and I smile at the memory of the shocked look on Garrett’s face when I put that week’s lessons with Logan to work.
“Why are you really helping me?” The question slips out before I can stop it. “Why keep my secret?”
Evie’s hands pause in my hair, and through the mirror, I watch conflict play across her face. For a moment, I think she might tell me the truth—that she can’t fully remember why she’s helping me, that something makes her mind slide away whenever she tries.
“I know what it’s like to need extra help,” she says instead. “To feel like you’re behind everyone else. You needed those extra hours, and I couldn’t let you fail. What kind of best friend would I be if I did that?”
Best friend.
The title sits like a crown of thorns on my head.
“So,” she says, her voice deliberately light, “Felix and Oliver are probably in the common room already.”
The way her cheeks flush at Felix’s name tells me everything I need to know.
“You mean Felix as in your totally-just-a-friend date?” I give her a pointed look. “The one you definitely don’t have feelings for?”
“I told you, we’re going as friends,” she insists, but her hands fidget with her bronze armbands, completely giving her away.
“Evie, come on. You changed your lip gloss three times. You nearly had a panic attack when that seam in your dress wasn’t sitting right. Friends don’t stress that much about how they look for each other.”
“Some friends do,” she protests weakly.
“Friends who are secretly hoping for more than friendship, maybe.”
She groans, sinking onto her bed. “Fine. You win. I like him. Happy now?”
“Ecstatic.” I sit beside her, grateful for a problem that isn’t mine for once. “So, what’s the holdup? Why haven’t you told him?”
