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She brightens, then dims, seemingly at war with herself. She shakes her head. “I don’t like this song.”

He leans in close to her. “Yes, you do. It’s your favorite.” He holds a hand out to her. “Just one dance. Please?”

I don’t miss the twinkle in her eyes as she huffs an over-exaggerated sigh and slips her hand in his. Carver tosses me a sly wink over his shoulder as he leads her onto the dance floor.

Cress stares after them and says, “I wish Tyl was here.”

“Have you heard from him?” I ask, turning to face her.

“Yes.” She fiddles with the beading on her gown. “He said he’s willing to try, but he’s afraid. King Joal and his propaganda have poisoned him against creatures, and it’s going to take a lot of unlearning for him to realize we’re not the monsters he thinks we are.”

I murmur my agreement. “Will he come to Nightfell, then?”

“I’m to meet him in a few days and bring him back with me,” she says, finally looking up to meet my eyes. “Is it silly that I’m nervous? I keep having this recurring fear that he’s fallen out of love with me now that he knows what I am.”

I hold her gaze. “I promise no one could ever fall out of love with you, Cress. You are the kindest person I know, the most tenderhearted, and Tyl will see that you’re the same female you’ve always been.”

“And if he doesn’t?” she asks quietly.

“Then we poison him and find you a handsome fisherman.”

She dissolves into laughter, and I can’t help but laugh too.

When she snatches a napkin from the table and dabs her eyes, I’m unsure if her tears are from the joke or her fears that Tyl really has stopped loving her.

She sighs. “I think he’ll come around.”

“He will,” I promise and pull her into a tight hug. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

“I should get going,” she says as I release her. “Alyvia wants me to go with her to the Sanctum of the Seven in the morning.”

Dread coils in my stomach at the mere mention of tomorrow.

“I’ll see you there,” I say grimly.

We hug one more time for good measure, and then she vanishes into the crush of creatures.

As soon as Cress is out of sight, familiar, comforting arms wrap around my waist as Quill tugs my back flush against his chest. “Now that you’re alone, I’d very much like to fuck you atop this table, that sofa over there, and against that window.”

I twist in his grasp and grin up at him. “With all these creatures watching?”

The indecency of it sends a jolt of temptation through me.

“You’d like it if they watched, wouldn’t you?” he purrs. My nipples harden against my gown’s silk bodice. “What other fantasies are you keeping from me?”

I rise on my tiptoes and whisper, “I’ve had dirty, dirty thoughts about your illusions.”

His nostrils flare as I drop down onto my soles and smirk up at him.

“Would you like to know what I imagined?” I skate my fingers across the bulge in his pants, uncaring if anyone can see the motion in the dim lighting of the dining hall. His cock twitches from the contact. “Or would you like to show me just how real your illusions can seem?”

Without blinking, another version of us appears in the corner on the other side of the room—Quill in his velvet top and leather pants, candlelight glinting off his polished boots. His muscular arms tighten around my very thin waist as we dance. The illusion is so lifelike, so believable, that some guests murmur acknowledgments to them as they scoot by.

As for us… no one pays us a second glance.

“Well, tiny monster?” His eyes darken. “Table, sofa, or window?”

My core warms. “Window.”