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Perhaps it had been a useful Damenspende gift after all.

It took some effort and awkward shifting along the way, but Margaret had never been averse to hard work in the service of scientific knowledge. In just over five minutes, she was able to safely confirm that, huddled together beneath the outspread cloak with the scent of Amalie’s perfume hanging heavy around them, both women were rendered invisible from all angles.

“Fascinating,” she breathed as she gazed into the tiny mirror.

“Ahem.” Amalie cleared her throat. “If you wouldn’t mind stepping off the hem of my gown?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Margaret hastily shifted position, relieved to see that it didn’t affect their lack of reflection. “And now—wait one moment.” Slipping out from beneath the cloak, she scooped up the wine.

“I wouldn’t drink that,” Amalie said warningly.

“Nor I.” Shaking her head, Margaret tossed the liquid into the nearby plant pot. “There, etiquette’s been followed. Now, time for our investigation!”

Maneuvering through the first door, sideways, was a challenge in itself. As they emerged into the next room, just before the door that led to the ballroom, Amalie said breathlessly, “May I ask who it was, exactly, who manhandled you out of the room in the first place? He looked strangely familiar.”

“Unfortunately, he’s never been polite enough to introduce himself,” Margaret said sourly. “He must be an imperial equerry, though, considering the sash he wears. Perhaps you’ve seen him with the emperor at the opera house?”

“No-o-o...” Amalie drew out the word. “I have never seen them together, but I’ve seen his face somewhere before, I’m certain.”

“Hmm.” Margaret shrugged. “Well, do keep an eye out while we’re in the ballroom. We’ll have to make haste to get back before him once the waltz is finished.”

Holding her breath, she nudged the final door open by just a crack...and then, step by step, the two women jointly maneuvered their slow and careful way into the ballroom.

...Just in time. As the door closed behind them, Margaret caught sight of a familiar, tall and broad-shouldered figure stalking past with a polite smile on his lips but a decidedly grim look in his light brown eyes.

“Hsst!”

Any human man would have missed her soft alert under the roar of the crowd and the orchestral music. Fortunately, Lord Riven hadn’t been human for centuries. He jerked around, eyes widening...and then hesitated as he scented the air. “Madam Amalie?” he murmured.

“And me,” Margaret whispered back.

“Aha.” He visibly relaxed, his polite smile becoming real. Shifting one hand before him to subtly test the air, he shifted to lean against the wall, facing towards her and Amalie in their shared cloak. “I was just hunting for you, my dear. You missed our waltz.”

“Already?” Margaret could have wept with vexation. “We tried so hard to hurry⁠—”

“Not that one. You’ve not fallen behind yet.” He gestured discreetly to the dancefloor, where the dancers were, in fact, all whirling in a cheerfully non-supernatural waltz. “Still, you had me worried. What’s led to this change of plans?”

“She was captured,” Amalie said before Margaret could answer.

“What?” As Lord Riven abruptly straightened away from the wall, telltale red sheened over his eyes.

“It was nothing!” Margaret said hastily. “Nothing for you to worry about, at any rate. I’ll tell you all about it later.”

“Actually, I’d rather like to hear the full story now.” His voice was soft enough not to be overheard, but its edge was unmistakable. “I vividly recall being assured that you would be in no danger if we separated.”

“And I wasn’t!” Ignoring Amalie’s soft hum of disagreement, Margaret continued, “Madame Amalie came with me, so there was a witness at all times. And I did try to summon you before we left the ballroom, just as I’d promised, but he wouldn’t allow it, so...”

“‘He,’” Lord Riven repeated softly. His eyes narrowed as he turned to survey the room. “Was this the same man who led you out of the ballroom last time?”

“She didn’t go willingly,” Amalie said. “He laid hands upon her and made threats.”

“Oh, did he?” Lord Riven’s voice lowered to a dangerous rasp. “Why don’t you point out the gentleman in question to me now?”

“Because there is no time!” Margaret hissed. The current waltz was already coming to an end with an exuberant flourish, and she and Amalie still stood halfway across the wall from the orchestra. “I swear we will talk through all of the details later, but just now, we need to move—and if you keep us company all the way, you may well draw unwanted attention.”

“Then perhaps I may finally meet the gentleman who’s taken such an unfortunate interest in my wife,” said Lord Riven with deceptive mildness.

Ugh. She knew that determined glint in his eyes all too well.