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Was it odd that she’d rather work on a murder investigation than attend a school ball? She began to rip out the pins, releasing her curls. How many pins had she used? She cursed herself, pulling the rest out one at a time.
Her teenage self would have used white spells to do all of this. It would be simpler, but she was still wary of using magic when not necessary.
She moved her curls to one side. No, that looked weird. Maybe if she tied them back? Also horrible. It all made her start to sweat, and she hadn’t even entered the ballroom yet nor met her date. Pretending to be reasonably happy in front of Ella was difficult enough without throwing in someone else who would be asking her questions about herself. Surely he’d be interested in her time in Yharvan and how she ended up in Dark Magic—neither topic one she wished to discuss.
And she would have to ask him questions even though she didn’t want to know anything about this person. What do people ask on dates?
“That’s as good as it’s going to get,” she said to herself, and then made her way to the meeting spot to find her friend.
Ella and Oliver waited outside the main entrance of Ivercrest, talking to a tall man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, whom she vaguely recognized. She wanted to run back to her room and lock the door. Instead, she plastered a smile on her face and greeted them.
“Mira, I think you’ve met Sebastian before,” Oliver proclaimed, dressed in a fine tux.
“It’s nice to see you again,” Sebastian said. “You look beautiful.”
“You too. I mean…not beautiful…you look dapper.” Dapper? That’s the word she went with?
He chuckled, defusing the awkward interaction. “Should we get inside? It’s freezing out here.”
He held out his arm for her, and she placed hers on it. The walk to the ballroom seemed endless.
“Ella tells me you are a healer?” she asked.
“Yes. I hear you are, too.”
Even hidden below her glove, she felt her Shadowflame move in protest. “Well, I used to be during the war.”
“Your friends were telling me you are tremendously talented.”
Did the hallways elongate? Why were they not at the ballroom yet? She wished she could blame Sebastian for this feeling in her stomach. For the tightness in her chest. But by all accounts, he seemed to be perfect. He kept asking her insightful questions about healing and never pressed an issue she seemed uncomfortable with. Mira wished she could find some fault with him. Anything to explain why she felt the way she did. Why she wanted to run.
Classical music danced along the hallway the closer they got. Mira’s dress felt too tight around her ribs, which was impossible because it was magic tailoring.
Large ornate doors swung open, and they entered the ballroom with its fluted columns and gold accents. Old mirrors covered the walls, and although they were hazy, they reflected the crowd of women in beautiful gowns and men in fancy tuxes.
The first dance hadn’t begun yet, and people mingled with their glasses of Goldwine in hand.
Mira felt so out of place, it made her skin itch. Everyone seemed so happy. They smiled, laughed, and drank. It was as if she had just entered a dimension where the war had never happened. Where all that loss and suffering had never occurred. How did she fit in with that?
Her date smiled at her. “Can I tell you a secret? I hate social gatherings.”
“Oh good. I thought I was alone.” She spotted Amelia, Harrington, and Evren and was fairly certain they hadn’t rented their outfits, which looked to be out of her price range—by a lot. Dawson was nowhere to be seen. Would he attend? Would he bring a date?
Sebastian took in the crowd. “This is a terrifying sight. I’m much more comfortable surrounded by books and vials. I think that’s why I went into healing in the first place. Helping others, yes, but knocking people unconscious in order to work in silence is the real reason for going into the field.”
She laughed and silently wanted to curse him for having the audacity to be funny. In another life, she might have really liked him, which made it all the more unbearable.
“I’ll just go freshen up real quick,” she said, and made her way to the nearest bathroom.
Locking the stall, she pulled out the small vial of gavisus potion. It supposedly made you happy. Only for three hours, but by then she would leave. For those blissful three hours, she would not be a burden to the people around her. She would be normal.
The potion tasted bitter, and she grimaced after she downed it. Then she returned to the ballroom. The gavisus would take fifteen minutes to kick in.
The first dance was about to start. Women lined one side of the ballroom, men the other.
“May I?” Sebastian asked, his hand outstretched.
Her scar pulsed under her long glove. Reluctantly she placed her hand in his, and he pulled her to the dance floor. The violinists played a waltz, and although she barely remembered the steps, he pulled her along with ease.
