He says nothing, just continues by my side, and when we pass a gilded mirror, I glance at my refection—and then do a double take. My hair’s in perfect, glowing ringlets, even though when I lift my hand, I touch a broken thorn tangled just above my ear. My dress has fewer wrinkles than when I put it on, but the strangest of all is my smile, painted across my face like it’s always there. Like it’s easy.

I immediately know that this is Roman’s doing. Anyone who knows me would see through Roman’s illusion. But nobody here does.

My mind drifts to Reina and Diantha. They knew, of course, about Xander and Aristelle. And they knew who I was from the start. How could they not? The realization stabs me like a well-thrown knife.

“Stop,” I choke out.

“What?” Alarm darts across his features as I glare at him.

At least he sees my actual expression and not the fake smile he’s concocted. It’s certainly not my first fake smile, but it’s the only one that hasn’t been my own doing.

I lurch toward the mirror. In the glass, I lift a perfectly manicured hand, and the bloodied, real thing meets its fingertips.

The glass is streaked with my blood.

He steps forward and pulls a black handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away the blood.

I’m grateful he didn’t just wave a hand and magic the blood away. He could. It’s an odd thing to be grateful for.

“Take it away,” I tell him. I want my troupe to see how they hurt me.

“You need to look strong,” Roman says gently.

He’s right. That’s more important than anything. I swallow and nod.

Roman takes my elbow and gently pulls me onward. He doesn’t let go until we reach the door of the ballroom.

“They’re waiting for you,” he says.

The handle slips in my bloodied hand as I pull the door open.

Four golden platforms rise from the center of the room. Ethan, Nadine, and Willow already stand on three of them. Willow flashes me a nervous smile that slips to an outright frown. She can see through the illusion. She knows me. That fact lifts just a little of the sting. She starts forward like she’ll come for me, but I shake my head. She doesn’t need marks against her on my account.

A hand grabs my wrist. “Where have you been?”

I shake off Xander’s grip and stare straight at him without actually looking up at his face.

He reaches toward me, and I back step into Roman’s chest.

“Ava,” Xander whispers.

Silence. Whispers around us sneak in to fill it.

“Move.” Roman’s voice rumbles against my back.

Xander stands his ground for only a fraction of a second before stepping to the side.