“Oops,” Nia says with mock sincerity, her lips pressed to the side of her glass.

Ivee shoots her a glower oozing such hatred, I feel a chill in my bones. Her skirts swish as she whirls and stomps to the privy. Florence and Aurelia follow in her wake, assuring her they can “hardly notice” the stain.

Do they go everywhere with her? Imagine the three of them all curled in the same bed, snoring in perfect harmony.

Nia winks at me before skipping back to where Nolan waits and leaping on top of him with an exuberant kiss.

I giggle into my…empty glass?

Where did all my cider go?

When I glance back up, fae light flickers across Ronan’s face, making him look positively angelic.

The prince leans in close, bringing with him the scent of cider and citrus. “Have you seen the Black Rose gardens yet, Kerris?” he whispers.

“Not yet.” Truth be told, I didn’t even know there were gardens.

The prince takes my glass straight out of my hand and gives it to Trevor. “Come with me and I’ll show you.” His hand falls over my fingers braced at his elbow as he brings me out a back door and into the moon-kissed night.

This isn’t a garden; this is an entirely new world. One where roses rule and fuchsias abound. Redbrick paths cut through the maze of blooms, with the occasional bench tucked into shadowed alcoves.

“I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as this.”

Ronan plucks a lilac from a branch, twirling the stem between his fingers before handing the flower to me. “And I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you.”

Warmth bubbles in my chest, threatening to spill out in a giggle.

“Tell me about you, Kerris. About life in Gravale.”

Where do I even begin? “The village is small, and the population is aging. Most of those with children have relocated to the towns and cities off the mountains, where the land isn’t as unforgiving.” In Gravale, one wrong step or strong gust of wind, and you could find yourself plummeting to your death.

“That sounds atrocious. No wonder you left. Is your family still there?”

“My older brother Theo moved to Applewood six months ago. But my father loves the mountains, so he chose to remain. He raises goats.” I think he might love the goats more than the mountains. “My mother…” That familiar ache pinches my heart. “She passed when I was five.”

You’d think that after almost twenty years, the heavy weight of grief would have subsided. All it does is burrow deeper into your marrow, rearing its ugly head when you least expect it.

I don’t want to be sad tonight, not when I’m lost in the moonlight with a handsome prince. “Tell me about your family, Prince Ronan.”