I straightened my shoulders in preparation, and metal shivered around me, falling perfectly into place. Our carriage rattled through the green veil without hindrance. When I looked back from the window, I found Leander’s dark eyes glimmering in that eerie light—and watching me with unmistakable satisfaction.

Every instinct flared in warning.

I bared my teeth in a smile. “Ready?” I asked sweetly.

I didn’t miss the narrowing of his eyes in sudden suspicion at my tone. That’s right, Leander Fabian. Don’t get too comfortable with me.

I’d suspected from the very beginning that he had an ulterior motive for tonight’s invitation. No matter what that secret might turn out to be, it wouldn’t take me off guard. I’d been practicing my own powers all my life.

Tonight, I was ready to use them.

The ballroom didn’t smell of death, which was a neat trick, as it was full of corpses. Undead creatures shuffled through the crowd around the dance floor, holding out platters of unfamiliar delicacies and offering tall glasses of wine that bubbled in a distinctly sinister fashion. Above us arched a high, round ceiling painted with gold-flecked and possibly mystical symbols along with the images of half a dozen implausibly tall and impressive necromancers summoning hordes of wailing skeletons from their graves whilst looking desperately bored.

Worst of all, for some reason known only to the most warped and perverse of necromancers, whoever had decorated this ballroom had also painted a line of ornamental skeleton chickens marching all around the base of the round ceiling. That sight was almost enough to make me scoop up a wine glass after all, despite how ominously the pale green liquid popped and boiled.

The whole room smelled of musk and perfume and far too many bodies crowded far too close together. Hooting, reedy instruments played an eerie, lilting tune somewhere in the distance, while sinister dancers circled the dance floor and a chattering assembly swarmed around them. Needless to say, though, Leander didn’t allow us to blend into the throng.

“Ahem.” Pausing only three steps into the ballroom, he held up one hand—glittering with massive, bejeweled rings I’d never seen on him at home—and cleared his throat.

It wasn’t loud, but every gossiping necromancer and shambling undead minion in the vicinity startled back, their heads whipping around. Whispers flooded in rapidly growing circles, like waves rippling across the room.

“It’s Leander Fabian…Fabian’s here…Fabian!”

I let out a small, discreet sigh. Allies didn’t roll their eyes in public—but really, this kind of reaction could only make him more insufferable.