This dream of Stephanie’s had begun similarly to the last one I’d attempted to infiltrate, the school setting unfurling from the darkness of her unconsciousness. She entered through the dissipating void, her attention fixed on something ahead of her—someone. Yet a fleeting scan of the crowd showed no trace of the yellow-haired star of her previous fantasy.

As Stephanie approached, I let the scene unfold as it would, resisting the temptation to take hold of the dream and spin it my way. Instead, I took my place amid the other phantom players, ironically the least phantom among them.

Eyes locked on me where I stood close to one metal-compartment-lined wall, Stephanie gaped at me as she passed. Her steps slowed, retreated, and then abruptly halted in front of me.

We stood but a few feet from one another, and I watched her as she watched me—as the hallway cleared of students and noise far faster than it would have in reality.

At last, her complete concentration had become mine.

I waited, leaving first words to her, for allowing her to initiate our conversation would help to embed me more firmly in her dream. And in her mind.

Her first utterance, though, left much to be desired.

“Uum,” she said. And then nothing more.

Ah. Erik. He had always had this effect on people. On debutants in particular—those elite young ladies of my day. The girls who, each fancying herself the ingénue in a play full of villains, had volleyed against one another to win a more favorable union than her rivals. Which one of them would not have poisoned the other’s punch for but a single dance with Erik?

“Where did you come from?” Stephanie asked, before sending a glance around the vacated hall, as if she’d only just noticed we were alone. Then she gestured to the rapier I wore. “Are you with the drama club or something?”

Her casual demeanor suggested she had yet to realize this was a dream. I had hoped that my dated wardrobe would help hurry that part along.

“Forgive my intrusion,” I said with a small nod. “Though we are not yet formally acquainted, you should know our paths have crossed before. That is why I am here.”

She frowned, her hands clasping tight the strap of her shoulder-slung bag.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “Last I checked, I was the only new student here. Besides, I think I would remember someone . . . British.”

An involuntary smile touched my lips—Erik’s perfect lips. Because, while I was sure I would never know, I assumed my nationality had not been the first word to spring to her mind.

Had I really forgotten how much power lies in beauty? It was a power I missed. And one that apparently held even more sway with Stephanie than I had initially wagered.

My smile faltered, which suggested that some part of me had been secretly hoping Stephanie would prove herself different from the girls I had once known. That she would surprise me.