The next night, Nyx fit the small shifter device onto the roof of her mouth and put her false face back on for the ball. She hated the features Ariadne had given her, but understood why the girl had designed them in such a way.

Though she couldn’t change Nyx’s stature, she’d altered the shape of her face, nose, cheekbones, and lips to soften her expression into one less hawkish, less jaded. A closer look at her eyes would show Nyx’s true personality, but if she kept her gaze cast downward, all people noticed was a tall woman who had been engineered to appear blandly pretty.

They had to move quickly tonight. If they didn’t finish this part of their mission before their covers were blown, they had no future. It was that simple.

Still, Nyx was overly aware of how vulnerable they were, sitting in the loading bay. Security was so tight that it was impossible for her to relax as she, Clo, and Ariadne donned the gowns they had ordered on short notice from the palace’s dressmaker.

Of all the things Novan funds should go to, Nyx thought wryly.

Rhea applied Nyx’s makeup. “The last time I wore makeup,” Nyx said while under Rhea’s ministrations, “I was a guest at a ball on Macella.”

“Yes.” Rhea dabbed a touch of shadow across Nyx’s lids. “I remember. The night that started everything.”

Nyx swallowed.

“You look beautiful,” Rhea said when Nyx didn’t reply. “Even with this face. I can still tell it’s you.”

Nyx looked in the mirror and resisted the urge to curl her lip. “Are you coming tonight?”

“No.” Rhea bowed her head. “I’ve faked too many smiles to do it again.”

—

Nyx held her breath as they again went through security. They were surrounded by their enemies, people of influence in the Empire. The attendees at the royal festivities were considered the best examples of engineering the human race had to offer: most were military, but others were diplomats, governors, regional officers, magistrates, and other officials who kept each planet of the Empire functional for its citizens.

Each woman in Nyx’s group had been taken and analyzed against the identities Ariadne created, and when the handheld machine beeped its approval, everyone’s shoulders relaxed.

<Hard part done,> Eris said through the Pathos. <Good work, Ari.>

As before, no one had commented on the shifters in their mouths; over half the people there would be wearing the same to improve their features or be someone else for the night. Shifters could give their skin that extra glow, or make their eyes shine just that much brighter, their lips that much fuller. Shifters were as much for dramatic effect as the glittering ballroom dresses.