If you are ever caught among the nobles, simply pretend you’re doing something indiscreet.

There’s only one thing for it: I fling myself at St. Juste, throwing my arms around his neck. Shocked, he stumbles backward, and we land in a heap on the floor.

“Listen to me, St. Juste—we are betrayed,” I hiss in his ear in the few seconds I have.

His eyes widen at my words; then I kiss him and hope desperately that he doesn’t push me away or ask what I’m doing. His arms snake around me, pulling me closer as he kisses me back fiercely. He tastes like coffee and red wine. And I’m pretty sure I hear him growl my name when the balcony doors are flung open and we’re torn apart and dragged to our feet. The spectators below can now see us both, so I use all my strength when I send a sharp slap across St. Juste’s face.

“How dare you, sir!” I say loudly. “Don’t think a few kisses meant I was ready for that.”

St. Juste is dazed. Wincing and confused. The guards drag us out into the corridor while I demand, “Unhand me,” and order, “Take this gentleman back to the ball, where he can try his luck with easier maidens.”

I keep up my flow of dialogue until we’re standing before the queen. My skin crawls with fear. What if she recognizes me? When I look up at Her Majesty, I feign shock and drop to my knees. Behind me, St. Juste follows suit quickly.

“What is this?” she asks.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty. I made the mistake of trusting this gentleman.” My voice is high with histrionics. “I didn’t object to a few friendly kisses, but then he dared to put his hand on my—”

The queen gives me a dismissive wave and I fall silent. Her face is blank, and she barely looks at me. She doesn’t recognize me. I’m painted and dressed in finery as I was two years ago, but she didn’t look at me then, either. All she saw was Ettie. I might as well have been invisible, except to—

The dauphin steps into the corridor. The past two years have been kind to him; he’s still incredibly handsome. Dark hair, artfully disheveled, his muscular frame clothed in a magnificent coat of chocolate velvet and trimmed with bright gold. He looks straight at me, taking in the scene, and turns to his mother.

“You’ll be missed from the assembly,” he says.

The queen lifts a gloved hand to him. “I trust you can deal with this.”

The prince nods. “Oui, my queen.”

The queen turns on her heel and glides down the corridor, back to the ball.

I swallow hard, unsteady thoughts racing through my mind. I keep my head low. Surely the dauphin won’t look closely enough to recognize me. I’m just a random female among the hundreds at the ball.

The prince reaches out his hand.

“Hello, Nina,” he says.