‘You deserve to be here.’ Evera nodded, looking at her hands and it struck Sapphire that now was the time to ask the question she had been considering for some time. The question that Araxia had grinned at and Sadara had scoffed at, but Sapphire didn’t care. ‘Evera, will you be my bridesmaid?’

The question caught the girl off guard and she took another step closer.

‘I’m sorry. I don’t think I heard your question right.’

Sapphire laughed, standing up and taking the girl’s hand.

‘I asked if you would be my bridesmaid.’

‘But I’m not of noble –’

‘None of that. You are my best friend. That, in itself, is all I need.’

Evera’s eyes watered as she squeezed Sapphire’s hand.

‘I would be honoured.’

Sapphire hugged her tightly.

‘Don’t be too excited. You have to spend time with Sadara and that is enough to ruin any good experience.’

Evera laughed and shook her head.

‘Worth it to stand by your side.’

She spent the remainder of the night greeting guests and wishing them good fortune. She danced a few times, chatted with Araxia and Kip, and fielded questions from overly curious council members.

And when the ball came to a close, she lingered with her parents as she bid each attendee safe travels.

She now stood in her room, unable to look away from her reflection. She was transfixed on the girl looking back at her, who did not seem to fit. The entire night had gone smoothly, and no immediate regrets came to her mind. Still, she felt increasingly unhappy as the minutes passed.

She didn’t want to admit it. She didn’t want to accept that she knew where the growing dissatisfaction was coming from.

She didn’t want to – but she knew.

And as hard as she tried to shut out the thoughts, they lingered, clinging to her – refusing to loosen their grip. It was the same thought she had been wrestling with all night.

She wished Ashes could see her like this.

Her need for the witch’s approval had not receded all night. Not during the many dances or many conversations. Every waltz, every toast, every moment … Ashes lingered. Inescapable.

But as she stared at the crown atop her head, she knew there was no choice. Not tonight, at least, as the grounds were still crawling with staff and guards. She’d never successfully sneak out no matter how thickly the clouds covered the moon.

So, instead, she sat by the window, sketchbook in hand, drawing images of flaming red hair and smirking lips. And trying to ignore the sinking feeling that maybe her choices would never truly be her own.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE