I'd like to say I woke up gracefully, but I didn't.

When I came to, I rolled a bit too far to the left and faceplanted the bedroom floor.

I let out a groan and opened my eyes, despite the slight pounding in my head.

I felt absolutely ill.

The sound of footsteps forced me to push myself upright. I leaned my head against the bed post just as the door opened.

"Marion? Get up."

Nice to see you, too.

"The ball starts in an hour."

____________________________

I had no time to collect myself.

No time to cope with the fact that I'd been passed out for days. No time to readjust to living.

Because, apparently, June had given me a bit too much in her haste that they'd been afraid I'd be late altogether. Fortunately, I'd woken up just in time.

Unfortunately, I literally had one hour to prepare myself.

I hadn't finished my etiquette or dancing lessons. So, as my makeup was hastily done by a man in his 20's, my buff dance teacher, who preferred to be called "Rob" and not "my dearest professor," ran me through some of the other dances the elites would go through during the night. He also advised me to avoid dancing as much as possible, but if asked, to do my best. It would seem suspicious if I declined to dance with anyone throughout the night. It'd also be extremely impolite, and my goal was to get on the aristocrats' good side.

With fifteen minutes to go, both Rob and my makeup artist hurried out the door to give me privacy. I slid into the green dress, still feeling exhausted...and a little nauseous. As I began shoving my arms into the mesh sleeves, I noticed my wound had been covered in a tan, adhesive to match my skin. I gently touched it and could feel even stitches beneath. I let out a disappointed sigh.

I would deal with that problem later.

I was rushed out the door, June and two bodyguards at my side. It was dark outside, but I could still see clusters of the poor mulling around. June shoved me into the car quickly. We didn't want anyone to see my face or my nice clothes. That would definitely raise an alarm.

To prevent too many issues, the car we took was nondescript. I was transferred to a limo once we'd gotten out of the worst parts of the city.

Even though I hated the rebellion, I was still nervous. After all, if I messed up, my life was forfeit. The government would lock me up and do God-knows-what. Frankly, I'd never heard much about what happened to the worst of the criminals. If they were only wreaking havoc in the poor sectors, Antheia didn't care. And nobody in the rich sectors would bother being reckless and committing crimes – they would never risk their status or lives.

Maybe I'd be tortured to death.

I didn't really want to think about it.

By the time we reached the Mantel, where the ball was taking place, my hands were shaking. There was a crowd of people at the door waiting to be let in. The bodyguard in the passenger seat got out and opened the door for me.

For a second, I felt like I couldn't do it. I couldn't walk out there. There were so many people.

Then, I felt June's hand on my shoulder. "You'll be fine. Seriously. And Hank will be at your side the entire time to make sure you don't do anything stupid."

I took a deep breath and nodded at her. She scooted back into the shadows of the car, as I stepped out into the night.

I'd seen the Mantel plenty of times from afar. I'd even been here a mere week ago for my interview. Still, despite how terrible the people were who worked there, I couldn't help but be stuck in awe at its grandeur. The shadows of the night truly carved it into something more elegant and intimidating. I gently took Hank's proffered hand and got in line with everyone else. Hank showed the guard a ticket, and we were let in without question.

The ballroom wasn't entirely what I'd been expecting.

I'd seen ballrooms before. I knew what they looked like. Vast wooden floors with servers wandering about. Curtains to cover the windows. Sometimes, decorations to make it more homey.

This was something more.

The floors were entirely made of marble painted to depict a scene of large rowing ships with people scattered about. The painted people didn't really look like people, though. They were so geometric as to be barely decipherable. There were curtains; ivory silk was tied back to reveal floor-to-ceiling windows on the two longer sides of the ballroom. In the middle of the ballroom, a grand fountain rose up, water splashing out of carved fish mouths into the basin beneath.

And there were servers...

Each carried a teetering tray of wine glasses filled with a bright pink liquid. Some had appetizers instead. A couple carried deserts. They wore shimmering white dresses and cotton pants.

They were some of the lucky ones. The people who worked in the households and at the parties of government officials usually came from the poor sectors. But because of their job, they become protected from the Winnowing. They and their families were safe. There were many jealous of the servers – but many others who found it cowardly. To me, everyone had a right to do what they needed to survive.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. "Miss, I don't believe we've met." I turned to face a tall, red-headed man wearing a dark gold suit. Immediately, my brain went haywire trying to remember the appropriate response. After a possibly too long second of indecision, I held out my hand and he kissed the back of it.

Okay, this really wasn't that difficult.

"I do not believe we have either," I replied, in a bit of an over-exaggerated formal zeal. Hank elbowed me lightly. I quickly toned it down.

"Well, it's lovely to meet you. You look radiant, Miss..."

"Sardon. Stacy Sardon," I replied with a kind smile. I could handle this.

"Of course. I've heard much about you. Our new senator, huh?" Dimples appeared at his cheeks as he smiled.

I laughed a bit too forcefully. "Yes, I'm really excited to get to work." I realized I'd made a tiny mistake – I'd forgotten to ask his name. "And you are?"

"Antiochus Clark," he said. "Hopefully, soon to be viewed as an ally on the Senate floor?"

I blushed as I realized who I was talking to. Another senator. I should have known. He was one of the people I needed to impress. To dupe.

"Of course," I replied, politely. Definitely not the ally he wanted. "Um...I...look forward to seeing you again," I pushed out, forgetting how to normally converse with people. It was a lot more difficult when you were lying to everyone's faces.

He gave another sweet smile. "You too."

Hank half-dragged me away before I could say anything ridiculous. "You need to get better at this."

"Sorry, Dad," I whispered back, harshly. He gave me a hard glare. I knew what that look meant. It was my life on the line after all.

I took a deep breath and looked around the room once again, trying to take in my surroundings. I just needed to act normal. How hard could that be? None of these people suspected me. They just assumed I was the new senator. No biggie.

I began to gain more traction with the way of things as the night went on. I followed etiquette – allowed plenty of middle-aged men to kiss my hand, exchanged pleasantries, took drinks whenever offered (but didn't drink too much as June had requested). Hank stopped elbowing me every conversation.

After a couple more uncomfortable encounters with elites who felt the need to stroke my dress to really "feel the material," I began presenting Hank as my fiancé. I kinda hoped nobody would question how he looked at least a decade older than me.

These people had probably seen worse.

I had a couple more drinks. They made dealing with the aristocrats a bit easier.

Frankly, I couldn't stand them. If only I'd had my bow and arrows... I mean beating them up was also an option, but I truly didn't want to mess up the dress. It was too pretty to get blood splattered on it.

Not only were they overly fake polite, but each of their names had to be weird and complicated. From Achelous to Octavius and Agape... There was no way in hell I'd remember any of them. Fortunately, Hank was paying attention, likely aware of how detrimental a memory slip could be.

Eventually, I began to tire out. All I wanted to do was tear off the dress and face plant a couch. I doubted that'd be approved of in June's laws of etiquette.

But frankly, screw June's laws of etiquette. I was kind of pissed at her still. Maybe a little more so than I was letting on. She had forcefully put me into a semi-coma. Even though I'd deserved it...

Somebody tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned. Hank grabbed my arm, but I assumed it was to keep up the fiancé charade.

It wasn't.

I immediately smiled, a little too brightly. Tried to fix my hair.

Oh crap.

Oh crap crap crap.

Nope.

Standing in front of me was none other than Darius Adamos.