"Allie! There you are!" Sal caught my arm like a dog with his favorite ball, dashing and elated and panicked all at once. "I've told her off!" he exclaimed, steering us toward dancing guests bound to notice a dingy sheep among the jeweled herd. "I think she's proud."

"That's fantastic," I said less vigorously than I meant.

His energy dimmed as he swung me and my dirty dress front into full view. "Prince Niklas?" he asked.

"Where he belongs," I grunted, trying hard not to glare at the swirling lavender pixie that was Annelise in an empire waist dress. She possessed all the poise of a ballerina, and Nik held her close with easy caresses, the way he never could with a foot-conscious dancer like me. When the Prince's eyes met mine, I glanced away, embarrassed.

Sal chewed his lip in indecision, having no doubt seen the new power couple. He knew the type of a dancer—Miss Moody Swamp Thing—he had on his hands. He waved at a linen tablecloth whose intoxicating contents made my stomach roar in anticipation. "Forget dancing. They've brought salmon. Come, I'll grab you some and we can discuss this in a dark corner somewhere."

"Thanks," I began, wistfully glancing at the appetizers, "but you need to leave."

"Allison?"

I shied away from his reach to scan the crowd. "Apologize to your mother and sister. I'll pay them back for the dress as soon as I can." Confusion wrinkled his brow as my elbow nudged him in Helena's direction. "If she wants to kill me, I'll understand."

He squeezed my shoulder, attention drifting from one glitzy dance corner to the next. "Don't make a choice you'll come to regret."

Sal's hawkish turns-of-head quickened my pulse. He couldn't know what I had planned, but I knew he'd swoop down to intercept me in a heartbeat. With a pleading glance at him to stay put, I purposefully strode between dance partners. The music changed to a faster set.

Fears of public speaking and embarrassment condensed into an aching stomach. I stole the wine out of a patron's hand and marched to the stage, all the while stringing together my resolve. By the time Sal arrived his fingers were seconds too slow to catch my dress hem. Mortified, he stood on the bottom stair.

"Allie!" he hissed, "come back." Despite his plea, he threw out an arm to catch a preoccupied security staffer across her chest to stop her from pursuing me. 'No,' I mouthed, remembering to put a wobble in my step. I pushed the guitarist against the lead singer and swaggered up to his microphone stand in the screechy clash.

"Logan Trussell," I announced. "Clean-up, stage right."

My ears buzzed. I went from feigning drunken dizziness to seeing the garden's leonine topiaries sway as heads turned and a hush fell over the crowd. Standing before a group that contained Sal's shock and Helena's disapproving grimace, I realized what a huge mistake I'd made, felt the beginnings of hyperventilation squeeze my throat. This was too public. What was I thinking? I should've hauled off and slapped him on the dance floor.

Shouldering his way on stage, Nik stole some of the spotlight.

My hand shook, but as his feet hit the stairs passion took over. Careful not to waste everything, I brandished the wine glass. "You made a huge mistake rejecting me," I said.

"How many have you had tonight, Al?" Nik whispered, desperately gesturing me side-stage. "Let's call a cab."

I snatched the mike from the stand. Poor feedback sent a high-pitched squeal through our cringing audience. "That's what you're gonna lead with?"

He waved security reinforcements off, grabbed me by the shoulder, and pulled me behind the thunderstruck drummer. I struggled against him, dragging the microphone.

"Let's talk in private," Nik pleaded.

"You've had six months of privacy!" This time, I had ammo. With masked glee I threw the wine in his face and smashed the glass on the floor.

His cheeks turned scarlet underneath the liquid. "Allie."

"It's over, Logan," I continued, half-blubbering, half-giggling the way I'd seen Becky act when she was trying hard to kick a one-night stand out of our apartment the morning after. He tried to talk me down, but still I went on. After mortifying us on a public platform, the least I could do was correct our reputations that the tabloids had ruined. I took a deep breath. "You had your chance. That night when they 'rescued' you, I was ready. I was going to give myself to you."

That much was as honest as any drunken confession could get, and deep down I hope it stung the heart he'd hidden away. If it had, though, I'd never know it, as he held his palm out to me with a stony frown. "Allison, please."

"No." I shushed his lips with my thumb, holding back real tears like Queen Joronn said. "All your chances and you didn't take any. You don't get to say a word now. Not one. This is goodbye."

I made the slap overly dramatic and slow. Security tackled me across the floor. The Queen appeared at the edge of the crowd, clinging to a shocked Annelise. She winked as cuffs slid around my wrists.

Satisfied, I followed every command and let the guards haul me away. With Joronn on my side, I wasn't about to see the inside of a cell. The real threat came from Mom after she read the newspapers tomorrow morning over her breakfast tea. Speaking of food—my stomach gurgled.

I really hoped what the Queen said was true, and that I had dinner waiting.