I slither my way along the perimeter of the mingling guests, Sigvard on my heels. Once or twice, he even steps on my train, and I have to grab the wall for support. We near the doors to the ballroom, and over the din, I hear a guard speaking.

"I'm sorry, but this invitation is invalid."

Beyond the guard blocking the doorway, there's a woman in a light-gray ball gown. The skirt fluffs outward with fine tulle layers, just enough to contrast the slender, jeweled and feathered bodice. The same gems, diamonds and rubies, glitter around the milky-white feathers on her mask. The animal clicks into place not a moment too soon. She's a swan.

I rush to the guard. "I invited her."

The guard glances between us, then searches the room for a second. Whatever she was looking for, she couldn't find it. "Fine."

I pull Odeia to the side, away from prying eyes and ears. "You look gorgeous," I say.

"Really?" She brushes a few strands of her platinum hair aside. "I had to embellish the gown I found. I hope the stitches on the skirt aren't too uneven."

"Not at all."

Odeia glances around, a frown creasing her face. "Why are there only princes here?"

My, she's observant. It took me at least an hour to reach the same realization.

"That's what I want to know. I was just on my way to find someone who might have the answer."

"Your highness," a voice cracks behind me.

My eyes shut for an instant to get the strength to face the boy behind me. Right now, I just want to enjoy the party with Odeia. I feel like I might go insane dancing with another prince.

Then again, they must be going insane, too. I'm the only girl to dance with, and all these young men must be beyond bored.

A prince in black pushes his way toward us, eyes fixed on Odeia. She's about to become the next target. I suppose I can always talk to her later. Besides, she probably wants to dance at least a little bit.

"Yes," I say, turning around. The voice-crack boy glitters in gold—from his long, blond hair to his floor-length jacket.

"I was wondering if you would dance with me," he says.

"Sure." I face Odeia again, about to tell her that we'll talk later, but she's already gone.

A ballad lilts in the air, and before I know it, I'm amongst dancing couples. I search for Odeia as we whirl through the room, but more dignitaries crowd the room's center, squeezing in a couple dances before midnight. I barely respond to the prince's questions. Our feet shuffle us between fluffy gowns. The dancers bottleneck at the stairs, and when the prince draws away to spin me around, my heel plants on a dress. I stumble, there's a flash of blue, and before I hit the ground, an arm stabilizes me.

"Are you alright?"

I glance at the person who's caught me, and to my shock, it's Sewale who releases my elbow. He wears a royal blue suit with feathers to match Clemaina.

"Watch where you're going!" Where Sewale is, there Clemaina shall be also. Sewale gives a slight nod to me before Clemaina wraps her arms around his neck, a tapeworm clinging onto his neck.

The voice-crack boy and I resume dancing, though slower than before. Not much later, someone asks,

"May I cut in?" The voice-crack prince pulls back, and I find myself face to face with a smiling boy with golden skin and dark, tapered eyes. It's the boy from the marketplace, from the Eastern Isles. He wears a long black robe with red flames on the sleeves that flicker up to his shoulders.

A smile crosses his square jaw. "Hello, Princess Aylo."

"H-hello," I stammer. He takes my hand, and my feet resume the same sequence as before. All those lessons paid off as I move on autopilot. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I expected you," he says.

"Oh?" I clear my throat. "I'm sorry, I don't believe I ever caught your name."

"Prince Myro of the Eastern Isls."

"Oh." Heat burns my cheeks, and his grin widens.

"There is no need for embarrassment, I'm glad you didn't realize. And I'm glad I got to meet you before tonight."

I nod, though my mind whirls. What am I missing here? This single question gnaws at me. If I don't get answers, it'll whittle me to my core.

I grapple for conversation. "What's your costume?"

"I'm a dark dragon. And you?"

"A snake." I chuckle nervously. "I was already wearing green, so I figured it was the easiest choice."

"The same occurred with me. I was already wearing black, and it was easy to add flames onto the sleeves."

A fog seeps into my mind. I flounder for words that will lead to explanations.

"So you planned to meet me?" I ask slowly.

"Yes, you're the reason I came. If I were to guess, you're the reason we all came."

"To the ball?"

"To Saursi." He searches my face, but I don't feel present. I don't feel anything. "Are you surprised?"

"I...guess."

"No one told you?"

My palms feel sweaty against his skin, and I hope he isn't too grossed out. My heart beats quicker, too.

"Told me what?" The syllables catch on my tongue, coming out languid.

"Your father asked us all here about a month ago. He was looking for a suitor for you, one of royal blood."

I stop moving, and a couple bump into us. They apologize and move on, but I can't. My muscles have hardened in place.

Myro's worried face appears before me. "Aylo? Are you alright?"

"What?" I press my eyelids down, then fling them back open. Give me strength. "I-I mean no, yes."

"I think we'd better keep dancing," he says. "We're blocking the way."

Sweat beads on my forehead. I force my feet to keep up, but I feel lightheaded. What has gotten into me?

"Aylo, you don't look so good. Do you need to sit down?"

I shake my head, and we drift toward the refreshment tables. He spins me around lightly, churning my stomach. Nausea rouses in my belly, acid in my throat. Perhaps I didn't eat or drink enough earlier.

"I didn't mean to shock you," Prince Myro says. All mirth has fled his eyes, replaced with deep concern.

"I'm fine," I slur. My heart won't slow down. I can feel it pumping in my chest, up and down, up and down, like it's about to break through my skin. "I'm just a tad tired. I don't think I ate today. It's been a late night."

Myro nods. He pulls back, though his hand doesn't release mine. "Let's get you some food."

He half drags me through the crowd. My ankles wobble in my heels as I try to keep up. Myro ends up taking both my arms to keep me upright. My pulse drills into my skull, vibrations shuddering through my flesh, burrowing in my bones. The people fade; only a few people linger at the hall's edge. Among them, Uncle Rothbart, Duke Von Stein, and Duchess Tolmeizer murmur to each other, gazes distant.

I turn my head, my eyes landing directly on Odeia. She flows through the crowd, dancing like she's on air with one of the older-looking princes. A few others gather on the sidelines, ready to swoop in for a dance when the song ends.

"I don't know how she got an invitation," Duke Von Stein murmurs as I pass.

"Very strange indeed," my uncle agrees.

A glass appears in my hand, and I pour the pink liquid down my throat. It sloshes in my stomach, fuel to the nausea. I clutch my stomach and stumble to a nearby couch, my head rolling back against the backing. It feels so good to rest, to let my muscles melt into the soft cushions, to let my eyelids cover my vision.

"Aylo? Aylo, are you okay?"

Blood pumps through me, though it makes me more exhausted than energized. I'm burning up, and if I weren't so tired, I'd ask for some ice to drink.

"Aylo?"

"Aylo?"

A thousand voices call my name. Distinct cries gel into one, fade into an echo.

Aylo.

It braids with the air and gentle music, a lullabye sending me off to sleep.

Aylo.

It grows distant, dissolving into a far-off galaxy, until all I feel is a single beating drum.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

It's the hammering of my heart. A final beat resounds before all goes still.