I see her first.
She stands at the top of the steps, and she’s shining like a fucking star. Heads begin to turn.
How could they not? My breath catches inside my throat as she glances down.
Uncertain.
I push through the crowd, not bothering to apologize as I shove people out of my way. I can see others moving towards her, too, and I have no intention of letting any fucker near her.
Especially when she looks like that.
The dress shines under the light. Almost blue, almost silver, it glints in the light, layer upon layer of crystals catching and sending light shimmering in every direction. And as she raises her dress slightly to walk down, I see the shoes.
The familiar, glass, heeled shoes.
The silver lace on her face doesn’t hide her trepidation as she catches sight of me at the bottom, waiting. I glance away, my eyes landing on a male with entirely too much fucking lust in his eyes.
“Move away,” I say in a bored tone. “Now.”
He leaves. Quickly.
And I’m there to meet her, my hand held out as she slips one delicate, silver glove into it. Stasi blinks up at me. “How much trouble am I in?”
I turn us, smoothly moving back into the crowd. “Enough that we might have to spread the punishment over several… sessions.”
I hear her gulp even over the orchestra. “Oh. Well… Rafe bought my dress.”
I groan. “Of course he did. And I assume Ellen was his partner in crime?”
“It’s not her fault,” Stasi says quickly. “Don’t blame her.”
“Oh, I’m not.” I draw her out onto the dance floor. “I’m going to give her a raise.”
Stasi blinks at me as I bow.
“Dance with me, Anastasia,” I say softly. “I want to dance with the most beautiful woman in the room.”
And her eyes light up. She curtseys, perfect motion.
And then we move. She’s starlight and fire in my arms, and she laughs as I spin us. “I didn’t know you could dance.”
“My father made me take lessons. I’ve never appreciated it more.”
And we dance, to the sound of her laughter. I can feel eyes on us, inquisitive, looking at her. And as the song draws to an end. I take her hand in mine, moving to a door and nudging her through it. “Where are we going?”
“We’re here for a reason,” I say quietly. “So you may as well get the full experience.”
She sucks in breath, as I pull open another door and nudge her through it. Kit and Rafe turn, and Crispin throws up his hands. “Oh, perfect.”
“Crispin,” I drawl. “Mind your manners when you speak to my future wife.”
He stops. “What?”
Kit and Rafe draw Stasi back, keeping her between them as I approach. “We seem to have a little issue.”
Crispin swallows. “Do we? I don’t quite recall – if you could jog my memory—,”
I lean in. “The problem, is that your future wife is a liar. A liar, and a fraud.”
Crispin draws himself up. “Now, see here, Silas—,”
I grip his throat. His Adam’s apple bobs beneath my hand as he swallows.
“You will listen to me,” I say coolly. “Nod if you understand.”
He nods.
“Ella Cooper is a liar,” I say softly. “Anastasia was telling the truth. You have been deceived by a pretty face. Not for the first time, but you may come to regret this one.”
I release him, and he massages his throat. “And why… why is that?”
“Because I’m calling in your debt, Crispin,” I say shortly. “All of it. Every penny.”
For a moment, I wonder if he might faint. He reaches out, staggering before he finds a chair and drops into it. “Now, then, Silas, let’s talk about this like grown men.”
“Indeed.” My voice is cold. “There is one option to stop this. It makes you the one in charge, Crispin.”
He brightens a little. “Really?”
“For tonight,” Rafe drawls behind me. “Don’t get too excited, Crispy.”
When I tell him, I’m not expecting his response. His face actually… brightens. “So I don’t have to marry Ella after all?”
I’m fairly certain that we all have matching expressions of disbelief on our faces.
“No,” I say drily. “Not if you do exactly as we tell you.”
He doesn’t seem to be disappointed. And when we leave, he offers Anastasia his arm.
“My apologies for the mix up,” he murmurs to her. “We’ll get this sorted out in a jiffy.”
We walk out into the main hall. And as people see Stasi, holding gingerly to Crispin, the whispers start up. In a sweeping, growing wave that moves across the room.
Right to where Ella is seated, a plethora of adoring, empty-headed men in front of her.
Her eyes lock onto us as Crispin murmurs to a footman. She stands, and sweeps towards us in her bronze silk down. “Crispin? What’s the meaning of this?”
Her voice is shrill. I’m sure Crispin shudders before he takes the microphone from the footman, holding it to his mouth.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announces. “I beg your attention for a moment.”
The orchestra cuts out, all faces turning to us. And people step back, creating a space for us, with Ella opposite. She’s squinting at Anastasia, standing tall beside Crispin.
And we spread out to flank them.
“Thank you.” Crispin smiles. “I’m afraid that I have a rather… difficult announcement to make.”
His words send the people in the room into a whispering frenzy, and he raises his arm for quiet.
“It has been brought to my attention,” he says gravely, “that we, the Crown, and the public of Sorelle have been gravely misinformed.”
The one thing Crispin has in his favor is his ability to hold a crowd. Everyone hangs on his words, total silence spreading.
“It grieves me greatly to say it,” he says gravely, “but Ella Cooper, you are under arrest.”
Silence. Total, shocked silence, as heads turn to Ella. Then towards Anastasia. And the ripples begin again.
Ella Cooper stands there with her mouth open. “What?”
“You are under arrest for fraud and false representation to the crown,” Crispin says in a sad tone. “You have lied to us, Ella. Lied to me. Blamed your sister, when in fact it was you all along.”
And Ella turns towards Stasi, her face lighting in realization. “Oh, you little bitch.”
The crowd begins to titter at her tone, and Ella glances around. Her face crumples. “Crispin. Please. I love you. You can’t possibly believe her.”
“New evidence has come to light,” Crispin says sagely. And then glances to us, his eyes widening in panic.
But Anastasia is ready. She steps forward and turns.
Showing her bare, scarred back to the room.
Gasps ring out, and even Ella’s eyes widen as she surveys the damage. When she steps forward, we’re there, blocking her from getting any closer.
“You’re not touching her,” I say softly. “Not ever again.”
She scoffs. “This is ridiculous. Anastasia, tell them.”
Stasi stays silent. And then—
“I’m sorry, Ella,” she says, her voice ringing out. “But I must not tell lies.”
Ella screeches, but we’re already walking away as guards slip past us.
“Home, then?” Stasi asks.
I hum. “Seems a shame to waste a good party. The orchestra will start back up in a minute. Crispin won’t want to waste it.
As if on cue, a waltz rings out.
Rafe holds out his hand. “My dance, I believe.”
