Emma
The morning of the ball, breakfast felt louder. Maybe it was just me. Every clatter of plates, every burst of laughter, every time Lucian’s sleeve brushed mine, my brain screamed tonight.
He was as steady as always—asking how I’d slept, telling me some story about a pup who’d tried to steal extra pastries—but underneath it all I could feel the quiet hum of the same awareness that had kept me pacing in my room half the night.
By the time I pushed my plate away, my nerves were fizzing.
“Perfect,” a familiar voice said. “You’re done.”
I looked up to find Thalia on one side, Amara on the other, both wearing matching mischievous smiles.
“Should I be worried?” I asked.
“Yes,” Thalia said. “But it’s the fun kind.”
Before I could argue, she hooked her arm through mine. Amara did the s
