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Because if you're going to attend The Royal Academy's Annual All Hallows' Festival & Masquerade, you don't buy something off the rack and call it a day.

Not when half the faculty can enchant fabric before breakfast.

The empire waist lifts my tatas gloriously while layers of gauzy green fabric skim my full frame in shimmering, translucent waves.

Not hiding me. Not disguising me.

Celebrating me.

Tiny points of golden light drift through the fabric like fireflies trapped beneath the surface, appearing and disappearing whenever I move.

Effervescent.

That's the word. I look freaking effervescent.

My very dark brown hair falls down my back in loose curls, threaded with tiny gold leaves, and when I catch my reflection in one of the ballroom's enormous mirrors, I actually stop.

Green eyes. Green gown. Curves for days.

Hello, Princess Aggie.

Where the hell have you been all my life?

I'm also aware that several heads have turned my way.

Male heads.

Female heads.

One Minotaur dad walks directly into a decorative column.

I'm counting that as a win.

I slide my gold mask into place and inhale.

Sure, I wish I weren't just chaperoning tonight. It would’ve been nice to have a date.

One particular date.

Shit.

Nope.

We're not doing that.

Grimm is in the past. I have to accept that now. It's been a month.

No phone call.

No explanation.

No mysterious limousine.

No devastatingly handsome man appearing out of nowhere and looking at me like he wants to devour me.

And no Wolf.

That part still hurts more than I want to admit.