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We’d already anticipated that Holden would choose me as his partner for the first part of tonight’s jolly, so I was prepared as he strode toward us, his sheet of hair glistening against the golden backdrop.

“Lady Alissa.” He kissed my gloved hand, the rose-and-thorn key swinging from his neck along with that emerald-inlaid crest. “I’m delighted to welcome you tonight.”

As he released my hand, the pad of my index finger smarted from the cut left by Erik’s thorns, now concealed under my glove. I shuddered slightly, the memory of those thorns having kept my heart palpitating into the early hours.

Petal-stuffed envelopes were common in Daradon during times of celebration, but I couldn’t fathom why Erik had added thorns alongside them. Was it a new initiative, spurred by the simple pleasure of knowing that the recipient would bleed upon reaching for the letter? Or was it a subtle nod to the would-be bride who’d escaped him?

I will find you, Little Thorn.

I shivered again, wishing I could’ve read whatever letter Holden had taken out of that envelope. But I couldn’t let my fear overcome me tonight, with both the Unbreakable Blade and Perla’s freedom at stake.

So I injected my voice with caramel-sweet charm and smiled. “I’m pleased to be here, General.” I glanced up at the golden necklaces. “I’ve never experienced anything like this.”

“And yet you have embraced our traditions so naturally.”

Another element of tonight’s jolly: It required three outfit changes. Earlier this evening, I’d hung my ensembles in one of the individual changing tents now lining the Crater. But for now, in keeping with the faux marriage tradition, I wore a sleek silken dress the color of dandelion fluff, embroidered with golden swirls that scratched my arms whenever I brushed against them.

“We’ll be sad to lose you after the fete, Lady Alissa,” Holden continued, his smile turning oily. “You would make a fine addition to our court.”

My gut twitched with revulsion; even Keil inched closer toward me. But it was Goren who spoke up, surprising me.

“Don’t you have enough Daradonian nobles to play with?” he asked darkly.

Holden’s smile deepened. “Ah, you think I’m being greedy?” He turned, and I followed his gaze to Perla, who’d been watching us in a flouncy white dress of her own.

Holden snapped his fingers to summon her, and we all bristled.

“Very well, Lister,” Holden drawled as Perla arrived. He swept an arm toward her and said to Goren, his voice soaked with amusement, “You may play with her yourself.”

My specter flared with anger as Perla stiffened.

“General?” she asked quietly, her eyes fixed on Goren’s stormy gaze.

Holden laughed again, and I couldn’t stop my hands from clenching. Erik must have known that Holden wasn’t like Banarrat’s previous generals, who’d treated the tribute courtiers with respect. Because in shipping Perla here, Erik had turned her into the very thing she’d spent all of Rose Season trying to avoid becoming: the toy of a vicious ruler.

“A figure of speech,” Holden assured, all smiles. “But of course, you haven’t been introduced. Lady Perla, meet Goren Lister, Ansora’s resident war hero.”

Perla’s eyes narrowed slightly at that last claim before she blinked back into neutrality. “I’m honored to make your acquaintance, Sir Lister.”

“Oh, you can dispense with those formalities.” Holden smirked. “He’s not a knight.”

Goren’s jaw twitched, and I couldn’t tell whether his anger was directed at Perla, whom he probably trusted even less now that he was witnessing her performative meekness, or at Holden, who was making a mighty joke out of them both.

“Well?” Holden looked between them like a sadistic child who’d just set a mouse inside a cage with a python. “Won’t you offer the lady your partnership, Lister?”

Perla brandished a necklace at her throat, strung with a fake blue gem. “I am taken, General,” she said breathlessly, “by the young man in the bronze waistcoat. He’s only gone to fetch a drink, and—”

“And he will understand when you present your new choice of partner. After all, what fool would cross a war hero?”

Perla looked ready to protest again, a shred of her true irritation shining through. Because neither she nor Goren could stand to hold a conversation, let alone hold one another’s hands in an obligatory dance.

But just as Goren opened his mouth to—most likely—eviscerate the general, Keil smoothly interjected.

“Apparently, I would be that fool.” He reached up and detached a necklace from its hook, a falsely bright crystal swinging from the chain. Then, entertaining tonight’s theatrics, Keil extended the necklace to Perla. “My lady, may I steal you from your partner this evening?”

Perla’s eyes darted to Holden, who was watching this show with a little smirk. “Yes, Your Highness.” She took a final glance at Goren, whose stare remained cold on hers, before she replaced her necklace with Keil’s offered chain.

“My commiserations, Lister.” Holden’s smirk sharpened. “Lady Perla makes very agreeable company.”