Page 74 of Wicked Ends
And who could deny her?
I find myself looking forward to the Winter Ball with an anticipation I haven’t felt in decades. Not because I enjoy such events, I’ve attended too many to count, watched fashionschange and social mores evolve, but because I’ll be seeing Rose in that dress again, knowing what lies beneath it, knowing that I helped her choose it.
It’s a small, private triumph, perhaps petty of me, but I find I don’t care. After centuries of existence, I’ve learned to take pleasure where I can find it.
And Rose Smith, it seems, has become a source of pleasure I cannot deny myself.
Thirty-Four
Rose
The Winter Ball transforms the Great Hall into something out of a fairy tale, with obscene amounts of twinkling lights, cascading arrangements of white roses, frosted branches, pale star lilies and silver berries, and glowing blue ice sculptures in every corner. I fidget with the emerald green dress, still not quite believing I’m here with an actual date. First time for everything, I guess. Drake’s hand takes mine as we pause at the entrance, and I have to remind myself that yes, this is real. He’s real.
“Are you alright?” Drake asks, squeezing my fingers gently.
“Better than okay.” I turn to look at him, and he takes my breath away. He’s wearing a perfectly fitted black suit that makes his blue eyes look even more striking. Mrs. Bright conjured it for him, though I’m pretty sure that’s not in her job description. But technically, you could say Drake is still a student? “You clean up nicely, Winstead.”
“You’re not so bad yourself.” His smile makes my heart do a stupid little flip. “That dress is incredible on you.”
“Thank Lucien. He’s apparently an expert in formal wear.” I smooth my hands down the silky fabric. “Still getting used to it.”
“Well, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.” Drake’s gaze is so intense I have to look away, but I think he sees my smile before I hide it.
We step fully into the Great Hall, and immediately I feel eyes on us. Not just because I’m the resident outcast witch, but because, of course, nobody recognizes Drake. The whispering starts almost instantly, heads turning our way, conversations pausing mid-sentence.
Harry and his usual posse are hanging by the punch bowl, and the double-take he does when he sees Drake is too much. His mouth actually drops open, and he elbows his friend so hard the guy spills punch down his white shirt.
“They’re staring,” I mutter.
“Fine by me.” Drake’s voice is carefree in a way I’ve never heard before. “I’ve spent a century being invisible. Having people actually see me is nice. More than nice, really.”
His perspective shifts something in me, and I stand a little taller, taking his hand more confidently. “You’re right. Let’s give them something to stare at.”
We make our way through the crowd, moving between clusters of students in luxurious formal wear. There is music from an actual orchestra, and it is playing something classical that sounds vaguely familiar from movies.
The entire academy is here tonight, except for Jasmine, and I silently thank the universe for small blessings. Thorne’s nowhere to be seen, though her little entourage is huddled in a corner looking uncomfortable without their leader.
We’re about to hit the refreshment table when Harry breaks away from his friends and approaches us. I brace myself for whatever snide comment he’s about to deliver, but to my shock, he’s smiling.
“You look, um, really great.” He gestures at my dress, looking awkwardly earnest. “Green’s a good color on you.”
I blink at him, waiting for the punchline.
“Harry thinks you look hot,” says one of his friends from behind him, and Harry’s ears turn pink.
“Shut up, man,” Harry says without turning around. He extends his hand to Drake. “I don’t think we’ve met. Harry.”
“Drake.” They shake hands, with Harry wincing a little as Drake grips his hand a little harder than he should. I watch in fascination as Harry processes that he’s never seen Drake before.
“Are you new?”
Drake’s mouth lifts up at one corner. “Something like that.”
Harry nods like this makes perfect sense. “Cool, cool. Well, enjoy the ball. Save me a dance later, Rose?”
“Uh… “ I’m still trying to process this bizarrely nice version of Harry as he heads back to his friends. “What just happened?”
“I think you have an admirer,” Drake says, looking amused.
