“What time is it?” I muttered to Hanna, sitting up, ready to push myself off the bed.
But I wasn’t in bed.
And Hanna had not woken me.
“Cassius! What are you doing in my room? Papa will have your head if he finds you here.” I blinked hard and used my hands to shield the light away. Why did the room feel so bright?
He knelt beside me, grabbing my shoulders, his fingers sinking in deep.
“Look at me,” he demanded, pushing back my hands. He took hold of my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. His face was deathly pale; a sheen of sweat beaded his brow. He looked terrified.
“Let go of me. That hurts.” I wrenched free from his deathgrip.
Instantly, he jerked his hands away from me. “You’re awake?”
“Obviously. Why are you in here?”
I pushed myself up, wincing. Had I rolled out of bed while I slept? Or somehow fallen asleep on the floor after the ball? My body ached, and as I took a step toward my vanity, a stab of pain shot up my foot.
Lifting the hem of my dress—why hadn’t I changed into a nightgown?—I winced. My feet were raw with bruises and blisters. We really did need to get new shoes before going dancing again.
I froze as the memories came slamming back, hitting me with the force of a storm-swept wave.
The ball.
The bloody massacre at the banquet tables.
The Weeping Woman.
I sank down on the chair as a cry escaped me. The Weeping Woman had been at the ball. Not in my dreams, but actually there, beside me, her long fingers clasped over my wrists. I closed my eyes, struggling to remember what had happened after I sawher.
I’d fainted. But then what?
“Did you help bring me back after I fainted—did you carry me back?” Cassius’s blue eyes were dark with incomprehension. “Did you see me faint at the ball?”
He pressed his lips together, forming his words with care. “Annaleigh, there was no ball.”
It suddenly felt as if the temperature had dropped several degrees, and I pushed back a flurry of shivers. “You didn’t come? I could never find you there. Was the door closed once you caughtup?”
Cassius knelt beside my chair, taking my hands in his. “There was no door to go through. You’ve been in your room all night long.”
I pushed back the tickle of a laugh threatening to escape. “That’s absurd. I was in Lambent. I can tell you anything you want to know about the castle. I was there, and so were Camille and the Graces, and—I was dancing. Look at my feet!”
He glanced at my tattered hemline and blistered heels and nodded slowly.
His silence was infuriating. “How do you explain that if there was no ball? If you didn’t go—you fell asleep or forgot or whatever—just come out and say it, Cassius. I know I was there. We all were. Except you!”
He stood up, jaw tightening, and held out his hand. “I think you need to come with me.”
“Why?”
“Annaleigh, please. You need to see this for yourself.”
With wary hesitation, I followed him out into the hallway. The sconces were at their lowest setting, giving just enough glow to highlight the portraits hanging along the walls. I’d never noticed how my sisters’ eyes seemed to flicker with life, as they did now, following our passage with knowing stares. With a shiver, I hurried after Cassius.
He stopped outside Camille’s room. Her door was ajar.
“What am I meant to see?”
