Jade
The scent of hairspray and perfume hangs thick in our room as Evie and I transform ourselves from students into goddesses.
My Persephone costume drapes across my bed—white silk that gradually darkens to midnight black at the hem, pomegranate seeds embroidered in blood-red thread across the bodice.
“Hold still,” Evie commands, wielding the curling iron like a weapon.
Her Athena costume is already perfect—bronze breastplate gleaming, leather sandals laced up her calves, and a toy owl perched on her shoulder that she insists adds authenticity.
“If you keep fidgeting, these curls will be lopsided.”
“Sorry.” I force myself to remain motionless while she works her magic. “Just nervous, I guess.”
Her face softens. “Oliver’s been in such a good mood these past few days,” she says. “He’s been checking his costume like five times a day to make sure it matches yours perfectly.”
Guilt settles heavily in my stomach. “Really?”
“Oh yeah. He lights up whenever someone mentions your name. It’s kind of adorable, watching my socially smooth brother turn into an awkward teenager.
Although I should probably warn you,” she continues, her tone shifting to something more serious, “if he breaks your heart, I’m absolutely taking your side. ”
I startle so much I nearly collide with the curling iron. “What?”
She pulls the hair tool back, out of the danger zone. “I know, I know. You probably think I’d automatically side with family. But I’ve had a front row seat to Oliver’s dating history, and if he hurts you, I’ll personally set his entire wardrobe on fire.”
My throat constricts. Because Evie thinks Oliver is going to hurt me. Sweet, genuine Oliver, who uses his flavor fire to make sure everyone’s food tastes amazing, and who can’t walk past someone struggling without offering help.
“Thanks,” I say, deciding to shift the conversation before I combust from guilt. “Also, thank you for... you know. Not telling anyone I sneak out each night.”
She shrugs, focusing on a particularly stubborn curl. “It was more than worth it to see you kick Garrett’s ass in the Mirror Vault. That arrogant prick had it coming.”
A laugh bubbles up despite my guilt. “He really was blindsided.”
“Literally, thanks to that light trick of yours with the mirrors.” She grins, and I smile at the memory of the shocked look on Garrett’s face when I put that week’s lessons with Logan to work.
“Why are you really helping me?” The question slips out before I can stop it. “Why keep my secret?”
Evie’s hands pause in my hair, and through the mirror, I watch conflict play across her face. For a moment, I think she might tell me the truth—that she can’t fully remember why she’s helping me, that something makes her mind slide away whenever she tries.
“I know what it’s like to need extra help,” she says instead. “To feel like you’re behind everyone else. You needed those extra hours, and I couldn’t let you fail. What kind of best friend would I be if I did that?”
Best friend.
The title sits like a crown of thorns on my head.
“So,” she says, her voice deliberately light, “Felix and Oliver are probably in the common room already.”
The way her cheeks flush at Felix’s name tells me everything I need to know.
“You mean Felix as in your totally-just-a-friend date?” I give her a pointed look. “The one you definitely don’t have feelings for?”
“I told you, we’re going as friends,” she insists, but her hands fidget with her bronze armbands, completely giving her away.
“Evie, come on. You changed your lip gloss three times. You nearly had a panic attack when that seam in your dress wasn’t sitting right. Friends don’t stress that much about how they look for each other.”
“Some friends do,” she protests weakly.
“Friends who are secretly hoping for more than friendship, maybe.”
She groans, sinking onto her bed. “Fine. You win. I like him. Happy now?”
“Ecstatic.” I sit beside her, grateful for a problem that isn’t mine for once. “So, what’s the holdup? Why haven’t you told him?”
“Because it’s complicated.” She picks at her sandal strap. “We have this whole dynamic. Study partners, training buddies. What if I ruin it by wanting more?”
“Or what if you’re already ruining it by pretending you don’t?”
She’s quiet for a moment, and I can see her wrestling with something deeper than just admitting a crush. “You know what the worst part is? Sometimes I catch him looking at me, and I think maybe... but then I convince myself I’m imagining things.”
“You’re not imagining things,” I say firmly. “Trust me. The way Felix looks at you when you’re not paying attention? That’s not a ‘just friends’ look.”
“Really?” Hope creeps into her voice.
“Really. You should tell him how you feel.”
“But what if he doesn’t feel the same way?”
“And what if he does feels the same way, and you’re both just circling each other, too scared to make the first move?”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know.” She shrugs, then snaps out of it. “Anyway, back to you and Oliver. What’s really going on with you two? Because when we were talking about him just now, you seemed…” She pauses, as if searching for the right word. “Unenthused.”
Shit. Evie’s too smart.
I need to get out of this without looking like the bad guy. Which means more lies. Lies on top of lies on top of lies. That’s all my life has been since I’ve gotten to this school.
“It’s been a lot for me since getting here,” I find myself saying. “I’m constantly behind and always overwhelmed, and I’m not looking for anything serious right now. Or exclusive. I don’t want Oliver to think tonight means more than it does.”
Understanding dawns in her eyes, followed by disappointment. “Are you saying you don’t actually like my brother?”
“No! I mean, I do like him. He’s great. It’s just…”
“Just what?” Her voice has an edge now. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you agreed to go to this ball with him, let him plan matching costumes, and now you’re telling me it doesn’t mean anything?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” Her voice is cooler now, protective of her brother. “Just be honest with him, okay? He deserves that much.”
“I know.” The words come out small and pathetic. “I will.”
“Good.” She stands, clearly ready to move past this uncomfortable moment. “Now get dressed. We’re already running late.”
I shrug off my robe and step into the Persephone gown, the silk whispering against my skin as it settles. The gradient from white to black feels like a mockery—as if the costume knows I’m caught between truth and lies. Between the girl I’m pretending to be and the one I really am.
Evie’s fingers are efficient on the zipper as she helps me get into the dress, her earlier warmth not quite returning.
“Evie, I’m sorry,” I tell her, unsure what more to say.
“It’s fine,” she says, but it clearly isn’t. “He just really likes you. Either give him a real chance or cut him loose. It’s not fair otherwise.”
“I know.” The admission burns in my throat as I put on my shoes. “You’re right. I will.”
“Thanks.” She steps back, assessing my appearance. “For what it’s worth, you look beautiful, even if you’re being an idiot about this whole thing.”
Despite everything, a small laugh escapes me. “Thanks. I think.”
“Now, are you ready?” she asks, her hand on the door.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Which is to say, not ready at all.