Instead, I was trapped in a dark, stuffy space as loud music and chatter covered up my hyperventilation.

Finally, mercifully, I was set back down on solid ground.

“You look like shit,” Rosalind said, unzipping the bag all the way.

I raised a hand over my squinting eyes, the light above golden and oppressive. The air smelled of soap and perfume.

“Private powder room,” she explained.

I lowered my hand and dragged myself out of the bag. My joints were aching, my neck and spine screaming as if I’d knocked something out of alignment.

My hands met the white marble with gold veins in front of us. I slowly raised my gaze from the counter to the mirror, head spinning and vision going in and out.

I confirmed that Rosalind was indeed correct about my appearance. My long, dark waves were matted to my head and tangled. There was an unsavory puffiness to my eyes from all the crying. My skin was duller than I remembered, and for the first time I noticed how much weight I’d lost.

“I can fix you,” Rosalind said with calm certainty, placing her hands on her hips and nodding.

I lifted a brow. “Good luck.”

“Don’t need luck,” she said. “Open up, baby girl.”

She uncorked a bottle of liquid I recognized instantly. It would appear that Brennan had agreed to shell out a drop of his vast wealth to heal me. How very noble and generous.

Or maybe Kole had. Both men thought I was here for them and not the other. Which was a charade that couldn’t be kept up for long.

I chugged the potion.

“Now sit.” She pointed to the stool beside me, adorned with white fur.

I let Rosalind go to work while the potion took effect. She, of course, was perfect and glamorous—so at least one of us had gotten to make a grand entrance. Her blonde curls were tighter tonight, and her lips were painted a shade of coral that reminded me of the clouds at sunset. Her dress matched her lips. Bunches of tulle covered a short, fitted gown that was silky and revealing.

She brushed out my own hair first before pinning it up and brushing through the ice blonde wig. It was a bob, much shorter than I’d ever cut my hair before. It fell an inch above my shoulders, straight and shiny.

The color made me think of Snow. Chills swept over my skin, and I smiled, imagining seeing my best friend again. The woman who taught me how to love myself the way I’d always deserved, the love that had kept me alive and fighting even when I thought Rune hated me.

I understood now that self-love was the love that had always mattered most, from which all other love rippled.

Rosalind stopped applying blush to my fair skin. “Are you thinking about Rune?” she whispered.

“No,” I said, my hands trembling now—with love and fear and heartache and hope. “I’m thinking about Snow. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

Rosalind’s features hardened in a way that frightened me. She continued applying my makeup in silence, and soon, my strength mostly returned. My body still hurt all over from Durian’s merciless assaults and being stuffed in a duffle bag, but at least I could stand without falling.

I saw a whole new person in the mirror. My blue eyes complimented my icy hair, making me appear like a goddess of winter. Rosalind had expertly disguised my tiredness and puffiness, and my succubus powers could do the rest. I consciously tapped back into my magick, coaxing it from its dormancy after Durian had beat it down. I was out of the castle. I was so close to freedom I could taste it sweet and cool on my parched tongue.

“I can’t go with you,” Rosalind said suddenly.

I froze. “Why not?”

I thought I’d convinced her. I didn’t understand why she still clung to her life with these vampires, who only kept her around for entertainment. Or worse, for future subterfuge. I knew she thought they offered her protection, but I’d made it clear Rune and the turned would offer the same without her having to give anything in return.

“Better the devil you know than the one you don’t,” she said. “Cliché, but true.”

I tried not to get frustrated with her, swiveling on the stool to look up at her. “I can assure you that in this case, that is far from the truth. Forget trusting the turned. Don’t you trust me?”

Rosalind’s eyes darted back and forth between each of mine. She was scanning for something she might never find. Not when her judgment was eclipsed by fear.

“You said you were going to help them—the other slaves. Instead, you’re only saving yourself,” Rosalind snapped.