My friend is standing alone near the bar, stuck between the dance floor and the wall of courtiers chatting next to the banquet tables. The crowd parts for me as I head over to him.

“Hey,” I offer him a small smile. “I missed you in the first row. I saved a seat for you. Why didn’t you come?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I couldn’t sit with you,” he answers quietly.

I eye him up and down, only now noticing the sunken dark circles under his eyes. “What happened yesterday during dinner? You look like you haven’t slept at all.”

“Oh, it was lovely,” he says, snapping out of whatever miserable gutter his mind was stuck in. “Your brother is very wise and generous.”

“Are you sure nothing happened?” I say, surprised by the formality of his answer. The dancers can’t possibly be listening to our conversation, and the people sitting at the tables are all chatting loudly. Unless Lucas is worried about Alec… “Will you go and fetch me a glass of wine, Mr. Beaumont?”

Alec opens his mouth, and I’m sure he’s about to refuse, but he forces his jaw closed and obeys with a curt nod.

I smile from ear-to-ear, turning back to Lucas. “We can speak freely now.”

“No, really. Nothing happened. I just didn’t sleep very well. Ate too much,” he adds with a guilty wince, patting his stomach discreetly.

“Looks like you’ve finally outgrown those clunky pigtails, Lil’ Bit.”

The familiar voice freezes both of us into silence, and my teeth grit together, my entire body stiffening as though it’s bracing itself for impact.

Sebastian Chastain, my childhood bully and tormentor, adjusts his tie, his garnet eyes fixed on the diamond necklace wrapped around my neck as he moves closer.

I can’t evade him, so I school my sight firmly on the dance floor and sip on my champagne. I haven’t seen the bastard in years, and I do not want to notice all the small changes in him or let my gaze roam over the new shape of his body. Once upon a time, I thought our destinies were intwined, but I’m better off without him, regardless of what my mother used to say.

Sebastian nudges Lucas’s shoulder with his fist. “Lulu, how are you?”

Lucas jumps backward, his mouth twisted in a bitter pout. “Don’t call me that.”

Sebastian steps all the way into my bubble, not sparing Lucas another look. The light hits his auburn hair just right, and my heart gives a nostalgic squeeze. Sebastian always looked like he was sculpted in fire, and his Nightfall certainly didn’t strip that away from him.

“Dance with me, Ari.” He offers me his hand, and I glance around the room.

While I would love nothing more than to refuse Sebastian, I do not want to disrespect the queen, so I discard my flute on a waiter’s tray and take her brother’s hand.

Sebastian’s gaze slides down my cleavage, and a thrill shoots up my spine. He once called me an ugly bloodling, and it’s empowering to have this effect on him now. As empty as it is, I crave the vindication it delivers.

He whisks me to the dance floor and pulls me close. “I bet Hadria was exceptionally boring without me.”

“It was nice to be respected, for a change.”

“Ah! Is that what you truly crave? Respect?” His palm presses hard on my lower back as he leans in my ear. “Do you remember your fourteenth birthday?”

I ignore the wild boom in my demon heart and force myself to appear bored. “How can I forget? You set fire to my dress.”

While I was still in it.

His heated gaze flicks to my lips. “You admitted something that day, between curses and sobs.”

“Yes. Crazy how after that, my crush on you literally went up in smoke.”

A meaningless, teenage crush. I will not deny it because he would see right through me. A few too many diaries started and ended with hearts containing his name, but I’m older now. I see his rebel vibe for what it is: a plea for attention.

His warm chuckle riddles my skin with goosebumps. “I missed your sharp wit.”

“I didn’t think of you at all.”

His eyes darken, calling my bluff. “No? Not even on Christmas?”