So when Lucian Uraiahs had arrived at the wedding with his brother, Brinna had been standing near Tarley on the dais. The two men arrived like the strike of a match, a shift in the energy of the room grabbing her notice. Upon seeing them, Brinna had snapped her gaze forward, catching on the lace of Tarley’s dress, trying to calm the racing of her heart. And as much as she told herself not to look, she hadn’t been able to contain her gaze, allowing it to drift back to where he’d been standing. For just a brief second.

She’d realized her imagination hadn’t been better than the real thing. Wearing a light suit—barely gray—with a white shirt and pink tie, he’d been such a contrast to his brother dressed in darkness. Such strange clothes compared to what she was used to seeing men wear in Sevens. He’d looked like a beautiful sunrise, his golden glow ever present. As she’d studied him, his bright, golden eyes had connected with hers, his dark brows shifting slightly along with a slight tilt of his dark, blond head.

She’d looked away as a flush had crept up her skin, and hated that he’d see, that he’d know.

Shortly after the start of the wedding celebration, he’d disappeared. Typical. Brinna hated that she’d been disappointed. What truly was there to be disappointed about? Lucian Uraiahs was an insufferable, pompous stiff-neck, too prideful for his own good.

So, that left all the other agreeable gentlemen to meet, she supposed, and she would just have to dance with them all. Once she’d returned with Mattias. How was she to meet the love of her life without opening the door to find him?

Her dainty new boots crunched over the scree of the roadway, and she pulled up her skirts to keep them from dragging along the dusty ground. “Mattias!” she called again. She’d made it to the middle of the village where the meeting house stretched out across the street beyond the green. She could see the shadowed outline of the large tree and turned to look back at the inn, wondering if perhaps Mattias hadn’t left. Thinking that this—venturing out into the darkness alone—was careless.

A raven squawked.

No longer walking, Brinna stood at the center of the village and yelled for Mattias once more. No answer. No Mattias.

Yes. It had been silly to venture out by herself. There were so many places in the inn to check first.

She turned back.

A resounding crunch against the roadway called her attention, and Brinna looked over her shoulder. A man was illuminated by the faint light from the inn and the intermittent moonlight shining between the clouds. She couldn’t see him clearly but could tell he was pale, and his lips appeared to curl with a smile, though its shape was unsettling. He smoothed his gloved hands over the dark wool of his jacket—a nervous gesture. “Hello?”

Had she dreamed this? It felt… familiar somehow.

Brinna’s heartbeat quickened both with excitement and trepidation. He had a nice voice. How many times had she imagined meeting a handsome stranger in Sevens? Too many to count, though in her dreams, the faceless suitor hadn’t been found in the dark, but often overwhelmed her with light. She squinted now too, only it wasn’t because of the brightness, but rather the fact she couldn’t see clearly in the dark.

He started toward her, his steps nearly imperceptible on the roadway.

Brinna remained fixed to her spot, turning toward him. “You’re late for the party,” she said.

The man smiled wider, and now that he was closer, she noticed his ink-black hair shimmered blue when he moved, like a crow in the sunshine. His skin held a bluish hue tinted by the shadows of the night. “Perhaps you might help me find my way?” he asked. His voice was rather alluring—deep and resonant—and Brinna, despite the discomfited perception coating her rational thoughts, her irrationality seemed to take control.

He smiled, his teeth bright behind his smile.

Brinna tilted her head, considering him, feeling a strange sensation run the length of her spine. It wasn’t pleasant, culminating in her belly, and she took a step away from him with an impulse to run, even if propriety insisted on hospitality. With another glance back at the party, she considered leaving the man to fend for himself, only she wasn’t one to be rude. “The wedding is just that way. I can show you,” she told him, and waited politely as he approached.

“Brinna!” A new voice cut through the night, the sound cracking just a touch behind her invitation like an echo. “No! Run!”

Brinna swiveled in place, looking at the shadows of the tree on the green once more as a man emerged from the darkness moving swiftly toward her, too quick to even to make him out albeit for the light he emitted.

Something hissed.

As if in slow motion, she turned back to the stranger, registering the change in his face, now sharp and angular with hollowed dark eyes, the whites swallowed by darkness, blood-red mouth lined with sharp teeth. It reached a clawed-hand out for her— “mine,” the voice hissed, no longer alluring, but terrifying in its other-worldly sound grating against her ears. Cold rushed toward her.

She leaned away, opening her mouth to scream when a rush of warmth hit her like a wall. White-hot heat banded her waist, rushing up her back to her neck, drawing her into its safety. It was followed by a flash of a bright light before everything turned white around her, blinding her. Then everything disappeared

3

Not quite prepared for what had just occurred in the dark of Sevens, Brinna’s imagination seemed the safest place to retreat, so she decided she must have been dreaming.

The bright light.

The warmth.

The sensation of both being suspended and sinking.

A heavy weight banded around her waist and a resistance at her back affecting the air fighting to move through her lungs.

It all pointed to that alternate reality.