Chapter 9
Nicole’s POV
The mask was white porcelain with gold edging, and it covered everything from my forehead to the bridge of my nose. I had added large tortoiseshell glasses below it on the grounds that two layers of disguise were better than one, and Marlon had looked at the combination and said I resembled a very elegant owl.
“That is the point,” I told him, and he gave up.
The institute’s main hall had been transformed for the ceremony – long banners, the kind of lighting that turned everything warm and slightly golden, chairs arranged in careful rows facing the podium. I found a seat near the back and kept my head down while Marlon gave my speech better than I would have given it, gesturing with the easy confidence of someone who had never found a room full of people particularly threatening.
stayed for the social hour because I had said I would. I found a corner near the rear entrance with a good sightline to the door, accepted a glass of water from a passing server, and watched.
The guests moved the way alliance visitors always did – clustered by pack, performing diplomacy with smiles that didn’t always reach their eyes. I recognized some of them but not enough to be worried.
I was running a quiet calculation about how soon I could leave without it being notable when two men from the North Crest delegation stopped near me, facing away, deep in conversation they clearly considered private.
“passed by the medical board last month,” one of them was saying. “The mate bond trauma research.”
I went still.
“Interesting work,” the other said. “Though I heard it’s largely West’s methodology. The woman whose name is on it just runs the lab.”
My hand tightened around the glass.
“That’s what they’re saying.” The first man shrugged. “The institute can’t exactly pass over a female researcher without looking bad, so”
“Is that the conclusion you’ve reached?”
The voice came from behind them, quiet and entirely controlled, and both men turned. So did I, before I could stop myself.
He was in a dark suit, no mask yet – that was for the ball tonight and he looked exactly like the person who had been standing in my memory for years, which was somehow still a surprise, it seems he grew taller. The same sharp set of his jaw, the same particular energy that made a room feel smaller around him.
“Alpha Tate,” the North Crest man said, his voice wavering slightly.
“The research in question was peer-reviewed independently,” Tate said, his voice carrying exactly as far as it needed to and no further. “By three boards, none of whom have any relationship with Dr. Carter. The methodology was assessed as original, the projections were assessed as exceptional.” He looked at both of them with an expression that was almost pleasant. “I’d be careful about repeating conclusions you haven’t verified. In a room full of researchers, it tends to reflect poorly on the person speaking.”
The North Crest men rearranged their faces and moved away.
Tate turned, and for one suspended second he was looking directly at me at the mask, at the glasses, at whatever expression I had failed to control in the last few seconds. His eyes moved over my face, unhurried.
1/4
I did not breathe. He said nothing then turned and walked away.
+25 Bonus
I waited until he had crossed the full length of the room before I walked, very deliberately, to the exit, down the corridor, and into the elevator, and pressed the button for my floor, and stood with my back against the wall while the doors closed.
My legs were shaking. I hadn’t noticed until just now.
The twins were at the small table in my office when I got back, Maple’s tongue between his teeth as he worked through something in his workbook, Rosy’s drawings spread across her half of the table in careful rows. The caregiver looked up, assessed my face with the practiced neutrality of a woman who had learned not to ask, and excused herself.
I sat on the edge of the desk and watched them for a while. Maple noticed first. “Mum, you look weird.”
“Thank you, Maple.”
“Are you sick?” Rosy looked up from her drawing, her eyes moving over me. “You’re all pale.”
“I’m fine. Show me what you’re working on.”
Rosy held up a drawing of what appeared to be three people in a garden. I asked who they were and she pointed at each one without hesitation – me, her, Maple – and then pointed to a fourth, smaller shape near the edge of the paper that I hadn’t noticed. “That’s the man from my dream,” she said simply, and went back to drawing.
I didn’t ask which man. The door opened and Marlon came in carrying a large box. He set it on the desk with deliberate care of someone who had been waiting all day to do this, and then he looked at me with the expression of a person extremely pleased with himself.
“Happy birthday,” he said.
I had genuinely forgotten. “Marlon”
“Don’t.” He opened the box before I could object, and lifted out a gown the colour of deep forest green, cut simply and beautifully. “Before you say it’s too much”
“It’s too much.”
“It’s your birthday and you’ve spent months working eighteen-hour days and you’re going to a ball tonight.” He held it up. “Try it on before you decide.”
“I’m not trying it on.” But Rosy had already abandoned her drawing entirely, sliding off her chair to come and look, her eyes going very wide.
“Mummy.” Her voice dropped to a reverent whisper. “It’s the colour of the Emerald City.”
Maple abandoned his workbook. “Is that for you?”
“It’s not practical,” I said, even as Rosy pulled at my hand.
“Mummy.” Rosy tugged harder. “Put it on. Please. Please please please”
Maple joined in. “Yeah, put it on.”
“You’re supposed to be doing homework.”
“We’ll finish after,” Maple said, with the confidence of someone making a deal he fully intended to renegotiate later.
2/4
+25 Bonus
I looked at Marlon, who shrugged and looked entirely unrepentant, and then at Rosy, who was looking at the dress the way she looked at her best storybooks, and I took it from him.
Two minutes later Rosy let out a sound that could only be described as delighted devastation. “Mummy,” she breathed, both hands pressed to her cheeks. “You look like a princess. Everyone has to see you. Everyone.”
“The mask,” I said. “And the barrier.”
“Scent neutralized at the door,” Marlon confirmed. “Full mask provided at entry. He could stand next to you and know nothing.”
Maple studied me. “Mummy you should wear your hair down,” he said, with absolute authority.
“Thank you, Maple.”
“I mean it.” He went back to his workbook.
The ballroom was unrecognizable, the institute had spent a month in this room and it showed everything candlelit and draped, the masks on every face making the crowd into something almost mythological, and for the first thirty seconds inside the door I simply stood and breathed and let the barrier’s neutrality settle over me.
Nobody knew me here. That was the point and the gift of it, and I had almost forgotten what it felt like.
The whispers started within the first few minutes – curious, guests I didn’t recognize, noting the green dress and the white mask and trying to place me. I kept moving, kept my chin up, but when a group of three men began making their way toward me with the coordinated intention of people who had agreed on an approach, my chest tightened.
“May I?”
A hand appeared beside me, open and unhurried, and I turned to find a man in a dark butterfly mask, auburn- haired, with an easy quality to his posture that read immediately as someone who was here to help and not to take advantage.
I took his hand because the alternative was facing three strangers alone, and he led me smoothly onto the floor as
the music shifted.
He danced well. He held the space around me with consideration, and his eyes behind the mask were warm and a little amused. “You looked like you needed a rescue.”
“That obvious?”
“Only to someone who also came here not particularly wanting to be here.” The corner of his mouth lifted. ” You’re with the institute.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The way you know where all the exits are.” He glanced toward the nearest one. “I’ve been doing the same thing since I arrived.”
I almost smiled. “You’re a guest.”
“North Maple delegation.” He didn’t say more than that, which I found I respected. “You feel familiar,” he said, after a moment, something shifting in his expression. “I can’t explain it. I’m sorry if that sounds strange.”
“It does, a little,” I said honestly.
3/4
+25 Bonus
