Violetta broke the black wax seal at her dressing table. The invitation slid free, edged with ash and marked by a twist of thorns. Tonight she would walk into Moonbriar's grandest masquerade and find the noble everyone else had given up on. She wanted one quiet corner with one quiet person. She wanted to stop smiling at people who looked through her. A second slip of paper fell from inside the invitation. The handwriting was small and rushed. Stay away from him tonight. You do not know what you are stepping into. She read it twice. Then she set it down and picked up the pale porcelain mask she had chosen, the one crowded with soft green moss and tiny leaves. She pressed the mask to her face in the mirror. It hid everything but her mouth. Good. She practiced the small, harmless smile she used on strangers. Her hands shook once, then stilled. A bright butterfly drifted through the open window and landed on the warning note. Its wings opened and closed over the thorned mark, covering it, uncovering it. Violetta watched for a long moment. Someone already knew she was coming. Someone already wanted her gone. She folded the warning into her glove. She tucked the invitation into her sleeve. Then she walked out toward the carriage and the iron gazebo waiting at the garden entrance, its vines lit gold by lanterns. She was still going in. The evening had simply grown teeth.