Wren Halvari read the invitation twice, and her hands would not stop shaking. The realm's grandest gathering wanted her. Gold script named the floating crystal palace, and named her as guest of honor's companion. Vera would be there, waiting for Wren to stand beside her at last. That was the whole problem. Wren loved Vera enough to fight anyone for her. But standing in the open, under a thousand watching eyes, was a different kind of battle. Wren protected people. She did it from behind them, from the edge of the room, never from the center. She set the card on the parlor table and pressed her palms flat to steady them. "So it's true." Her aunt stood in the doorway. Margot Ashworth held her own copy of the invitation, pinched between two fingers like something spoiled. Wren's stomach dropped. Margot ran the family's name through this house, and she watched Wren the way a hawk watches a rabbit. "You mean to bring her," Margot said. "Publicly. As your partner." "I haven't decided," Wren lied. Margot crossed the room slowly. "Then let me help you decide. If you cannot say the words yourself, someone will say them for you." She let the invitation fall onto the table beside Wren's. "People are already whispering. I could end the whispers with one sentence at that party. I could name what you are before you find the nerve." The threat landed clean. Wren's face went hot. Her aunt did not shout. She never did. She simply promised to strip the choice from Wren's hands. "You'd humiliate me," Wren said quietly. "I'd spare the family a scene it can't control." Margot's mouth tightened. "Unless you speak first. But you won't. You've never stood beside anyone in your life. You stand behind them." The words were cruel because they were true. Wren looked at the two invitations side by side. She thought of Vera's face when she read her own copy, hopeful, certain Wren would come. She thought of Vera standing alone under the crystal spires, scanning the crowd for a woman who hid at the edges. Wren picked up her invitation. She turned it over and found the blank space for a reply. "You're right about one thing," Wren said. "I've always stood behind people." She met her aunt's eyes. "Not this time." She wrote her acceptance in ink, both names together, hers and Vera's, and she signed it. Her hand still shook. She signed anyway. "I'll say it myself," Wren told Margot. "At the party. Out loud. Before you can." Margot studied her, and something flickered behind the disapproval. Surprise, maybe. Then it hardened. "We'll see," Margot said, "if you can survive the room." She left. Wren stood alone with the signed card in her fist. She had committed now. In three days she would enter the floating palace, find Vera in the crowd, and claim her aloud, or her aunt would do it for her first.