Chapter 199

Iris

“You’re fidgeting again,” Alice says from the doorway of her office, which she’s graciously loaned me as a dressing room for the night.

I catch my own reflection in the full-length mirror, and realize that yes, I am indeed fidgeting—smoothing down my dress for the thousandth time, running my fingers through my carefully styled hair, adjusting the thin gold necklace at my throat like it’s choking me.

“Sorry,” I murmur. “Nerves.”

“You have nothing to be nervous about,” Alice assures me, stepping into the room. She’s already dressed for the gala in a black pantsuit with her hair styled into an elegant twist. “Everything is going according to plan. The gallery is filling up, the champagne is flowing, and Ezra has confirmed that Arthur and Veronica are on their way.”

My stomach flips at the mention of their names. Arthur and Veronica. Like they’re a unit now, a matched set. The thought makes my chest fill with pain.

“I know,” I mutter. “I’m just…”

“Scared?” Alice offers gently.

“Terrified,” I admit.

And why wouldn’t I be? Tonight I’m supposed to somehow get my mate—my ex-mate, I remind myself bitterly—away from his new fiancee long enough to break whatever spell she’s cast on him.

It sounds ludicrous when I think about it like that. Like something from a children’s fairy tale rather than real life.

But then, my life has never been entirely normal, has it?

I look down at my dress, the reason for my nerves. It’s not new—far from it. In fact, it’s the same baby blue sheath dress I wore on my first real date with Arthur, just a few weeks after we met.

I remember it like it was yesterday. We went to a small, intimate restaurant downtown, where we shared not one but two whole bottles of wine and got so drunk he nearly faceplanted on the sidewalk when he walked me home. The memory makes me want to laugh, even now.

It was a perfect night. Simple. Real. Messy. Just the way I like it.

Is that what he has with Veronica, I wonder? Surely not, right? She’s never exactly screamed ‘messy’. Far from it.

Alice seems to read my thoughts. “The dress is perfect,” she says, adjusting one of the thin straps on my shoulder. “If anything is going to jog his memory, it’s this.”

I look in the mirror again, and for a moment, it’s like staring at a woman from a different time. Younger, more naive, full of hope and promise. A woman who believes in true love and happy endings. A woman who hasn’t yet had her heart broken—not once, but twice—by the same man.

Have I changed that much since then? My face looks the same, if a little more tired around the eyes. My hair is the same rich brown, my skin the same pale ivory. But there’s something different in my eyes now. A hardness that wasn’t there before. A wariness.

And yet, my heart… my heart is still the same. Still foolishly, stubbornly in love with Arthur, even after everything.

I just hope his heart is the same, too. I hope Ezra is right that she’s… doing something to him. That this is all fixable and our love was never a lie.

“Here,” Alice says, breaking into my thoughts. She holds out a pair of glasses with clear lenses—my Flora disguise, which I haven’t worn in ages. “Don’t forget these.”

I nod and carefully put on the glasses. With my current styling, the dim lighting in the gallery, and now the glasses, I’ll look pretty much unrecognizable to the untrained eye. It’s funny how the people who have no issue gossiping about every aspect of my life wouldn’t recognize me beneath a smokey eye and a pair of fucking glasses.

Once I’m ready, we leave the office and make our way to the main gallery space, where the gala is in full swing. I hang back, a step behind Alice, letting her take the lead as we weave through the crowd.

It’s a success—I can see that immediately. The gallery is packed, every corner filled with Ordan’s elite in their finest evening wear. Waiters move between the groups, offering champagne and hors d’oeuvres. The soft murmur of conversation is punctuated by occasional laughter. My mural, still covered by a large sheet for the big reveal later, looms large on the west wall.

“Quite the turnout,” I murmur to Alice.

“Told you,” she says, snagging two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handing one to me. Goddess knows I’ll need it tonight. “Everyone who’s anyone is here. And they’re all talking about the art program. You did it, Iris.”

I can’t help but feel a flush of pride at that. Even if the night’s true purpose fails, at least the charity initiative will be a success. The children of Ordan will still benefit. That’s all that matters to me.

Alice clinks her glass with mine. “I’ll be mingling if you need me. Remember, you’re Flora tonight. The mysterious artist who created that stunning mural. Just another guest until it’s time.”

With that, she disappears into the crowd, leaving me to navigate on my own. I begin to make my way around the room, chatting with strangers who don’t recognize me, speaking with donors who mention the charity without realizing my true involvement.

It’s strange, being invisible like this once more. Freeing, in a way. No one’s looking at me with pity or judgment. No one’s whispering about the Jewel Killer or the Luna or the angry woman who slapped Veronica in public. I’m just another face in the crowd.

But it’s not long before a hush falls over the room. I turn, following the collective gaze of the crowd, and my heart stops.

Arthur came after all.

And Veronica is on his arm.

He looks… good. Handsome as ever in a perfectly tailored black suit, his dark hair styled neatly away from his face. That lone curl is tamed, which makes my heart ache slightly.

Veronica, for her part, looks ready to command the room. She’s wearing a gown that can only be described as extravagant—blood red, with a plunging neckline and a skirt so full it must have taken three people to get it on. The fabric glitters with hundreds of tiny crystals that catch the light with every movement, making it impossible to look away.

She’s completely overdressed for the event. Everyone else is in cocktail attire or simple evening wear, but Veronica looks like she’s attending a royal ball. It’s ostentatious, a clear statement: look at me, I’m important, I’m going to be Luna.

And there, on her left hand, gleaming under the gallery lights, is the citrine ring. My ring. The one that was supposed to be mine.

It takes everything in me not to run and hide. The pain of seeing them together is almost physical, like a knife twisting between my ribs.

But then Veronica’s gaze begins to sweep the room, as if seeking out someone specific. Her eyes scan the crowd methodically; she’s looking for me, I realize with a jolt. She knows I’ll be here. She’s hunting for me.

I quickly turn away before her eyes can land on me, my heart hammering in my chest. I can’t let her recognize me. Not yet. Not until I’ve had my chance with Arthur.

Thankfully, if she notices me, she doesn’t come over. I take three breaths, and when I finally take a risky glance over my shoulder, she and Arthur are all the way on the other side of the room, smiling and chatting with an Ordan magnate.

It’s just like Selina all over again, I think bitterly. Another woman on Arthur’s arm. Another public humiliation. Another fight for the man I love.

But I didn’t back down then. And I won’t now.

I down the rest of my champagne in one go, letting the liquid courage soothe my frayed nerves. Glancing up, I spot Ezra standing a ways away, holding his own drink with a determined look on his face.

He nods at me, lifting his glass slightly. I grit my teeth and nod back.

It’s time to do this.