Chapter 9 - The Masque

**Midwinter, Five and a Half Years Ago**

“Wait wait wait,” Angeline bursts out, laughing so hard she can hardly say the words. “Wait! Evie!” She puts her hands out to grab my wrists, stopping me from again sweeping my hands over my hair, which is currently a bright purple.

I’m also laughing so hard that my stomach hurts as I stare at our reflections, baffled and thrilled at how well the little illusion spell is working on us.

“No!” I shout, trying to raise my hands again, “I want to turn it green!”

“No, the purple is amazing!” Angeline protests, grinning at me in the wide mirror in her bathing chamber. “It goes with your dress! And you have to fix mine – seriously, you have to fix mine!”

And then we’re both laughing hysterically again because I really do have to do something about her hair – the last time I touched it and muttered the words to the incantation, I made it look like the ends of her hair had caught on fire and shriveled up into sad, crispy little curls. It’s amazing, real