"Emery?"

"Hmmm?"

"Where are we going?"

He turned to look at me, a slight frown wrinkling his forehead. "The annual Magician's Ball. You know that."

"Yes I know, but…" My words died as we walked through the doors to the banquet hall — or what I was used to thinking of as the banquet hall. The room had been transformed into a nighttime wonderland. I gasped in delight as a lacy paper butterfly fluttered down to investigate my hair, then winged away into the air trailing a shower of glitter behind it.

I turned to Emery, accusation in my tone. "That's what you've been up to late at night these past weeks."

He shrugged, eyes smiling at me. "Yes." He stuck his hands into his pockets, ducking slightly as he jerked his chin toward the far wall, where Mg. Aviosky stood with a few other magicians. "I'll be over there with the other aged."

I frowned, reaching for his arm, but I let my hand drop. We were in public, after all — we couldn't be too familiar. We still hadn't talked about what had happened in the weeks leading up to the events of the past months — that kiss! — And I knew this wasn't the time or place.

"What am I supposed to do?" I asked crossly.

His eyes crinkled around the edges. "Have fun. Dance. Do whatever young people do."

I snorted. "You're hardly old enough to call me a young person."

"Hmm," he said, noncommital. His eyes shuttered, leaving me no hints as to what he was thinking. "I'll see you later, Ceony."

Then he strode off, and I was left alone. What did young people do at parties? I hadn't been to many at Tagis Praff — too busy finishing my coursework in a year — and after Delilah… Well, I didn't really have anyone that I would call a friend.

I glanced around, looking for someone I recognized. Presumably my former classmates were here too, some of them. After a few moments, I thought I recognized a few of them in the opposite corner. Giving my shoulders a shake and plastering a smile on my lips, I headed toward them.

"Ceony Twill!" Someone exclaimed. I turned to face him, searching my memory.

"Brett," I recalled after a few seconds. "I'm afraid I don't recall your last name."

He scratched the back of his neck and grinned at me. "That's all right. You got my first name, at any rate. So how are…" He waved his hand in the air. "You know. Magic things."

I grinned back. "Magic things? Really? I'm a Folder, how about you?"

"Smelter," he said promptly, then his face fell. "You wanted to be one too didn't you. Sorry you got stuck with Folding."

I bristled at the contempt in his tone. "Folding is actually better than I expected. I like it very much."

He peered doubtfully at me. "You're sure you're Ceony?"

I punched him on the arm. "So what have you been up to? How's Smelting?"

His eyes lit up. "Oh, it's brilliant. Better even than I expected. And Mg. Coulter is awesome." He stopped, looking slightly embarassed. "Sorry. I tend to go on about smelting when asked. Have you tried the cake?"

"There's cake?" I grinned. "Why didn't you say so?"

Laughing, he took my elbow and steered me toward the tables set up at the opposite end of the room, near where Emery stood. Brett's hand was warm, but he held my elbow too tightly for it to be comfortable. I glanced over at Emery, who was looking pointedly at where Brett's hand rested on my elbow. His expression was pinched. As soon as we reached the table, I reached for the cake, forcing Brett to remove his hand.

As I reached for the pitcher of punch, I felt the familiar press of a warm hand on my upper back. I leaned into it, reveling in its steady warmth as Emery bent close to me.

"I wouldn't," he murmured, breath tickling my ear. "Someone spiked it earlier."

I raised an eyebrow, turning so I could see his face. "And you didn't say anything?"

He shrugged. "Patrice may have badgered me into being a chaperone, but I'm not going to ruin everyone's fun. Except yours," he added, eyes crinkling in amusement.

I smacked him on the arm. "Fine. Has anyone tampered with the water?"

He shrugged. "Not that I've noticed. I think you're safe there."

I nodded and poured myself a glass, then turned back to Brett, who was staring at us, eyebrows drawn down in suspicion. I realized suddenly how close Emery was standing, and cleared my throat, stepping away from him, already missing the warmth of his hand.

"Thanks for the warning, Mg. Thane," I said, then turned and headed toward the doors that led into the courtyard.

Brett followed me out, still frowning to himself.

"So," I said, as we settled against a wall to the left of the doors, "tell me about Smelting."

His eyes lit up again and the suspicion faded from his face. I sighed with relief, and settled in to listen. I really was interested in what he'd been learning, even though I wasn't upset at being forced to study folding anymore, and Brett had plenty to talk about.

Once I finished my cake — which was excellent — I turned to set the plate on the low wall behind us. When I turned back, Brett was right in front of me. I jumped.

"Oh," I said, staring wide-eyed up at him, "what—"

Instead of answering, Brett pressed me against the wall and kissed me.

I froze in shock, then started writhing. "Get off me!" I hissed.

"You seemed to like it when Mg. Thane got close to you," Brett said, an edge to his voice. "I just want the same thing you give him."

I struggled, trying to get a solid kick in, but his grip was like iron. "I don't know what you mean," I gasped out.

He laughed harshly. "You're obviously easy. So stop protesting and let me show you a good time."

I thrashed harder, but he shoved his knee between my legs and moved one hand roughly to my breast and one to cover my mouth.

I bit his hand, and he swore, shoving me back against the wall so hard my vision greyed around the edges.

Suddenly, a fist came flying out of nowhere and collided with the side of Brett's head with a solid thunk. His eyes rolled up in his head, and he slumped to the ground.

Emery shook out his hand, wincing, then turned to gather me into his arms. "Ceony," he said softly, "are you all right? Did he hurt you?"

I shook my head, then struggled to gather my thoughts enough to speak. "He said…" I stopped to gulp in a breath of air, trying to clear the spots from my vision. "He said I was obviously easy — that he just wanted what I give you." I was still struggling to wrap my mind around it all.

Emery swore, pulling me roughly against him. "Oh, Ceony," he murmured. "I'm so sorry."

"I turned to face him, incredulous. "Emery… This wasn't your fault."

"It was," he said. His eyes were shuttered again, impossible for me to read. "If I'd been able to keep my distance from you, at least in public, then—"

"Shhh." I put my finger over his lips, feeling tingles rush through me at their softness. "It wasn't your fault. He's just a brute."

Emery kissed the tip of my finger, then pulled me close to him. The music filtered through the open doorway, and a warm breeze caressed my cheeks, cooling the flush that was there.

"Emery…" I began.

"Hmmm?" he said, as he started to sway from side to side.

He opened his eyes, vivid green pools that drew me in. "Dance with me, Ceony," he breathed.

He stepped over Brett's prone form, pulling me deeper into the shadows in the courtyard. Then he wrapped his arms around me again and pulled me into a slow waltz.

I let him guide me, laying my head on his shoulder and feeling the solid warmth of him, the reassuring beat of his heart. We stayed like that for several minutes.

"Ceony," he said, lips warm on my neck, we should probably go back in."

"Probably," I agreed. I glanced over at where Brett still lay unconscious. "I suppose we'd best tell someone about…" I trailed off. What could we tell them?

He nodded. "I'll tell Patrice he attacked you. There's no need to repeat what he said." He sighed softly. "Then maybe we can go home?"

His voice was hopeful, and it brought a light chuckle to my lips. "Yes, Emery. We can go home. I think I enjoy balls about as much as you do — which is to say, not very much."

"Hmmm," he agreed, pressing a light kiss to my neck and then reluctantly pulling away to a respectable distance. He didn't let go of my hand until we reached the door of the ballroom.

Mg. Aviosky frowned at us as we made our way over to her, and her frown deepened with each of Emery's words.

"Very well," she finally said. "I'll deal with Mr. Faris. You may take Miss Twill back to her room to recover."

As the carriage rumbled toward the cottage, Emery put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me against him. "Oh, Ceony," he said softly, burying his face in my hair, "whatever will I do with you?"

"Do I have to go to bed, then?" I asked once we were inside the cottage, looking reluctantly toward my bedroom. I just knew I was going to have nightmares.

"Of course not," Emery said softly. He steered me gently toward the couch. "Why don't you sit down and I'll fetch you something to drink."

He came back after a few minutes with a steaming cup of chocolate and a book. "Here," He said settling beside me and wrapping his arm around me again, "how about I read to you."

I groaned. "Is this going to be some boring Folding treatise?"

He chuckled. "No. I thought Miss Austen might be more agreeable." He cleared his throat and began. "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife."

I smiled, letting the familiar words wash over me as I sipped my chocolate and let myself melt against Emery's side. Neither of us had enjoyed the ball very much, but a quiet night at the cottage was the perfect way to push Brett's attack out of my mind.

Emery plucked the cup from my hand as it started to droop, pulling me against his chest. I let the familiar sound of his heartbeat sooth me as I felt myself drifting toward sleep.

Just before I tipped over the edge, I felt his lips in my hair as he whispered, "goodnight, love."

I fell asleep with a smile on my face and for once, no fear of nightmares.