Chapter 127

Iris

The steps come as naturally as breathing now after all those hours of practice, so long as I keep my eyes fixed on Arthur. And how could I not, when he’s smiling down at me, that damn curl across his forehead, those forest green eyes shining in the light of the chandeliers?

As we move, the crowd around us falls away. Suddenly, it’s just me and Arthur, moving as one across the gleaming ballroom floor.

We execute a perfect turn, and I hear appreciative murmurs from the crowd. My wildflower gown swirls around my legs, and the crowd gasps softly at the sight of the layers of tulle swaying like a field of flowers on a sunny day.

I still can’t believe that this is actually happening. I’m dancing at a ball, in a gown worth more than my life savings, with hundreds of the most powerful people in the country watching. Little orphan Iris would be in heaven right now.

The dance calls for me to turn away from Arthur at this point, performing a solo twirl before returning to his arms. I’ve done it a hundred times or more in our lessons, and I execute the move flawlessly, extending my arm as I spin.

But as I complete the turn, my foot slides unexpectedly. The floor beneath me is suddenly slick, as if someone spilled oil or grease in exactly the spot where I need to pivot. My ankle twists painfully as I try to catch myself, and before I can regain my balance, I’m falling.

Time seems to slow down. I see the horror on my mother’s face, the barely-concealed smirks on several others. My hand reaches out instinctively to break my fall, and I manage to catch myself before I completely face-plant in front of everyone.

It’s not graceful, but it’s not a total disaster either.

Arthur is at my side in an instant, helping me to my feet with a concerned look. My ankle throbs painfully, but I force a smile and nod slightly, letting him know I can continue.

“Are you sure?” he whispers.

I nod again, even though I’m really not okay. My ankle feels like it’s on fire—definitely twisted. But I can’t fail now. Arthur can definitely sense my pain, but he doesn’t argue as I smile and move back into position.

The music never stopped, and we slip back into the dance as if the stumble was planned all along. I grit my teeth against the pain, forcing my face to remain serene as we complete the final turns of the waltz. Arthur subtly takes more of my weight, supporting me through the steps.

As the final notes fade, he dips me low, both a little breathless and flushed. The crowd erupts into applause, seemingly impressed by our recovery. We hold the pose for a moment before Arthur helps me straighten, his hand discreetly supporting my waist.

The moment we’re out of the spotlight, Arthur’s smile drops.

“You’re hurt,” he says, his eyes flicking down to my ankle.

“I’m fine,” I lie, although I can’t help but put more weight on my good foot.

Arthur’s not buying it. “Come with me.”

He leads me out of the ballroom and down a quiet hallway to a small sitting room. Once inside, he helps me to a comfortable chair and kneels in front of me.

“Let me see,” he says, carefully slipping off my shoe. His touch is gentle, but I still hiss in pain as he examines my ankle. It’s already starting to swell. “It’s definitely sprained. What happened out there?”

“The floor was slippery,” I say, grimacing as he rotates my ankle slightly. “Like someone put grease or something right where I needed to turn.”

Arthur blinks up at me, and I stare back. Normally, I would think anyone is being paranoid if they actually believe someone greased a fucking dance floor.

But the longer I live in this world, the more I come to understand that people do those kinds of things all of the time. People are cruel and vindictive, and if any of Selina’s supporters are in attendance tonight, I wouldn’t put it past them to try and sabotage my debut dance.

Once he realizes I’m being completely serious, his eyes darken. “I’ll have Ezra look into it. For now, you need ice.” He stands and goes to the door, speaking quietly to someone outside. A minute later, a staff member arrives with an ice pack, a cloth, and a bottle of mild painkillers.

Arthur returns to kneel in front of me, wrapping the ice pack around my ankle while I take the painkillers with some water. “This should help with the swelling. Elevate it for a little while. You really should stay off it for the rest of the night, though.”

“I can’t,” I protest. “It’s my debut. I have to go back out there.”

“Iris—”

“No, Arthur. I’m not hiding in here just because someone tried to embarrass me. I’ve been through way worse than a twisted ankle.”

He sighs. “At least rest it for a few minutes?”

I nod and ease back in the chair. The ice feels good against my throbbing ankle.

There’s a sharp knock at the door, and Ezra pokes his head in. “Sorry to interrupt, sir, but there’s an urgent matter that requires your attention.”

Arthur frowns. “Can it wait?”

Ezra’s expression is grave. “I’m afraid not, sir. Security issue.”

Arthur looks torn, glancing between me and Ezra. I wave him off. “Go. I’ll be fine. I’ll just rest for a few minutes and then head back to the party.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Go play Alpha President.” I offer a smirk.

He leans down to kiss me quickly. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

And then he’s gone, following Ezra out the door.

I give myself ten minutes with the ice before deciding that I’ve hidden away long enough. Carefully, I slip my shoe back on and stand, testing my weight. It hurts a little, but it’s bearable, and the painkillers haven’t even kicked in yet. I just need to be careful not to twist it again.

The hallway outside is empty, and I make my way slowly back toward the ballroom, admiring the artwork as I meander by. Just as I step through the main doors, a woman steps into my path. She’s vaguely familiar—one of the many people I was introduced to earlier, although I can’t recall her name.

“What a performance,” she says with a saccharine smile. “Quite the dramatic fall. Some might say the dance symbolizes your entire rise to prominence—flashy but ultimately unstable.”

I blink, caught off guard by the direct attack. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, don’t play innocent. You may have fooled everyone else with your little lost heir story, but some of us know better.” She steps closer, her voice dropping to a hiss. “Selina was—is—twice the woman you’ll ever be. You think you can just waltz in and take her place? Please.”

So she’s one of Selina’s friends. Probably the one who greased the floor, judging by the satisfaction in her eyes when she mentioned my fall.

“I didn’t take anyone’s place,” I reply. “And I certainly didn’t ask for any of this.”

She scoffs. “Right. Just like you didn’t ask to be the Alpha President’s mate? Just happened to fall into that too, did you?”

I open my mouth to respond, but before I can, another voice cuts in.

“Margaret, darling, there you are.” Veronica glides up beside me, linking her arm through mine as if we’ve been friends for years. “I see you’ve met my cousin Iris.”

Margaret’s smile falters. “Veronica. Yes, we were just getting acquainted.”

“How lovely,” Veronica says, narrowing her eyes. “Although I must say, Margaret, your husband was looking for you rather desperately. Something about the credit card you maxed out without his knowledge?” She tilts her head slightly. “You should probably look for him. He’s in quite the state right now.”

Margaret’s eyes widen, and she hurries away without another word.

As she leaves, Veronica glances at me. “Word of advice, cousin? Never engage directly with vipers like Margaret. They’re not worth your time or energy.”

“Was she the one who—”

“Almost certainly,” Veronica confirms as she leads me further into the ballroom. “She was Selina’s sorority sister. She’s been making noise about you since rumors of your existence first surfaced. There are others you should be wary of as well.”

Quietly, Veronica points out various guests—people who were close to Selina, who resent my sudden appearance, who might try to undermine me in ways both subtle and overt. Once she’s finished—and there are more people than I’d hoped for—she turns to me with a gentle smile.

“The best thing you can do is continue to carry yourself with grace and try not to show how their actions shake you,” Veronica says. “In this world, appearing weak is often more dangerous than actually being weak.”

Standing next to Veronica, with her perfect poise and effortless grace, I can’t help but feel weak. She basically had to come to my rescue. But I manage a smile and thank her for her help, and with that, she glides away as if she’s not even walking, but rather levitating slightly from the floor.

I look around for a moment, and then spot Arthur across the room, deep in conversation with Ezra. Curious, I make my way toward them. As I get closer, I can hear snippets of their conversation.

“—confirmed it was her? You’re absolutely certain?” Arthur is saying.

“Yes, sir,” Ezra replies.

“Fuck,” Arthur mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Of all the nights for her to…”

“Sir,” Ezra interrupts, his eyes suddenly fixed on something over Arthur’s shoulder. “She’s here.”

Arthur spins around, and I follow his gaze to the main entrance of the ballroom.

My stomach drops as the crowd parts to reveal the very last face I expected to see tonight.

Selina.