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nook appears in the shrubs. Unlike inside, it’s still and quiet out here, and for the first time all night, I can hear myself think. 
I sigh and marvel at the endless freckles of light stretching high above us.
“Is this what you really want?” Beck asks as he sits on a stone bench beneath a snow pine. “To live like this? Always on display?”
The honest answer is, I don’t know. I never thought I did, and being here, having everyone stare and whisper about me, is upsetting. But I want to make my mother proud. I want to show her I can live up to my ancestry. 
But more than that, I like feeling important. Like I’m more than just a good student. And Beck’s shadow.
“I think so.” When his face falls, I add, “It’s not so bad. Don’t you like feeling important?”
“What would you give up for it? Your privacy? Your friends? What?”
I lay my hand over his bronze warm one. “Why should I give up anything? My friends will always be my friends, regardless of what I do for a living.”
He rakes his free hand through his hair. Why is he so upset?
“Is that what Malin told you? That you can have everything?”
Just as I’m about to answer, Beck presses his finger over his lips, hushing me. It’s a gesture I know too well. Over the years, we’ve learned to guard our conversations in public and to recognize the sound of an approaching news camera.
But this time I hear nothing. Not the familiar hum of the machine, nor the chatter of the newscaster commanding the camera from a remote location. 
Beck tilts his head to the side and focuses his attention on the path leading away from us. 
“Someone’s over there,” he whispers.
My lips form a tight line. The last thing I want is for the cameras to invade this small piece of privacy we have. 
I start to walk away, determined to out maneuver the camera, but Beck wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me back to him. He shakes his head with wide eyes.
Then I hear it. The muffled sound of sobs; a low, unintelligible treble of a man’s voice; and the sound of crumpling fabric–like a ball gown. 
“I can’t,” a woman says with a shaking voice. 
“Why?” The man speaks with a hint of hysteria and I raise my eyebrows. It feels wrong eavesdropping, but I’m frozen to this spot.
“You need to stop making this difficult.” So much sadness in each word. “Malin will flay us if she finds out.”
“Then let her. I don’t care anymore.”
I lean close to Beck’s ear and whisper, “We should go.”
He nods and jumps to his feet. We’re half-way down the path when the crunch of gravel stops just behind us.
“What are you two doing out here?”
My foot hovers above the ground and my heart hammers hard. I know we shouldn’t be out here. And we shouldn’t have eavesdropped. 
I set my foot down and pivot slowly only to find myself face-to-face with Annalise. Her tear-streaked cheeks and mussed hair look nothing like the perfectly coiffed girl I met in the Ballroom. 
“Did Callum send you to spy on me?” Her eyes dart past my shoulder, to Beck, and then around the garden. “Or Malin?”
My mouth drops open and I look to Beck for a suggestion on what to do. He slips off his jacket and holds it out to Annalise, who despite the frigid weather, is dressed only in her flimsy evening gown. No coat, no gloves. Nothing. And yet, she doesn’t appear cold at all.
“Are you okay?” Beck asks her. She eyes the coat suspiciously before slipping it on. “You seem upset.”
Annalise clutches the jacket lapels to her chest. “Why would I be upset? It’s my binding day.” She speaks quickly and a notch higher than normal. “In fact, I need to get to back to the reception.”
She shrugs out of Beck’s coat and tosses it at him. He catches it with one hand and lays it over his arm. 
“And you two need to get back inside.” Annalise’s eyes land on my face. Her sky blue eyes study me with a mix of curiosity and amusement. She exhales and shakes her head as if