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has a special surprise for me tonight.”
    Her eyes still thin, Catrina whispered, “Surprises can be good.”
    “I think he’s going to ask for my promise.”
    “Oh.” Something in Catrina’s features tightened. “Well, isn’t it about time?”
    Jordan’s nose crinkled. “I’m not certain…”
    “You’re not certain about what ?”
    “What if he’s not the right one for me? I mean, should I not know if Rowen Burchette is meant to be mine and I his? Should it not be as Shakespeare wrote—with ‘sweet pangs—Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, Save in the constant image of the creature, That is belov’d’?”
    “You feel no pangs?”
    “No. Not a pang nor a twinge.”
    “And no skittishness … no sensation of being off balance?”
    “No.”
    One of Catrina’s slender eyebrows arched. “You are full of doubt, poor little dear.” Her lips twisted but her eyes sparked. “Are you afraid he might ask for your promise in an effort to climb rank?” Catrina’s eyes popped wide open. “Not that Rowen would ever do something so callous—using you merely to raise his status.”
    “No,” Jordan whispered, though the thought had occurred to her shortly after they’d first met. Rowen was a beautiful boy and rank could never be far from mind when someone like him came into the life of someone like her. His family was a class below her own—still perfectly acceptable as marriage material, but not the step up the social ladder her parents wanted her to take.
    Promising herself to Rowen was only a gain to him. And a misstep could be disastrous to rank—a badly planned marriage, a social faux pas, magick discovered in one’s heritage … Many things could send a family hurtling toward ruin. But magick—it was the worst—it was a nearly inescapable taint and the only thing that did more than ruin a family’s reputation. Magick was even worse than being a Catholic in Philadelphia.
    Magick ruined everything .
    “Then you must tell him no should he ask,” Catrina said to their reflections. “And perhaps it is best if you do not draw undue attention to yourself. Step out of the dress.”
    “What? No. I am in the dress and wish to remain so.” Jordan set her hands on her hips.
    “It is so … showy …”
    “It took so long for you to convince me to wear it and now you change your mind? I think not . Perhaps you are jealous?”
    Catrina’s eyes grew small again.
    “I jest!” Jordan grinned. “This dress feels delightful,” she whispered. “It feels like destiny .”
    Catrina peered at her from beneath long eyelashes. “You are right,” she said, turning Jordan around so she could better pull taut the lacings that ran up her corset. “This dress is destined for you. Now suck in your breath,” she urged.
    Jordan obeyed, holding her breath so long as Catrina fumbled her fingers around the lacings that the room swam in her sight and her knees went soft. Catrina tugged the dress closed and smacked Jordan on the back, so she hauled in a fresh breath. Cinched so tight her stomach felt tucked in with her lungs and her décolletage defied more than gravity—it defied reason, she realized, glimpsing herself in the mirror—Jordan stumbled forward.
    “Fantastic!” Catrina said with a little clap. “Now a final spin…”
    Jordan obliged, stopping so fast her layered skirts swayed out like they’d continue without her. She laughed. “The skirts are so thick I don’t imagine I’ll fit through a single doorway.”
    “But it shapes you marvelously. You are a bell-shaped belle. You’ve always had nice breasts, but now it looks like you have hips, too, and a waist so distinguished a wasp would be envious.” Catrina stepped around her, touching her hair to gather up little strands and let loose others. “Your necklace?”
    Jordan handed her the black velvet band with its butterfly wing pendant glinting under glass.
    “Perfection,” Catrina announced. “Just…” She reached out,