Star's Crossing

9: The Devils Are All Here

Mare couldn't breathe.

How did the Shakespeare quote go?

"Mare, are you quite all right?" Lilith's voice came soft as a chime, distant, as though spoken from across the ballroom rather than Mare's side. "You look quite peaked. Mare?"

"Hell is empty," Mare whispered.

Lilith appeared in her view, taking Mare's hands and vying determinedly for her eye. "Mare Atwood. You are positively red."

Mare focused. Sweat prickled at her hairline and between her shoulders. Suddenly she was grateful for the outrageous cut of her gown; at least she was not buried in silks as some of the other girls were.

That's not to say she could breathe.

"Lilith. Please. I need a favor."

Lilith's porcelain brow furrowed, keen eyes narrowing. She nodded once, lips pursed.

Mare plucked the rose from her hair and cupped it between her hands, glancing furtively from left and right to ensure no one had seen. She knew she was flushed, and her heart raced. What if someone had seen?

What if he, whoever he was, had seen?

"Mare, if you've something to do with these boys-"

"Please," said Mare, her desperation vivid as the petals against her palms. She held Lilith's gaze with every ounce of sincerity she could muster. With all of her masks and all of her overtures, would Lilith believe Mare if she cried wolf?

"Well, fine. But only because you're a breath from fainting. Come, now, give it here." Lilith gestured, elegant even in hurry, and plucked the rose from Mare's fingers, slipping it into her glossy pale curls in the same deft movement. "If this marks me for murder, I'll be haunting you while my body is still warm."

Mare couldn't help but smile, her veins awash with relief. "I've made a fool of myself, Lilith, if I may be honest. You will spare me a great deal of embarrassment."

"And embarrass myself all the while?" She lifted her eyes beyond Mare's shoulder, curtsying before Mare had turned. "Mr. Doores. A pleasure to see you this evening."

"Is it?" Camden inclined his head, gloved hands folded smartly behind his back. Though he spoke to Lilith, his eyes darted to Mare, taking in her gown with slow, lavish pointedness. "Why do I feel I've cast a pall?"

Mare forced herself to breathe. In. Out. This intrusion proved nothing. Camden Doores was not her writer. Camden Doores had not humiliated her like this. He had not told the boys of Star's Crossing to don roses in their lapels. He had not shown them her writing, in its splendor and darkness, in its desperation and vivid, passionate love.

But someone had.

Mare's writer had betrayed her.

"Ms. Atwood, if I may-you look utterly ravishing." Camden reached for her hand and bowed his head, lips lingering against her bare knuckles. Mare's breath caught, heat fanning across her cheeks. She dared not glance at Lilith, fearing the righteous girl's expression. "Red suits you, after all."

Now Mare did look to Lilith, who cocked a brow pointedly. "I find I disagree, Mr. Doores," Mare said softly. "I'd be pleased for my enemies to see me bleed."