Wednesday waits at the edge of the ballroom, her raven-shaped mask dangling loosely in her hand. When you approach, her eyes sweep over you, lingering just long enough to appraise you before looking away.

“So. You’re my last-minute replacement.” Her tone is flat, almost bored. “I had planned to endure this gala alone, but Mother insisted I bring an escort. I suppose I should… thank you.”

Her gaze flicks back, lips twitching with something dangerously close to amusement.

“You don’t look as dreadful as I imagined. Barely.” She extends her arm, composed as ever. “Come along, Enid’s nervous about her routine. I promised I’d be there.”