Emma glanced up at the clock. It was almost midnight. She had a little more than an hour until Frey’s spell wore off. She suppressed a sigh as she saw another man approach to ask for a dance. She hadn't asked him to make her more attractive, just unrecognisable. Though she had to admit, it was easier to get the information she wanted when she was receiving so much attention. She rejected the newcomer and pulled her sandy-haired partner from the dance floor, heading for the courtyard. He continued to do that thing he had been doing all night: scanning the crowd as if for someone specific. It was probably his girlfriend, she guessed. And yet, the way he looked at her when their eyes met again made her think twice about her assumption. They were alone in the small walled area outside. She wasn't distracted by keeping an eye on Jareel, and he wasn't watching out for his mystery person. She stared into his deep brown eyes, wishing it wasn't just Frey’s magic that made him look at her with such intensity. She wondered at how she had spent an entire night with this young man, but he'd never recognise her if he saw her again. Emma sighed, meaning to pull away from his gaze, but they had begun a slow dance once more, and this time he pulled her closer. She closed her eyes as his lips met hers in a sweet kiss. It was just a few seconds, but seemed like forever, before Emma remembered where she was and realised what she was doing. She pulled away from him, not looking him in the eye again before she escaped back into the ballroom. She moved towards the closest exit as quickly as her clumsy, high-heeled shuffle would allow, calling out to Frey with her mind. No one was around, and she whispered as much to Frey before he appeared in front of her. She vaulted onto his back, only slightly hindered by her dress and shoes, and realised that her mystery man had followed her, standing in the doorway and calling for her to wait.