Solene tugged at the neckline of her red dress. The sweetheart cut lined with little black lace for trim was much lower than what she usually wore, emphasizing the ways in which her silhouette was becoming the mirror of her mother's. The red satin flared out around her hips into a bell shape. The fabric swished around her ankles, moving as if it had its own breeze enchanted into the material—although Roxana assured her that no such modifications had been made.

Perhaps the most daring part of it was that the long sleeves were off the shoulder, further emphasizing the plunge of the neckline.

When Solene had been getting ready, she'd liked the look well enough—but there was a certain unease to it. Other than the deep garnet color, it was the exact sort of dress her mother might have worn, perhaps for an event for the Covenant or on a date with Solene's father.

Tonight was meant to be a fun night, the kind to remember and romanticize— right?

The school dance was held in the same ballroom where the welcoming dinner and announcements had been at the beginning of the school year. The circular tables draped in white linen were gone, with only a few long ones laden with drink bowls and various snacks taking their place along the wall without the windows, between the various pillars.

Nearly the entire school was there, Solene noticed. Of course the teachers were there too as chaperones. Everyone was dressed in finery, or what could pass for it.

Upon arriving, Roxana was the first to disappear into the dance floor, becoming one with the crowd.

Solene didn't see Dorian yet, so she joined Willa over by the punch table. There, they each got a cup and watched the dancers. 

Willa gasped, and she pointed. "Over there, that's him!" 

"Who?" Solene blinked.

Pink rose in Willa's cheeks to match her hair. "You know, the boy I told you about. . . Valo?"

Solene supposed she'd seen him once or twice around in the hallways. But she wasn't entirely sure what year he was in. He was clearly half-kitsune, with those snowwhite ears and a tail, and the partial heterochromia in his left eye, where ice blue was splotched with amber. 

Solene would have supposed him pretty like a doll, with a fair face with high cheekbones, framed by two thin braids that turned to an ice blue that matched his eyes. He was dressed almost entirely in deep indigo formal clothes clearly inspired by the traditional kitsune silhouette.

There was something about him, though, that made Solene uneasy. It was an aura like the first frost of autumn, the occasional reminder of the winters once were and the death it had wrought when it dared to overstep its bounds. Maybe it was the look in his eyes, strangely intense for a high school dance.

Still, when Willa caught sight of him, it was like she'd been enchanted. Maybe that was what love was, Solene supposed as she watched Willa's cheeks turn as pink as her hair, as she gave a little wave to the kitsune boy.

The kitsune boy blinked, and he blushed—only to wave a hand a little 'hello' back.

Willa looked back to Solene. "Oh, do you mind if I. . ."

"Go for it." Solene couldn't help but grin. She'd never seen her serious friend so enchanted, so infatuated.

Hesitation briefly crossed her features—but Willa clenched her hands over her skirt, her features resolute. "Alright. Wish me luck."

With that, she dived into the crowd of people and crossed the sea, just to drag Valo onto the center of the dance floor.

Solene remained along the wall, waiting for her date. 

She waited and watched as Roxana danced with some other witches in the high-energy number, while Willa and Valo awkwardly tried to do something resembling a slow dance despite the fast song nearby. 

Solene had to admit that it amused her—she hadn't realized that Willa was so smitten with her new study partner. She'd never really thought Willa the type to fall in love, for all that she read fairytales.

If there was hope for Willa, then there had to be hope for her.

There would be hope for her. She had to believe that their curses could cancel each other out, or maybe they could avoid them together. 

Her heart beat a little faster as she scanned the sea of faces again. Still no Dorian. She pressed her lips together and ran fistfuls of her skirt between her fingers. 

What if he didn't come?

What if she'd made a fool of herself and exposed her heart and her curse for nothing?

What if she should have stayed in the dorms?

Dark energy swirled around her with all of the worst thoughts. Then she saw him, coming in with the other late-comers and last-second drifters. He darted past the others and weaved through the student body, only to stumble to a halt a few feet in front of her. He smiled awkwardly. x

"Sorry I'm late." He adjusted his suit jacket nervously as he closed the distance between them. "I hope it hasn't been too long?"

Solene just smiled. No curses would plague them tonight. 

"You're forgiven," she said as she slipped her arm into his. "As long as we dance, that is."

Dorian bowed his head. "By all means then—lead the way."

And lead she did, sending the flare of her dress's skirt into the air, a swirl of scarlet as they joined the dancers. 

...

There was some kind of spell in the Anouir Institute's ballroom that night. With the lights and shadows shifting through a rainbow of colors, the heat of everyone dancing together, the energy radiating off of each other—it was intoxicating. Solene felt like she could have danced all night.

But underneath the thrill, something about it made her uneasy. Something wasn't right.

The doors slammed shut with a sound reminiscent of thunder.

Everyone had stopped dancing and was looking at Willa and Valo.

"No one's leaving the party." The boy's voice was cold and soft like the fall of snow—but had a way of conjuring deafening silence all the same. "I'm afraid this is a hostage situation. The Astarte send their regards."

Willa pulled away and screams started through the ballroom, only to be cut off as a wave of howling icy winds ripped through the ballroom. Solene raised her arms to cover herself, and tried wildly to think of fire, of warmth, of anything that could spark magic to action, that could stop the impending lifelessness of winter.

Never had she felt such cold—even the snow that Dorian had conjured was nothing like this. Where those delicate flakes had felt like a little kiss on her skin, the snow that the kitsune boy commanded were like crystalline knives, and pervaded all, leaving only silence in its wake.

Dorian embraced her, his warmth shielding her from the blizzard in the ballroom. A small eternity passed in the horror and the cold.

Then, it stopped.