Antoinette and I were beneath the curtains of a willow tree and outside of the heated pressure cooker that was the rest of the dance. The cool, autumn night air cleared my panic a little, so I could at least find my next obvious step.

“Wait one second, just one second. I’ll be back with help. Okay?”

She looked up from where she’d had her face in her hands. She was snow-pale. I was reassured by the assertion in her voice: “Don’t. If any strangers know, they…”

“No, no. I’m gonna get our friends.”

“Sylvain,” she said.

“Absolutely.”

“If this is from your potion… Dead. Lawsuit. All of you,” she snarled, shielding her face again.

I ran back into the ballroom, skirts in my fists. I wasn't shy about calling Rémi's name, but I at least tried to sound more like a dumb, over-excited friend than someone having a total freakout.

Thank god he was so tall. I spotted him in a crowd of his friends, looking around for the source of all the yelling. I waved at him.

When he reached me, I grabbed his wrist and dragged him, explaining, “Something’s wrong with Antoinette. It’s like she got sick out of nowhere, it’s really freaking me out.”

As soon as we got outside on the balcony, he knelt next to Antoinette and began asking her questions about how she felt. She was speaking in a whisper through her fingers, and even though I could hardly pick out her words, I could tell she was becoming more insensible by the second.

I, meanwhile, thought I might puke into one of the billion flower bushes crowding the balcony.

Oh. Crap. Flower bushes.

Sure enough, in the dim torchlight, I could see the telltale signs of my magic reaching its claws into the roots and soil: flowers were blooming rapidly, stems were twisting, leaves were fluttering like rattler tails.

“I’m gonna–I’m gonna get Sylvain.” I spun to the glass balcony doors without waiting for an answer. And ran smack into Louis.

As the two resident tiny people of the friend group, we were thrown back with equal force. Lou bonked into the doorframe and a suddenly-appearing Étienne caught me by the hand. As soon as I was righted, he awkwardly let me go, and I babbled over his questions: “We’ve got a serious problem. Where’s Sylvain?”

Lou said, rubbing the back of his shoulder, “I think he’s dancing with someone? He–”

“Thanks!” I squirmed between them. Holy crap, I had to calm down before I turned the place into a jungle. Focus on the task. Focus on the task. Like, okay, screw Sylvain, but if anyone would know what to do, it was the guy who seemingly had the curriculum for every class downloaded into his brain.

True to Lou’s word, I spotted Sylvain on the dance floor, looking scowly as ever with some unfortunate girl who’d probably been working herself up all night to ask him for what turned out to be the blandest waltz in history. And I ruined it by practically screeching at him, “Ireallyneedyourhelprightnow!!!”

Maybe I was extra convincing. Maybe my otome protagonist powers were working overtime. Maybe he really didn’t want to be dancing. Either way, he dropped the girl like a hot potato and followed me.

Finally, the entire gang was on the balcony. Rémi told me to shut the doors and dim the gaslamps so the billion indoor lights would make a wall of reflections on the glass, preventing the guests from peering in on us–maybe Antoinette made it clear to him, too, that she didn’t want anyone else involved. Why not? I bet everyone in that room would leap at the chance to help her and get brownie points with her family…

…Actually, maybe that was exactly why she wanted it to be a secret.

It seemed like Rémi alone was keeping Antoinette from totally folding into a rumpled, glittery, balled-up napkin. Sylvain was studying her, touching her gingerly in some doctorly way, as Rémi gave him all Antoinette’s answers from earlier.

"We need a professor," Lou squeaked.

"No way," Rémi said. "We can't let this get out. Imagine the rumours. Delphine daughter gets roofied?"

"That's not her fault!”

"She's a woman; she'll have an even harder time shaking the social shame than Étienne did. Chloé, sit here with her. If someone gets close enough to spot us, we want it to look like we're all chatting."

Rémi was being gently assertive and confident. I could hug him. Instead I just kinda squeezed his arm as I sat beside Antoinette on the side of the bench closest to the balcony doors, so I would shield her from anyone looking out. Her skin was clammy, temples dotting with sweat.

“And Lou, grab two glasses of water. Iced.”

“Err, my sisters might be looking for me, so…”

Étienne offered, “I can do it.”

“Nope. You attract too much attention. Honestly, you shouldn’t even be here. You should get mingling before someone notices you’re gone and–”

“Like hell,” Étienne shot back.

Rémi quieted. Then he gave the prince an appreciative look. “Alright, then. Lou, you’ve fought off your sisters enough. I believe you can come back unscathed.”

As Lou scurried off to his task, Sylvain was methodological, calm, seeming much older than all of us as he checked over Antoinette and asked her much more useful questions than the ones going on in my head: What??? Who??? Where??? How??? She could barely answer now. Pale as calla lilies. Staring at nothing when her eyes finally opened. Her hands had fallen from her face, too weak to lift, and the rest of her seemed as likely to collapse.

Once Lou came back and Rémi explained his intention with the water, Étienne dipped his pocket square into one cup and told me to hold it against the back of her neck, under her hair, a little instruction he said firmly, like it made him feel secure to provide one sure task. The other glass, we couldn't coax her to drink.

Then Sylvain, who hadn't been talking to any of us, flipped her wrist. I gasped. Thin tracks of sickly green were visible in her pale skin.

Sylvain swore under his breath. I returned the favour. He ordered no one in particular, “Find bluebells and rose roots. And Chloé, if you start screwing with the plants, get out of here.”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Okay. Jesus!”

Lou, Étienne, and I plunged into the walls and tubs of flowers that surrounded the balcony. Focus on the task, I reminded myself over and over–still, the sections of shrubbery I neared grew and twisted and tangled, forcing me to paw through dense puffy hydrangeas and delicate little daisies and curly lilies. The roses I found easily as they nicked my draping sleeves. I plucked them out of the dirt as cleanly as possible and handed them to Lou so I wouldn’t transform them into Audrey II from Little Shop of Horrors.

Étienne came back with the bluebells. Sylvain placed them all on the stone bench and then said, “Give me your shoe, Chloé.”

I did without question. He used the kitten heel to precisely crush open the bluebell stalks and the very base of the bells, exposing the pale insides. As easy as tying a bow, he wrapped the wiry rose roots around the blooms, pressed them flat and small, and told Antoinette to swallow it.

It took a lot of coaxing–could she even understand him? Did she know what was going on?–but finally, she did.

Next, he rubbed the flower paste on her pulse points like her wrists and behind her jaw. Heart pounding, I couldn’t stop staring at the green, root-like veins in her skin, hoping I wasn’t imagining them slowly receding. They looked toxic. They looked fantastical.

Finally, Sylvain sat back with a sigh. "It would work faster if we could increase the potency of the flower. Regardless, this will stabilize her."

“I can try,” I said.

"You’d only cause more problems. What would be the point?"

I couldn’t help it. I snapped, “Oh my god, can you go easy on me for two seconds? I–”

“Chloé, Sylvain,” Rémi said, “argue later, okay?”

I blushed. I guess my temper got ahead of me.

Lou asked, "What was that? What happened?"

Sylvain brushed his hands off. He let loose another sigh, and I sensed a bit more than exhaustion in it this time. "Someone poisoned her. I can’t be entirely sure with what, but it was at least partly Maiden’s Bane; nothing else makes those characteristic green tracks. It’s meant to make her lose consciousness for a couple days if untreated.”

My breathing went shallow. There was nothing in the game about that. Nothing. All the dark drama and mortal peril was locked into Marie's backstory, what with the arson and family murdering and all that. What was poison doing in the main timeline, and with Antoinette of all people?

Sylvain continued, “She should really visit the infirmary, but I’m certain she’ll insist on resting alone until she gets her bearings. Did any of you see her eat or drink anything?”

“She had a glass of champagne,” I offered.

“And she picked some canapés off my tray,” Lou said.

"You're sure you can't remember anything else? Anything suspicious?" Sylvain asked. He was looking right at me this time.

"I'll tell you right away if I do." I didn't like his implication.

Rémi wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers. "Okay, gang, fun’s over. Chloé and I will get Antoinette back to the dorm. Everyone else, act normal.”

Lou, Étienne, and Sylvain dispersed back into the party. Rémi and I waited with Antoinette until finally, she was sensible enough to drink the second glass of water–to chug it, actually, streams of it slipping out the corners of her mouth and soaking her dress, until Rémi had to pull it away.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

"Horrendous," she growled. “Just get me back to our room.”

We helped her up. Rémi and I arranged ourselves so we both held one of her arms, making her look less like a drunk we had to tow home and more like a princess we were both attending on her way to the royal ball.

Looking at our trajectory, my heart sunk. We had to cross the ballroom to get to the outer hall, where we could access the dorms. I bit my lip. Antoinette would be humiliated by any questions, suspicions, stares, or–

The ringing of metal on glass made me look up, puzzled. Same with everyone else in the ballroom.

There was Étienne at the head of the room, up on the dais before the quieted orchestra, tapping a spoon against his glass until all eyes were on him.

He had his most polished, most princely voice armed and ready as he said, "I wanted to thank you all for attending the Samhain Formal. Students, faculty, even," and here he glanced at Rémi and me, "the very best of our kingdom who have come to see the prosperous magic and minds of the new generation."

While the whole room was focused on His Royal Highness, Rémi and I hustled Antoinette through the back of the crowd towards the door. If anyone saw us, I sure wasn't paying enough attention to notice, only listening to Antoinette's shallow breathing and focusing on how the door kept seeming to get further and further away.

At the end of an eternity, we finally got to our dorm. Rémi and I set Antoinette on the bed and I said goodbye to him in the hall.

"Tell me what happens, or if you remember anything," he said. “I’ll pass anything on to Sylvain if you don’t want to tell him yourself.”

"Thank you so much, Rémi," I said. And suddenly my eyes filled up with tears. “If you weren’t there, everything would’ve fallen apart.”

"Aw, hey, firecracker. Cut yourself some slack." He gave me a strong, warm hug. I held on tight, trying to not get my tears on his coat and totally failing.

Rémi bade me goodnight and I locked the dorm door behind him. When I turned around, I found Antoinette curled up in bed, her hair and gown spilled around her like flames in a dusky sky.

She was still wearing her high heels and all her jewelry, the gems digging into her face and arms. I whispered, “Antoinette? Do you need help with your jewelry? You might break them…”

“Whatever. Whoever did this to me probably wanted to steal them, anyways.”

I took that as a yes. I carefully took off her strappy heels and unclipped her dozens of bracelets and necklaces, extracting them from the tangles of her hair. She limply lifted her head to let me take out her dangling butterfly earrings, but I didn’t touch the gold hoops that lined the cartilage of her left ear. Now that was anachronistic, but she rocked it so much that I couldn’t even snark at the game devs.

“Do you have any idea who did–?”

She yanked her knitted blanket over her head before I’d even finished.

I considered going back to the party to keep brainstorming on the events with the guys, but I felt like I’d ran three miles. Besides, I needed to stay in case Antoinette needed help. Sylvain hadn’t given me any more instructions, at least, so that was a comfort.

I cleaned off all my makeup, brushed out my hairspray, and changed into my cozy pyjamas, then slid shut the partition by my bed and turned on my lamp. Maybe the journal would give me some clues about what happened tonight.

I’d been checking it on and off since I realised it changed, but turns out recaps of your days weren’t needed so much when you were actually living them and not, like, putting a DS down for a week at a time. The only advantage was that sometimes it snuck in details from the ‘background’ of my life, things I ignored or forgot at the time.

This time was not so different. Antoinette’s page was disappointingly unhelpful. There was a new paragraph saying things like how beautiful she’d looked and how strange our argument had been and how scary it was to see her crumble. Apparently, she got into a fight with her friends when I wasn’t looking and she’d chatted with a business mogul, turning down his insistence that she dance with his son. It did say that she was suddenly poisoned…minus any clues about shadowy figures or masked assassins.

I threw the journal on my sheets. What was the point in this stupid thing if it couldn’t even tell me details about a poisoning?! Was it as confused as I was since this wasn’t part of the game’s code? How far could the events stray off the game before the whole world cracked in half?

The journal had fallen open onto Antoinette’s profile page, the spine worn by all the time I spent scouring it for hints on a day to day basis.

Antoinette and Rémi were engaged in a betting game. I wish I was there when they made their initial bargains; wouldn’t that be fun? It’s so nice to see them getting along…and maybe I could have been involved? Or, well, maybe not…

The drinks in this school are nothing like anything I’ve tasted before. Even the smell of my cherry-lemon champagne made my nose wrinkle and my eyes water. But Antoinette was raised on fancy foods like this, so Rémi gave her my glass. Sipping from my glass–well, that’s like an indirect kiss, isn’t it? I would have liked it even more if she gave me her glass.

Our fun night ended when–

The champagne!

In all the craziness of the night, I’d totally forgotten about our glass switcheroo. If it weren’t for the ‘indirect kiss,’ I’m sure I would have never remembered at all.

If Antoinette was poisoned by my glass…did that mean the poison was for me?