Once I was satisfied that everyone was where they should be, I strolled into the ballroom and grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. He gave me a bored, disinterested look and moved on to the next person. Then again, I wasn’t wearing an evening gown cut down and slit up to there or dripping with jewels. In fact, I didn’t look at all like myself. Oh, the black pantsuit was a classier version of my regular clothes, but Jo-Jo had rimmed my eyes with smoky-black shadow and added a dark plum gloss to my lips. Add to that the red wig and black glasses, and I looked far more sophisticated and polished than usual. Now I had to hope that no one would recognize me until I wanted them to.

I kept to the perimeter of the crowd, drifting from one group of people to the next, all of whom were more interested in gossiping than keeping an eye on their surroundings.

“I wonder what Madeline wants.”

“Can you believe that she killed Blanco?”

“And I hear that she has acid magic too. . . .”

The rumors went on and on, as folks speculated about how harshly their new queen was going to rule them.

Finally, the chandeliers darkened, until the strands of lights winding through the orchids along the staircase were the only ones still glowing. Someone in the orchestra started a low, rolling drumbeat. A spotlight illuminated the top and center of the staircase on the second floor, and Madeline made her grand entrance.

She wore a white velvet gown that draped around her figure just so, and her thick auburn hair lay in loose waves on top of her creamy shoulders. The slender straps on the gown glittered with gold crystals, while the deep V in the center plummeted down into the swelling valley of her breasts. But I focused on the necklace that glimmered around her throat, along with the matching ring on her finger. They were the same gold versions of her crown-and-flame jewelry that she’d worn to my funeral.

The thick gold chain resembled a snake draped around Madeline’s slender neck, with the emerald in the center of the crown its evil eye. The pendant looked so much like Mab’s ruby sunburst necklace that I had to blink to remind myself that it wasn’t. I’d destroyed that necklace and the woman attached to it—just like I was going to destroy this Monroe too.

Now that I’d seen Madeline for myself, I pulled out my phone and sent a final text to all my friends. We’re a go.

Madeline paused at the top of the stairs, letting everyone get a good, long look at her. This was her moment, the one she’d planned and plotted and schemed so long for, and she was determined to savor it.

What she didn’t realize was that this was my moment too, the one in which my enemy was completely unaware, and I was going to treasure it just as much as she did hers.

Madeline smiled into the spotlight, her white teeth providing a stark, blinding contrast against her crimson lips. Then the spotlight clicked off, and the rest of the lights brightened again as she glided down the stairs. Appreciative murmurs sprang up in her wake, and even I could admit that she was the picture of beauty on the outside—and completely black, brittle, and rotten on the inside.

Just like me.

Madeline reached the bottom of the stairs and started working her way through the crowd, smiling, shaking hands, and generally making all the underworld lords and ladies feel as welcome as they could be in the heart of enemy territory. I melted back into the shadows a little more, and so did the rest of my friends. According to Silvio, Madeline had some sort of speech planned, and I wanted to hear what she had to say.

As Madeline moved from one cluster of people to the next, and it became apparent that she wasn’t going to massacre everyone on sight, the crowd relaxed a bit, at least enough to turn their attention back to their champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Apparently, the thought of being in mortal danger was enough to give most folks the munchies.

It took Madeline about thirty minutes to make a circuit of the room and talk to all the top-tier crime bosses. As she was making her rounds, Emery walked down the staircase and entered the ballroom as well, along with Jonah.

The giant did the responsible thing, going around and checking in with some of the waiters-slash-guards, probably looking for folks who were already drunk and might be potential troublemakers. I held my breath, wondering if Emery might leave the ballroom and check in with the giants who were supposed to be patrolling the rest of the mansion. But after making a much quicker circuit than Madeline was, Emery headed to the bar and got a Scotch, which she sipped with slow, obvious relish. Apparently, it was enough for her peace of mind that the ballroom was secure and that there weren’t any problems so far. Even with my wig and glasses, I didn’t want to tempt fate, so I made sure to stay out of her line of sight.

The only one who didn’t seem to be having a good time was Jonah. He went to the bar and started ordering doubles like there was no tomorrow. Maybe there wasn’t going to be, for him. He managed to down three drinks before Emery gave him a cold glare that had him scurrying off to stand in front of the terrace doors, an island of worry in a sea of tension. Jonah kept smoothing down his tie, and I could see the stains from the sweat on his palm that was soaking into the silk.

Now that Madeline had won the crown as the queen of Ashland, she would have little use for Jonah, something that he seemed to realize, since he was eyeing the doors as though he was thinking about slipping out of them and disappearing into the night. That would have been the wisest course of action for him. Actually, leaving Ashland the second that I’d killed Mab was what he should have done. But Jonah might live through this yet. Madeline was my main concern tonight—not him.

Finally, the acid elemental finished with her grand tour. She whispered something to Emery, who nodded. The giant handed Madeline a flute of champagne and then stepped back. Madeline moved to the center of the dance floor and waited while the giants passed out fresh glasses of champagne. When everyone had a drink in hand, the orchestra stopped playing, and a hush slowly fell over the crowd.

Madeline smiled and raised her glass high. “Cheers,” she called out, her smooth, silky voice ringing through the entire ballroom.

“Cheers,” everyone echoed back to her.

Madeline took a sip of her champagne, but most of the other folks gulped down the golden bubbly in one long, nervous swallow. Everyone knew that the most dangerous part of the evening was beginning.

Madeline waited until the giants had moved through the crowd again, refreshing the many drinks that needed it, before she spoke again.