Chapter 87

• Rose's POV
• I wrapped my arms around myself because the night felt suddenly too thin—an ache of cold and shame that had nothing to do with the moon. Standing there, skin bare to the air, the bark biting into my spine, my breath came shallow and quick. Four pairs of eyes tracked me, and every stare felt like a blade: curious, calculating, amused. Heat rose and turned to ice in my throat; my hands trembled so badly I could barely make the simple motion of pulling my gown back over my shoulders.
• I tried anyway. The fabric slipped, clumsy and foreign in my fingers, and the movement that should have been automatic felt impossible—as if the weight of their attention made my arms heavy and my fingers thick. The clearing narrowed into a pinprick of light; sound flattened to the thud of my pulse. I could hear them shifting, the soft scrape of cloth, the click of leather—ordinary noises, and yet each one hammered at my sense of safety until it was gone.