Dax tries to stifle a laugh—not very well—and I realize I’ve been tripped up by another one of these “figures of speech” that I keep running into. I’m beginning to hate the English language.

“No, I mean, don’t go following Daphne around the party. Pretend you barely remember who she is.”

“I thought you told me not to be rude to her. Isn’t indifference the same?”

“No, what I’m saying is don’t act all stalkery. Let her come to you. Let her be the one to engage.”

“But what if she doesn’t?”

Dax looks me over and adjusts my tie one last time. “Trust me. She will.”

“I don’t know about all this music business,” I say, stalling my departure for the party. “Perhaps joining the music department isn’t the right course. I should find a different way to get closer to her.”

“No,” Dax says. “I think the music angle is your best shot. I’ve been doing some research into it and found that there’s a whole neurochemistry to singing that we can use to our advantage.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“There’s scientific evidence that when people sing together their brains release oxytocin—that’s a neurotransmitter, a chemical, that’s associated with social bonding. It causes a sense of well-being and trust toward the person you’re singing with.”

I nod, liking the sound of that, even though I don’t know how to sing.

Another concern eats at me. “But it’s forbidden,” I say. “Music isn’t allowed in the Underrealm.”

“We’re not in the Underrealm anymore.”

“But still …” The idea of outright breaking one of the Court’s most steadfast rules makes me feel as though my nerves have been left exposed to the open air. “If my father finds out …”

“Simon signed off on this plan—granted, reluctantly—so he’s not going to tell on you. Not unless you do something impulsively stupid again.”

I shake my head, not wanting to rehash what I did in the grove once more.

Dax puts his hand on my shoulder. “I know it goes against everything you’ve been taught, but sometimes Champions have to make exceptions to the rules. Just be smart about which ones you choose to bend.” He slaps my shoulder. “Now, go knock ’em dead.”

I assume he means that I should make a good impression at the party, and not to follow the literal interpretation of that expression.

Chapter twenty-six

DAPHNE

Back in Ellis, throwing a party usually meant a handful of friends, chips, dip, and a movie projected onto the side of my mom’s barn. But I get the feeling the mayor’s party isn’t like anything I’ve seen in Ellis when I find the garment bag that Marta has spread out on my bed. I’d been planning on wearing one of the maxi-skirts that had come in my boxes of belongings, which arrived earlier in the week, but as I unzip the garment bag, I find the most exquisite blue dress that I have ever seen. It’s a cascading silk gown, the color of brilliant blue cornflowers, with a strapless, sweetheart neckline. The boning in the ruched, crossover bodice holds tightly against my chest when I zip up the dress. The gown is lit with shimmering glass beads along the lace-trimmed empire waistline, and ruched blue silk sweeps through the floor-length skirt and trails behind me in a romantic train as I walk.

Marta has left a shoe box along with the dress. Inside, I find a pair of silver satin pumps with a crystal flower accent along the bridge of the open toe.

I pin one side of my hair back behind my ear with a silk flower, and let the rest hang long and loose. I look in my gilded mirror.

The color of my dress makes my eyes pop in my tanned face, and I can’t help thinking that the design of the outfit invokes the image of the Grecian goddess of springtime.

For the first time, I feel happy that Marta knows more about what is going on in my life than I do. I would have felt like a real country bumpkin, walking into a party in a maxi-skirt and tee if other people were going to be in gowns like this.

I am about to tear the sales tag from the dress when I see the price. My mother could probably buy two new coolers for the flower shop for how much my outfit costs. Instead of ripping off the tag, I cut it off carefully with a pair of scissors I find in my vanity drawer. Maybe if I can manage to keep the dress looking really nice, I can sell it on eBay after the party. My mom won’t take money from Joe, but maybe she’d take it from me.

I am not used to heels, and I am walking very carefully down the stairs, wondering how I am ever going to ride my bike to Tobin’s house in this dress, when I see Joe standing in the foyer. He’s wearing a slim-fitting suit that no doubt costs even more than my dress, and he’s dangling a pair of car keys in his hand. I almost slip on a stair. Joe is going to the music department’s party. Of course he is. He’s writing the play, after all.

“Ready, love?” he says with that darned cheeky grin of his. “I thought we’d take the Porsche.”

“I’m good on my bike. Maybe you should walk. Drunk driving is still a crime, even if you have a wall full of platinum records.”

“That stings, Daph. That really does,” he says, clutching his chest dramatically. “I haven’t had a drink all day.” He counts on his fingers. “Three days, actually.”

As I get closer to him, I do notice the lack of a liquor smell lingering in the air. He’s even splashed on a bit of cologne, removed his longer extensions so his hair now frames his chin, and shaved. He looks better without the stubble.

“Good for you. I can still take my bike.”

“Good luck in that dress,” he says.

He does have a point. “I’ll walk, then.”

“Sorry, deary, it’ll be dark soon, and if you think I’m letting you out on those paths after what happened to that Perkins girl, you’ve got another thing coming. I nearly had a heart attack last time.”

“She’s the one who had the heart attack.”

“Sorry. Wrong phrasing, but the gist is, I’m driving you to the party or you’re not going at all.”

I give Joe a look that shows that I’m not amused. I don’t know where he gets off thinking he can pick and choose when to act like a real father. Though I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that part of me almost likes it. If his driving me to a party is enough to keep him from yucking it up with his good old buddies Jack and Daniels, it at least says something about him. What that something is, I’m not quite sure.