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Andromeda Arendt was as familiar with the eaves of Schloss Mondschein's ballroom as other humans were with their beds

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Andromeda Arendt was as familiar with the eaves of Schloss Mondschein's ballroom as other humans were with their beds. With the ease of a cat, she hopped from beam to beam, each and every one her friend, the smell of oak and a bit of mold a welcome contrast to the overly perfumed air in the ballroom below.

With some simple knots, she secured the rope she needed to make her escape later. Hanging her armpits in the rope's noose and lifting her feet one by one from the beam, she tested its strength to the dramatic sway of the string orchestra down below. A slow faerie Waltz which was nauseatingly beautiful ... as were the Fae.

The rope would have to support her body weight when she clattered up to the roof later and then zip all the way down the castle along the outside wall. After tonight, there was no going back the way she came. She was no longer the inconspicuous child she had once been ... and glad of it.

As a child, she had spent many hours up here. Though a servant's daughter, she'd been a disobedient, curious rascal that refused to sleep while the upper rooms of the castle were still alive with debauchery and laughter. She'd been quick on her feet and small enough to go unnoticed.

She had watched them from the shadows, the family Mondschein and their guests, the rich and the noble, the mortal as well as the Fae.

Their extravagant costumes, purple and fuchsia dresses of shiny silks and satins, skimpy things in see-through organza, an abundance of feathers, and glittery jewelry. Andromeda had to squeeze her eyes to slits to avoid a glaring headache, the two dozen crystal chandeliers suspended between her and the party-goers not helping.

She had studied how they schemed and how they made merry. How they preyed on poor souls who couldn't count on fortune or magic to keep themselves out of harm's way. Like her and her family.

Little had changed, yet everything had changed.

She was twenty-one now. Ma had been laid to rest three years ago and pa had been shipped off to the asylum not long after, but she only had to close her eyes and take in the smells and sounds of the ballroom extravaganza to picture them in it.

Pa in his splendid livery of burgundy wool, a swirly pattern of gold thread stitched at the seams, the powdered wig he used to tickle her with. He would stand at the door, taking coats and umbrellas, urging guests to leave their weapons at the door, which sometimes they did ... and sometimes didn't, not until they had their laugh with the mortal servant first. Press a blade to his Adam's apple or crotch, cut some hair from his wig or buttons from his uniform—the cost would be deducted from his salary later, just another clever way of making sure he would never earn enough to change something about their miserable life.

And still, he would never complain. They were allowed to stay in the castle after all, with a proper, human family. Her father's words. Snort. Not hers, oh no, never hers.

Agreed, the Mondscheins were human, but proper they were most definitely not. They were as far from proper as Andromeda could imagine, but pa would gesture out the half-window of their basement room ... "Out there, Andy girl, you'll find nothing but shifters, mages, and Fae. It's not safe. Much better to stay here. Just keep your head down, and when you're lucky, they'll take no notice of you."

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