Her brows slowly knit together.


    Upstairs, in the bedroom.


    M hade here to catch her breath and take a break, but she couldn''t really rx. As soon as she walked in, she went straight for her phone, just in case she missed any messages.


    She had barely picked it up when something on the nightstand caught her eye—a blush-pink rose, delicate and fresh, resting right where she would see it.


    A rose?


    She was certain she hadn''t put a rose there before.


    But she remembered: at the masquerade, she''d plucked a rose and tucked it behind her mask to set herself apart from the crowd, hoping it would help Forrest find her. Only, that flower had ended up in Lysander''s hands.


    And now, here it was, on her nightstand.


    Her phone slipped from her grasp and ttered to the floor. M''s pulse thundered in her ears, icy sweat prickling down her back.


    Had he been here? Was he still in her room?


    The fragile calm she''d managed to gather snapped in an instant.


    "M, listen to me-hey, what on earth are you doing?" Miranda pulled the bedroom door shut and turned around, only to freeze at the sight before her.


    M was frantically darting around the room, doing all sorts of odd things— throwing back the curtains to check behind them, peering behind the bathroom door, yanking open every wardrobe in the walk-in closet and tossing clothes out as if searching for someone.


    And now she was sprawled on the floor, looking under the bed?


    Miranda finally lost patience and hauled M out from beneath the bed, forcing her to sit down.


    "M! Get a grip!"


    She had to bark at her several times, even pinched her cheeks, before M stopped looking so dazed. "What''s going on with you?" Miranda demanded, thoroughly baffled.


    M opened her mouth to speak, but she was breathing so hard she couldn''t get any words out. She didn''t know if it was from the sudden panic or all the running around, but cold sweat kept pouring down as she struggled to catch her breath.


    She finally managed to lift a shaky hand and point at the nightstand.


    Miranda nced over, picked up the pink-white rose, and looked at it in confusion. "It''s just a rose. What''s the big deal?"


    A flower had her this spooked?


    "N-no, it''s not that," M gasped after a moment, finally forcing the words out. "It''s Lysander. Lysander left it..."


    After she''d managed to get the story out, Miranda fell silent in turn.


    What was there to say?


    She really had nothing to say!


    Back in the garden, when M told her side of things, Miranda had assumed M still didn''t know that the man in the cloak at the ball was Lysander. Turns out, she had figured it out ages ago!


    No wonder Lysander had threatened her into helping him.


    He must''ve realized-M already knew.


    Fantastic.


    With M''s skittish, anxious temperament, now that she knew everything, it didn''t matter if they stuck to Lysander''s n or went with her own slightly modified version-it was all going to be a nightmare!


    Damn it!


    If that guy already had a n, couldn''t he just hold back for once? Why did he have to pull off this creepy stunt and make things even harder? And then brazenly leave the stolen rose here-how did he even manage that?


    Who was he trying to scare, anyway? Jerk!


    This was a disaster.


    It felt like the n was doomed before it even started.


    Miranda sat there in despair.


    Seeing Miranda sitting motionless on the bed, speechless for several long moments, M assumed she was still in shock. Once her own? nerves had calmed a little, she poured everything out-her recent discoveries, the whole tangled story from start to finish.


    Miranda was floored.


    She''d known for that long? This was even worse than she thought.


    It just seemed more impossible than ever.


    But maybe, just maybe, finally getting all of it off her chest helped M feel a little lighter. Sure, she could confide in Forrest and share some of the burden, but Miranda was different. There were things she couldn''t say to Forrest-fears and feelings she could only spill to her best friend.


    Even if it didn''t change anything.


    Even after venting everything, and making sure there was no one else in the room, M still refused to stay in her own bedroom. Grabbing her phone and dragging a still-stunned Miranda with her, she made her way to Miranda''s room next door.


    The two bedrooms were side by side.


    Once M had locked the door and checked the ce from top to bottom, Miranda finally snapped out of it—her mind already racing.


    Okay, so there was a hup.


    But it was fine.


    She could adapt. The n could still work!


    That thought gave Miranda a jolt of energy. She grabbed M (who was peering under the bed again) and pressed her firmly onto the


    mattress. "M, telling me wo i


    exactly the right thing to do! Djust thought of a way to get rid of that clingy specter for good-once and for all!"


    "Huh?" M stared at her in surprise.


    She''d only spilled her secrets because the pressure had gotten too much— Miranda was the only person she trusted enough, besides Forrest, to tell everything. She hadn''t really expected Miranda to have any solutions.


    After all, she''d tried nearly everything already, and nothing had worked to shake Lysander off for good. Now that he was back, more relentless than ever, she was nearly at her wits'' end.


    All she wanted was a normal life. Was that too much to ask?


    What did he want from her?


    Rubbing her throbbing temples, M tried not to hope, but she couldn''t help looking at Miranda with a glimmer of expectation. "What''s your n?"


    If there really was a way out, she''d do whatever it took.