Free Covenant by Sabrina Benulis

note.
    Angela grabbed it impulsively.
    You seem a bit shy, so I thought this might change your mind. I think it would look beautiful on you at the Ball. I’m sure my sister would have agreed. Perhaps I will see you there.
    Camdon Willis
    Angela let out a shaky breath, sudden relief flowing through her. She’d felt like her nerves had been cut, but now life could return. So—the design of the dress was a coincidence after all.
    Yet Sophia’s brow remained furrowed. A worried expression had tugged her smile away. “You have to go to the Ball now, I suppose,” she whispered.
    â€œWell, you’re coming with me,” Angela said. “And I don’t care what Camdon thinks about that. Until we inspect Memorial Park together, I’m not going to leave you alone.” Angela pushed back her long blood-red hair, taking a deep breath. “How can I not go? Did he really have to mention Nina like that again? I don’t know what I think of this guy, but I do know that he’s smart. I guess it couldn’t hurt . . .”
    â€œOf course not,” Sophia said. But she clasped her pendant tightly and never stopped looking at the dress.
    Â 
    Saturday evening arrived, leaving only hours until Angela and Sophia could go to Memorial Park and hopefully put an end to their fears. But for the time being, there was the Christmas Ball to think about, and it was admittedly wonderful to forget everything besides music, food, and the joy of being together on one of the most magical nights of the year.
    Angela steadied herself against Sophia, trying to climb the stairs of the Grand Mansion in her ungainly high heels. Despite the opulence of the night, the atmosphere weighed upon her, like flakes of iron fell instead of snow. Trying to look experienced and at ease, Angela nodded at other students entering the building. More than a few wore masks in red or gold that matched her own, and their eyes peered at her in curiosity from behind jewels and dyed crow feathers.
    Everyone passed across a low courtyard flanked by enormous angel statues.
    Angela refused to look up at the statues. The angels’ stone eyes could have been following her alone, though that had to be her nerves flaring up.
    Yet every second fled by painfully. Foreboding hovered and waited. Maybe they shouldn’t have come, after all—
    â€œYou look worried,” Sophia said. She climbed the steps beyond the unnerving statues gracefully, deftly swishing aside her silver dress’s lace when it got in her way. Her chestnut hair had been braided and sectioned into two elaborate pigtails that would have looked silly on anyone else.
    But Sophia had the magical ability to look good doing and wearing almost anything.
    â€œOr,” Sophia continued, “is it just that you’re not used to wearing an evening gown?”
    â€œPoint taken.” Angela sighed, wishing there was a mirror somewhere. She felt odd, like every other strand of hair was out of place. She took off the mask, finding it suddenly silly. “Actually, I don’t think I look too bad considering I’ve never been to a formal dance in my life. Though I think I have you to thank for a decent appearance.”
    It was true. Sophia had splashed lipstick onto Angela’s mouth, rolled up Angela’s long blood-red hair into a high bun with two glittering combs to keep it in place, and forced her to borrow shoes with heels resembling pointy spikes. Angela had kept the arm gloves, but instead of wearing her favorite leather gloves with holes for each finger, she’d donned elbow-length gloves of opaque black lace.
    The result was that Angela looked much older, and she stood half a head taller than everyone around her. But no one could help her balance.
    â€œThat’s it,” she said shortly. “I’m taking these shoes off. God, they hurt like hell.”
    â€œWhat? You can’t do that,” Sophia said, laughing