The room twirled around Wren, again and again, and again. She glimpsed Tor standing stiff-backed by the wall, then Celeste with her head thrown back in laughter. She tried to get her attention but Anika was commanding every drop of it and Wren quickly found herself marooned in a dance that had far outpaced its musical accompaniment. ‘I’m feeling a bit dizzy,’ she said, trying to pull away. Alarik pretended not to hear her. He twirled her like a spinning top, Tor’s face giving way to Ansel’s. Then there was Celeste and Anika, laughing in blurs of blue and silver, and as they glided closer to
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