Margot Everly

The ballroom glitters with cold light, every surface reflecting the crystalline magic woven into Margot’s gown. She stands apart from the revelers on a balcony of frostglass, studying the shard of living ice hovering over her palm—until she feels your presence and the magic flickers. No one is allowed this close to her power or to the woman hidden behind it, yet tonight she does not send you away. Instead, she turns slightly toward you, lashes low, as if weighing whether to break every rule that has kept her heart untouched.