Celaise swallowed black wine, and the world rippled outward from her, ready to change, waiting, urging her to spin new wonders for the lady. She hadn’t moved toward the dressing room. A scent of ripe plums told Celaise the lady was leery of leaving the guests. Celaise would have to change her in sight of everyone. No, Celaise would get to. She had the honor. This would be unforgettable. Legs clicked and clattered across the glass. The spiders dragged their yellow-spotted bodies up the columns. Guests pointed and jumped to their feet. Women stood atop pillows. Men checked under tables. The room filled with the aroma of juicy phobias. Celaise didn’t even need to Feast. She was already stuffed. The black wine that teemed through her she had sucked from her brother. It’d come from murder. Her power seared her. She had to hurl it up. Celaise needed to be free of the shame and sweetness. Out, get it out! Her stomach lurched, but her throat clamped shut, betraying her, trapping in the black wine.
