Page 5

I need to plan the assassinations, to keep feeding information to Avalon Tower. I can warn our spies of the next attack, save more lives. I’ll do my best to conceal from Talan that I’m the traitor he’s hunting. But I need to delay the wedding, at least until we can get some agents in Lauron to fill in my life there. With increased scrutiny on me as a princess, people are bound to discover the truth about my fictional past.

As my thoughts churn, a cold sensation slides across my wrists. I lift my arms, and my jaw sags. Silver symbols writhe across my skin, intricate spirals that resemble three-petaled flowers. The next moment, the symbols are gone.

I stare at my blank wrists. Maybe I’m hallucinating from exhaustion.

I drain the tub and refill it, washing myself with clean water. I shampoo my hair under the flowing tap and rinse it. Grabbing a towel when I’m done, I dry off, then moisturize my skin with lavender-scented oil. As I rub in the oil, the bruises on my body fade. I add a little oil to my hair and work it through the tangles. Staring at my reflection, I almost recognize myself again.

Holding the towel close, I call for Tilly.

She slams through the bathroom door with unnecessary force, like she’s about to pillage the bathroom or start a bar fight. Glowering, she folds her arms in front of her chest.

“Can you make my underwear before I go out there? I don’t want the bad luck,” I tell her.

“You’re actually going to marry him?” Ranae asks from behind Tilly, her voice dripping with venom. “Do you really think it’s a good idea?”

I shrug. “Who am I to say no to the prince?”

“Drop the towel.” Tilly snaps her fingers at me, an annoying affectation I can only assume she picked up from Jasper.

Sighing, I let the towel fall to my feet and try to ignore the weirdness. I’m standing in front of two women who openly loathe me, stark naked.

Tilly whispers a spell, and thin wisps of white silk slide around my backside, then stitch together to form an extremely tiny pair of underwear, delicate threads binding together over my hips.

“There,” she says, “now you can put on the dress.”

“And the bra?”

She shakes her head. “Jasper doesn’t approve of bras. Go on.” She jerks the bathroom door open and gestures back into the room.

Holding my arms over my breasts, I return to my bedroom, feeling the weight of their scrutiny on me.

At least I have a cover story to explain my very un-Fey-like self-consciousness.

Still as the stone wall behind him, Talan stares at me with a darkened expression I can’t decipher. Whatever he’s thinking, he’s not moving an inch, and darkness stains the air around him.

Jasper snaps his fingers twice. “Tilly, help me with the stitching. Now, listen to my ideas. I want ethereal. I want dusky, evenfall, gloaming, aerial diaphanous, vespertine chiffon. Do you understand, Tilly? Nod your head if you understand. Good. She has a perfect figure. Full breasts, perfectly round. More than a handful, yes. Let’s make sure the fabric cinches at the bodice to accentuate that nice waist. And there needs to be a plunging neckline. One that runs to her navel, a deep V to show off the full breasts. Keep the nipples covered, as is her peasant tradition, but we’ll show off the interior spheres of the breasts, yes? We will do a leg slit on one side. Short capped sleeves.Vespertine.”

As he speaks, Tilly is weaving her magic, and a beautiful fabric of pale periwinkle begins to drape over my body exactly as he described. Little gems stitch onto the fabric, forming organic tendrils. Slowly, the vine-like designs take the form of weeping willow branches that match Talan’s tattoos. A few more gems appear, sparkling with warmer tones like pale coral and amber. The dress reminds me of the liminal, golden hours of twilight. The material is delicate as dusky clouds, and thin layers drift over my breasts and down the top of the skirt.

“Jasper,” I say with all seriousness, “this is absolutely beautiful. You really are a genius.”

I turn to see Talan staring at me. He stalks closer, his lips parted, and his gaze sweeps down my body. “Perfection.”

They leave,and I carefully pack my wedding dress in a leather bag and change into a warm blue wool dress for our journey. The soft fabric wraps around me, and I’m desperate to climb into the bed and sleep for days. But as a spy, I don’t have that luxury.

Before I’m marched off to my wedding, I need to get a message to Nivene.

Quickly, I pull out a piece of parchment and transcribe an encoded message, an update for Avalon Tower. If I end up forced into marriage with Talan, they need to get agents into Lauron to pretend they’ve seen me before and make sure none of the locals talk.

Candlelight wavers over the room as I scribble in code. Each stroke of the pen is a blade carving a secret that puts my life at risk.

Talan’s deep murmur echoes in my thoughts, sending chills dancing up my spine.I will crush his bones into dust, then hang his head from the castle door...

I’m halfway through my message when footsteps echo outside my room. Shaking, I shove the paper into my small leather bag. My heart hammers, my skin cold with sweat, but I disguise my features with a mask of calm.

Talan strides into the room like he owns everything in here, including me. And I suppose he does. Who am I to say no to a prince with this much power?

He carries a finely crafted leather bag. His wedding clothes, maybe?