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Chapter 24

IRIS

“I know it is a lot to ask.”

Salty sea air drifted through the open window, tinged with fresh lemon and sweet plum. The Queen of Marikaim stood before me, rifling through her wardrobe. Gowns in colors mined from the earth—from the deepest burgundy to vibrant turquoise—passed through her hands, each discarded one after another, none quite satisfying her.

Though Kel had declared us friends, I still couldn’t quite fathom that the Queen of Marikaim was lending me a gown from her personal collection.

The Iris of a few months ago would’ve laughed herself to tears.

“The gown I brought was damaged on our journey,” I lied.

In truth, it had been perfect. The deep plum silk skirt was topped with a layer of light chiffon, embroidered flowers and vines in varying shades of purple tracing the slit up the thigh. The bodice, sheer lace structured with boning, hugged every dip and curve of my torso, delicate beaded appliques across the bust shifting iridescent in the light. Flowing sleeves gathered at the wrists, scattered with floral that fluttered in the wind. It moved like liquid, pooling and bending in a way that felt...alive.

And the back was completely bare. Not a lick of fabric above the dimples at the base of my spine.

Don’t draw attention, Iris. Covered at all times.

It had practically molded to my body. Peeling it off to hide beneath the rest of my clothes had all but broken my heart. If I’d realized a gown would be necessary, I would’ve brought one of my own.

“I rather enjoy things like this,” Kel mused, picking up a citrine gown. She tilted her head to one side, squinting as she held it against me. “Do you have any preferences?”

Kel tossed the dress aside, not waiting for me to respond before resuming her browsing.

“I prefer my back covered.”

It had been so long since I’d discussed clothing with anyone other than Nadya or Zinnia—both of whom already understood my limitations.

She paused, hunched over the pile of discarded clothing, and an unreadable spark flickered across her face. “And the front?” she asked. “Do you prefer coverage there as well?”

“Only the back.” I willed my voice to remain casual.

Kel straightened, turning sharply and disappearing into an adjacent room. I busied myself with studying her walls. They were awash with color, every available space filled with silks and tapestries and art. Scarves and gems hung in meticulous order along her dressing table, the novel from earlier tucked with several others between jeweled bookends. When she returned, her arms were full, burdened by a cascade of green silk. She fluffed out the gown, displaying it with obvious satisfaction.

A sage-green skirt fanned out beneath a lighter corset, the color deepening as it cascaded down to an emerald hem. Stitched vines curled from the hips, climbing the bodice around a deep-plunging neckline. It reminded me of home.

I ran the fabric through my fingers, toying with the sash at the waist, secured by a golden pin.

“I thought it would suit your coloring,” Kel offered before vanishing once more. Upon her return, she handed me another garment—a sort of structured cape. “I think this will help you feel most comfortable.”

“It’s perfect,” I breathed, the tension that had been sitting heavy in my chest easing.

After excusing myself to the bathing chamber with both pieces in hand, I ensured the door was locked before stepping out of my clothes. The gown’s fabric cascaded over my skin, snug against the curves of my hips. Lacing the corset was quick work—years of managing it alone had made it second nature.

Facing the abalone shell mirror, I studied my reflection. The added cape resembled a short, sleeveless vest—thick, opaque fabric shielding my shoulder blades. The chain clasp secured around the hooks near my collarbones and the sash at my waist, keeping the front of the gown unchanged while thankfully concealing the goddess-damned tattoo. Two gossamer panels, inlaid with stitched vines, extended from each shoulder, falling elegantly over my bare arms.

Out of an abundance of caution, I summoned one of my Threads, tacking the cape’s fabric to the bodice. I couldn’t be tugging at the gown all night, and the homemade stitch would keep it from shifting. It was such a simple act, mundane in the scope of how most using their magic.

Shame burned through me anyway.

I couldn’t trust it. Couldn’t rely on it. Couldn’t want it.

I burned it off for a reason . To remain hidden. To keep questions at bay. To ensure everyone’s safety.

So, the ease in which I’d started weaving it into my life, the relief I felt dispelling a fraction of the power bubbling beneath my skin, startled me.

I felt like a fucking traitor.

Kel had changed by the time I returned, dressed in a two-piece turquoise gown that clung to her generous curves. Several strings of pearls draped across her shimmering dark skin, adorning her neck, wrists, and waist. She removed her silk headwrap, allowing her braids to tumble free, then twisted them into one thick plait decorated with silver clips. She’d swapped her tiara for one that matched her gown, the aquamarine gems inlaid in twisting silver.

Kel was a mythical beauty. As harrowing in her grace as the contradictory elements of her realm—the fluidity of a river combined with a sparking blaze.

“You look stunning, Kel,” I said as I took the seat she motioned toward in front of the vanity.

“As do you, Iris of Vaelithe.” Her fingers moved quickly through my crimson strands, weaving small plaits throughout the loose waves.

I fought the urge to tug at my dress.

“Since I have you here, I must ask—” I met her gaze through the mirror, my throat tightening as she twisted sections of my hair and pinned them back. “The story of your courtship with the prince. Was it true?”

I took a deliberate pause, choosing my words carefully. “My perception of him has shifted many times since we met,” I admitted, giving her carefully curated truths. “Not always for the better. But not always for the worse. He is a difficult man to understand, but…” I allowed a genuine smile. “He has good intentions here, with you and your people.”

Kel considered me for a long moment. “I admit I was skeptical of your arrangement at first. I do not favor partnerships formed for anything less than love.” She reached for an emerald-jeweled comb, placing it above my ear. “I was hesitant to believe it, but I’m glad to hear your feelings for him are true.”

“Yes, well,” I laughed, my nerves fraying as she turned me to face her. She dipped her fingers into a pot of golden shimmer, patting it across my cheekbones and eyelids. “Like I said, he is difficult to read. He doesn’t?—”

“He was not who I doubted.”

I swallowed past the ash on my tongue. Her words swirled in my head, the certainty pushing in on all sides. Lying had become so deeply ingrained in who I was that I hardly registered it anymore. For some reason though, with Kel, each one lingered at the back of my throat. Ghosts of stories laced with falsehood.

Soft hands trailed across my face as she finished my makeup, then spun me toward the mirror. The shimmer caught the golden flecks in my eyes.

“And you?” I asked, grappling for a new topic of conversation.

Kel placed a golden chain around my neck, pulling my hair through before stepping back to admire her handiwork.

“There is someone,” her voice softened. “Jareth does not approve. She isn’t of noble blood.”

“And you allow that to sway you?”

“Divine, no. Jareth’s connections in this realm still far outweigh my own, but nothing will stop me from being with her if that is what she desires. She has reservations, for now.”

Kel linked our arms, checking our reflections before leading me toward the double doors.

“One day,” she said softly, “I hope to make her my queen.”

“Why do you allow Jareth to remain your hand? Pardon me for saying so, but he is vile.”

“Sometimes, we cannot pick the rotten fruit just yet—we must wait until the time is most advantageous.” She tightened her hold. “But with allies like you, Iris of Vaelithe, I suspect it won’t be much longer.”