Page 27

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“Your voice will only be heard if you are willing to speak up.”

Author Unknown

N ia’s question hangs as heavily as the fog across The Divide.

Where the hell have you been?

Falling for an Unseelie fae probably isn’t the answer she’s looking for, but it’s the first one that springs to mind.

Because I have been falling, unbeknownst to myself, and what I feel for Ever is more than anything I’ve felt for another.

Not that I can tell her any of that.

So I slip out of my shoes and set them beside the door, pretending nothing is amiss. “My legs were feeling restless, so I went for a walk.”

Her harsh breath extinguishes the flame; gray smoke twists toward her face in the filtered moonlight. “With an Unseelie fae?”

Drats and damnation . “Nia, I can explain?—”

“I don’t want to hear more lies. I want the truth.”

“The truth is, I did go for a walk…to The Divide.”

“Heavens, Kerris, it’s one thing to venture there with your friends by your side, and another thing entirely to go to that cursed place without an escort. The Unseelie are killers, every last one of them. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“You’re wrong about them.” Everyone is wrong.

“Keep your voice down,” she hisses. “There’s no telling what will happen if you wake my parents.”

She’s right. I’m lucky my cousin was the one who discovered my secret and not my aunt or uncle. This is a good thing , I tell myself. A chance to quell her ignorance. “The Unseelie only kill to feed themselves—and to protect us. That bridge? They guard it every night so that the wolves and whatever other monsters prowl their land don’t cross into Rosehill. They keep us safe.” Without Ever and his people, there’s no telling what sort of beasts would have infiltrated the city, and all anyone on this side does is spread hate about them.

“That doesn’t change the fact that if anyone finds out you were with one, your reputation will be ruined beyond repair. You’ve already spurned the prince. Do not alienate yourself further by aligning yourself with one of them.”

I think of Ever’s hands on my body. The way his breath tangled with mine. The press of his lips to my skin. He is the only man who has ever made me feel this way, and all Nia cares about is my bloomin’ reputation.

Swallowing my truth, I tell the biggest lie of all: “We’re only friends. Nothing more.”

Although her eyes narrow, she must not feel like arguing because she bobs her head and says, “See that it stays that way.”

* * *

This morning, Nia’s eyes feel as if they’re burning a hole through my skull. I offer to do the dishes after breakfast to avoid having a conversation. That only gives me a brief reprieve, because when I finish, Nia sweeps into the room holding a box from Madame Ella’s, her eyes narrowed into slits and a stern set to her jaw.

She shoves the dress at my chest, forcing me to take it. “This arrived for you this morning. Try it on.”

“I will later.” When she isn’t in a strop.

“Do it now so that we can take it back if it doesn’t fit. We need to collect our dresses for the festival.”

Fine. I’ll try it on to appease her. Hopefully a walk into town will brighten her sour mood.

I bring the gown upstairs to where the others I’ve yet to alter sit in a stack beside my wardrobe. Sure enough, the skirt on this one is too long as well. What’s going on?

Nia enters my room without knocking, wearing a buttery yellow dress and a frown. “Madame Ella must be sending you someone else’s dresses.”

“I know.” The first dress she sent was tailored to perfection, but all the others have been too big. I return the dress to the box and grab two of the others I’ve yet to alter. If she wants the rest of them back, I’ll bring them another time.

With the parcels split between us, Nia and I make our way to Market Square. The sun warms my face and the air swirls with the delicious smells of spring and sugar.

Nia walks at a clip, seeming content to ignore me.

I despise the tension between us but don’t know how to make it better. She will forgive me for sneaking around behind her back eventually, right? She must.

If only she could see what I see.

If Ever didn’t have that hunt, I’d bring her with me across the bridge tonight. Perhaps when he returns, I’ll introduce them…whenever that may be.

When we reach Madame Ella’s shop, the place is as empty as it was the day I first arrived in Rosehill. The only sounds are our slippers on the marble floor and the hum of a sewing machine.

Nia and I set the boxes on the countertop next to the till, and Nia presses the bell.

The hum stops, followed by the click of heels. Madame Ella appears from behind a curtain, her cherry hair loose around her shoulders. “Welcome, welcome. So good to see you both again.”

At least someone is happy to see me today.

“Your Beltane gowns are finally finished and, Kerris, I have three of your mother’s dresses altered. Give me a moment to pack them up—” Her gaze falls to the boxes we brought, and her brow furrows. “Was there something wrong with the dress I sent?”

“I’m afraid the skirts are all too long.”

“We thought perhaps they were meant for someone else,” Nia chimes in, leaning a hip against the counter.

Madame Ella’s bracelets jangle as she slides the ribbon off the top box. “How is that possible? When I removed the ruffled panels, I didn’t change the length.”

“Oh, no. The ones you altered are perfect. I’m talking about the new dresses.”

Ella shakes her head as she lifts the lid. “I haven’t sent any new—” Her soft gasp leaves us leaning over the box. “I didn’t make these dresses for you.”

Lovely. Now I feel awful for not coming to see her sooner. Some poor woman is out there waiting for her dresses and two of them won’t fit her anymore. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve brought them right back the moment I realized they didn’t fit. I thought maybe you had the wrong measurements, so I shortened the skirts on a couple others, but I didn’t touch these.”

She sets the top box aside and opens the one below it. “You misunderstand. I didn’t send you these dresses at all.”

Nia picks up the mauve gown to inspect the stitching. “They’re not yours?”

“They are, but I made them…saints, it must’ve been over thirty years ago. They were commissioned by the king.”

Just when I thought this mystery couldn’t get any stranger. “Are you telling me I’ve been wearing the queen’s dresses this whole time?” Has Ronan been secretly raiding his mother’s closet? The thought makes me shudder. No wonder the woman despised me. I showed up to her castle wearing her bloomin’ gown.

“I know the queen’s measurements by heart, and this gown would never fit her. See. Look.” She stoops behind the counter and stands back up with yet another box. She flings open the lid and withdraws a stunning navy gown edged in gold lace with sequins sewn on the overskirts. Nia holds up the mauve gown next to it and, sure enough, the navy one is at least a foot shorter and a good few inches smaller in the waist.

There is absolutely no way these two dresses were made for the same person.

If the king commissioned these gowns and they weren’t for the queen and he has no daughter, then… “Do you think the king has a mistress?”

Madame Ella grimaces as she folds the queen’s gown back into the box. “That’s what I assumed at the time. He’d hardly be the first.”

That still doesn’t explain how the gowns ended up at my house.

Madame Ella leaves us to collect our Beltane gowns. While she’s gone, I return the mauve dress to its box, tracing the contrasting black ribbon accentuating the fitted bodice.

“What should I do with them?” It feels wrong to keep the dresses, especially since I have no clue where they came from.

“What do you mean?” Nia scoffs. “They’re vintage Madame Ella, Kerris. You keep them.”

I suppose that’s the best choice considering I wouldn’t know where else to send them. “Who do you think they’re from?”

Nia shrugs. “Does it matter? You received seven free dresses made by the most exclusive designer in the kingdom. Let’s just hope they keep on coming.”