Page 32

Morgana

“ W hy are there so many of them?” Tira whispers to me. “And why are they all so pretty ?”

Tira and I stare out into a room full of fae women milling about with drinks in their hands and hair half-done, servants trailing behind them with piles of beautiful fabric.

I search the crowds for any sign of Phaia, Helia, and her sister, but with so many fae around, I know they’ll be hard to spot.

“I think we have to get in there and mingle,” I say to Tira, who looks alarmed at the prospect.

A melodious voice drifts over to me.

“Your Highness, I’m so glad you could come.”

I turn around to look into the porcelain-skinned, perfectly symmetrical face of Lady Naia.

She glides toward me with an outstretched hand.

The last time I saw this woman, she was practically wrapped around Leon, welcoming him home.

I didn’t get to see how that interaction ended.

I was too busy being escorted from the throne room to prepare for a deadly test to save Leon’s brother.

And this is the reward I get for it.

I force my face into a smile as I reluctantly reach to take Lady Naia’s hand, which grips onto mine tightly. She’s wearing several elegant rings, and as she curtseys, the jewels on them cut into my flesh.

“Thank you for inviting me,” I say.

“Well now, we could hardly have a foreign royal staying in the palace and me not invite her, could we?” she says. Her face is serene, but there’s the slightest hint of a sneer in the way she says “foreign.” I decide to test the waters a little further.

“It is kind of His Majesty to host me, but then I suppose he’s just returning the favor after we had Prince Leonidas to stay at my palace,” I say.

No need to mention that it was really my parents who invited him, or that some of that time Leon spent in the dungeons. I deliberately left that information out to see if Lady Naia will call me on it. That will tell me her real motive for inviting me here.

Lady Naia’s smile widens. “Will you be returning there after your trip, Your Highness?”

I hesitate, not sure how to answer.

“Oh how silly of me,” she says, touching her elegant fingers to her mouth like she’s misspoken. “I heard there’s been some falling out with your aunt. Of course, returning would not be so simple. Forgive me.”

I give her a long stare. The only thing I’m willing to forgive is my own stupidity for thinking this wreathing might go well. It’s clear to me now that Phaia and Desme were right, and Lady Naia has no intention of making nice with me. I turn toward Tira, calling for backup.

“Lady Naia, let me introduce?—”

“Oh good, you brought your own maid,” she says, flicking her eyes over Tira. “I’m afraid with so many ladies to wreath, we’re a little short-staffed at the moment.”

Tira opens her mouth to offer Lady Naia a few choice words, but I get there first.

“This is Lady Tira Holms, actually,” I say coolly.

“ Is she?” Lady Naia smiles. “My apologies, I had been led to believe that Trovian nobles were more…hmm. Well, anyway,” she said brightly. “Let me get you both a drink.”

“What does that mean?” Tira grumbles as Lady Naia steps away.

“Nothing, she’s just trying to make us feel insecure,” I shoot back.

“Also, Lady Tira?” my friend asks with a raised eyebrow. “When did I get a title?”

“Just now,” I say out the corner of my mouth. “I’ll knight you later. Now shush, she’s coming back.”

The blonde fae swans over, holding two flutes of something gold and sparkling.

“Please do head over to the dressing area when you get a chance,” she says. “I’m afraid I must check on the proceedings, but I have something special organized for you back there, Your Highness.”

Her blue eyes, bright as sapphires, twinkle at me as we take the glasses from her. Then she sweeps away.

“Okay, but what does that mean?” Tira whispers more furiously as we wander deeper into the clusters of women. She absent-mindedly lifts her glass to her lips.

“Don’t drink that,” I say, snatching it from Tira and setting both our glasses down on a side table.

“Good thinking,” Tira says to me with a knowing look.

I feel curious eyes dance over us as we wander between the chatting women, the other guests very clearly staring at us while they whisper among themselves.

It probably doesn’t help that Tira and I are also still wearing our simple day dresses.

Helia had said something about there being a chance to choose a dress for the ball here, but many of the women already seem to be wearing their formal gowns.

They look stunning in an array of tight-fitting bodices and huge, flowing skirts, adorned with delicate lace sleeves and sparkling embellishments I think might be real diamonds.

“Look, there’s Phaia,” Tira points.

Relief washes over me when I see the soldier standing with Desme toward the back of the room.

They’re in what must be the dressing area. Racks of gowns line the walls, and women move behind modesty screens, their hands appearing briefly to toss a rejected dress to their servants or snatch a different option to try on.

“I thought you’d maybe decided to skip the ball entirely,” Phaia says when she sees me.

It’s odd seeing her out of her soldier’s tunic and pants, but she looks ethereal in a black dress with moons embroidered across it, complementing her silver hair.

Desme smiles at us, looking dazzling in a gold dress.

“We’re just waiting for Helia-the-indecisive to finally pick an option,” she says.

“There’s nothing wrong with taking my time!” a voice calls from behind the nearest screen.

“You look beautiful in whatever you wear, my love,” Phaia calls back and rolls her eyes at me. “Have you chosen your dress yet?” she asks.

I turn to look at Tira, only to find she’s disappeared. I scan the space with a hint of panic, then relax when I see she’s already by the racks of dresses, flicking through them with a manic energy.

“They’re all so nice,” she gasps, eyes wide.

“Maybe the green one?” Desme says. “It would go with your cute freckles.”

Tira blushes and nods, taking a closer look at the dress Desme pointed out.

“And what about you?” Phaia asks me.

“I suppose I should go look…except Lady Naia said she had something ‘special’ for me?”

Both the fae women’s faces fall.

“Oh shit,” Desme says.

“What?” I ask, my panic spiking at their reactions.

“It isn’t done very often, but sometimes a host will pick outfits for certain guests to wear.”

“Can’t I just wear one of those and tell her I’ve chosen already?” I say, pointing to the dresses.

Desme’s already shaking her head. “Not if you don’t want to get disinvited from the ball entirely.”

These fae and their bloody rules.

Tira’s back beside me now, holding her pretty green outfit. “Yikes. That harpy’s probably going to put you in something monstrous,” she says.

Disappointment weighs on me, but my panic, at least, settles.

Naturally, I wanted to make a good impression to the fae court—okay, I wanted to look good to one person in particular—but in the grand scheme of things, a dress is a silly thing to worry about.

However hideous it might be, Leon’s bound to have seen me looking worse, after all we went through during our travels in Trova.

Plus, I’m here to help distract Tira, not for myself.

The way she’s happily clutching that green dress now gives me hope that she’s feeling at least a little more cheerful.

“So she’ll put me in an ugly dress,” I say with a shrug. “That’s hardly the end of the world.”

I get the attention of one of the attendants in palace uniform. “Excuse me, I believe Lady Naia left a dress for me?”

She nods. “I’ll go fetch it, Your Highness,” she says, and I wonder if I’m imagining her look of sympathy before she leaves.

I wait by the screen nervously. Helia finally decides what she’s going to wear and emerges looking sophisticated in a deep purple outfit while Tira tries on her green gown. She looks gorgeous in it, and I see the sparkle of pleasure in her eyes when we all tell her so.

But when the attendant returns, my happiness for Tira is drowned out by shock. Lady Naia’s cleverer than I realized. Putting me in something hideous would’ve been obvious sabotage, and that’s not her style.

No, it’s worse than that.

“ That’s a dress?” Tira breathes as the attendant hands it over. “It’s just a few scraps.”

I hold up the deep scarlet outfit. It’s not ugly, but it looks like there’d be barely enough fabric to cover my behind, let alone the rest of me. Heat climbs up my neck at the idea of wearing it.

“Are you sure there isn’t another part to it?” I ask the attendant, who just shakes her head and apologizes.

“Why don’t you try it on?” Helia says weakly. “It might not look so bad once you’re in it.”

I slip behind a screen, and what follows is a wrestling match as I try to wriggle into the garment. Luckily, most of it seems to be made of silk, which makes it relatively easy to slide on despite the tightness. When it’s on at last, I look in the mirror, and my horror rises a few notches.

Most of the dress is made up of two pieces of scarlet material, the front draping into a deep cowl neck, leaving a large stretch of skin exposed between my breasts.

Panels of delicate, almost sheer lace join the two pieces together on either side, hugging my ribs, hips, and thighs, leaving nothing to the imagination.

There’s no way I can even wear underwear in this thing.

I run my hands nervously over the front of the dress, the material slippery under my fingers.

The only saving grace, I suppose, is that all that training at the Lyceum has toned me up a bit, making previously soft parts of my body stronger and firmer.

But that doesn’t mean I want them on display like this.

“Come on out, Ana,” Tira says. “It can’t be that bad.”

I step out from behind the screen and see three sets of eyebrows shoot upward.

“Oh gods,” I say, covering my face with my hands.