Page 33

“My, Your Highness, don’t you look a sight,” comes a smug voice. I look up to see Lady Naia standing in the dressing area, a triumphant smile on her face. Several other fae women turn at her words, and when they see me, I’m hit with a wave of judgmental stares and whispers.

My face feels like it’s burning up, but I try to get my flush under control, lifting my chin. I won’t be cowed by this woman, not when shame is exactly what she wants from me.

“Thank you, Lady Naia. It is fabulous, isn’t it?” I say, striding forward and twirling for the group like I don’t have a care in the world. “So clever of you to pick something in the Trovian style.”

A slight frown appears on Lady Naia’s face. “The Trovian style?”

“Yes, of course you must have known that these daring designs are all the rage in Trova right now. It must seem terribly modern to you, but we wear such things all the time.”

I smile and meet her gaze with a hard stare. Annoyance flashes in her eyes, but she nods.

“I’m so glad I could find something to suit your tastes, Your Highness. Who better to bring such innovation to our court?” she says. “Who knows, maybe we’ll see more of this kind of design in Lavail. Though perhaps not as much as we can see of you right now,” she says with a smirk.

Several of the fae women erupt into giggles and snickers.

My skin prickles with humiliation, but I refuse to look away.

“Luckily, I have nothing to be ashamed of,” I say, but my voice sounds weak to me.

“There wasn’t anything else you could find for Her Highness to wear, Lady Naia?” Phaia’s voice is usually a gentle melody, but she sounds steely now.

“Oh, but Her Highness has said herself that this is what would make her most comfortable,” the blonde fae responds. “Besides, I have the perfect shoes to go with it.”

She beckons an attendant forward carrying a pair of black shoes. I keep my eyes on Lady Naia as I take them, wondering what the catch is. They’re a little high, perhaps, but I’ve walked in heels before, so if she’s hoping they’ll trip me up, she will be disappointed.

“I’ll just put these on over here,” I say, backing away toward the screen.

I can’t bend over too far in this dress without exposing myself to half the women present.

As I slip behind it for some privacy, the volume of chatter rises again, the fae resuming their conversations now there’s no spectacle to whisper about.

I drop the shoes to the ground and slip out of my current ones—plain pumps to match my day dress.

“Are you alright back there?” Tira murmurs.

“Yes, fine,” I huff as I put the shoes on. I’m anything but. I don’t know why I’m letting this woman get to me so much, but her tricks are working. I feel incredibly foolish, wondering why the gloam I’m putting up with this instead of just walking away.

Because if you walk away, she’ll think she’s won.

I straighten and find I feel pretty stable in the shoes. That’s something. Maybe if I can just hold my head high as I walk out?—

“ Fuck .”

I take one step out from behind the screen, and I’m immediately in agony. It’s like I’m walking on needles, my soles burning with every step as if they’re pressing against hot coals. I look down, but there’s no sign of injury. This is magic at work, I’m sure of it.

“Ana?”

I look up at the sound of Tira’s voice, but my eyes quickly slide from my friend’s concerned face to Lady Naia’s. By now she’s standing with a different group of women across the room, apparently deep in conversation.

Yet as I take another step forward and exhale, trying to breathe through the pain shooting up my legs, I see her watching me. Something manic glints in her blue eyes, an intense energy both excited and like she’s on edge.

It hits me that this woman isn’t just trying to embarrass me. She wants me totally defeated. And while we’re both bound by the need to appear civil, she’s willing to sail pretty close to crossing the line.

And damn it, it’s working, because there’s no way I can go to the ball like this. With every shuffle forward, my urge to crumple to the floor grows. What’s worse is the pain bringing tears to my eyes. The idea of crying in front of these women is too horrible to bear.

“What’s wrong, Morgana?” Phaia asks as she, Helia, and Desme take my side by Tira.

“I…I don’t think I can go,” I gasp, trying to hold in the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks.

The fae throw dark looks toward Lady Naia.

“She’s done something to the shoes, hasn’t she?” Tira demands. “Are they hurting you?”

I nod. “I need to get them off, now.”

I feel like an idiot—a little girl trying to play grown-up games and feeling sorry for herself when she can’t keep up. But I have to admit I can’t contend with the likes of Lady Naia, at least not in this. I’ll give her what she wants; I’ll stay away from her precious ball.

I keep my head down as Tira helps me teeter over to a seat.

But will you give her everything she wants? What about Leon? Will you stay away from him too?

It’s not the same thing, I know it’s not, but if she can make me back down here, where will it stop?

Today, she makes me believe I don’t belong at a ball.

Tomorrow, will she make me believe I don’t belong with a certain fae prince—that he’d be better off with someone who understands his world and can bend it to her will accordingly?

I feel her watching me now, and I imagine her again wrapped around Leon, caressing his cheek as she gives me a smug smile. Jealousy flares within me, burning away some of the shame.

This is ridiculous. I don’t have to accept defeat; I just have to think smarter.

A servant floats by with a tray of drinks, and I snatch one up, yanking my shoes off with my other hand.

“Step back,” I murmur to Tira under my breath, and once she obeys, I let the goblet slip from my fingers.

The clattering noise it makes as it hits the ground is much louder than I expect, but all the better to get people’s attention.

Several of the noblewomen turn in time to see the dark red wine spill across the floor and cover the shoes.

“Oh no!” I put all I have into the performance, clutching my face, pretending to be completely horrified by what I’ve done. “I’ve ruined your lovely gift, Lady Naia. I’m so sorry. All this wine must’ve made me quite clumsy.”

Some of the fae snicker at my gracelessness, easily buying into the idea of me making a drunken fool of myself.

“I wouldn’t worry, Your Highness,” Helia says quickly, following my lead. “We’ll find you another pair. After all, a gracious host like Lady Naia wouldn’t dream of letting you attend her ball in ruined footwear.”

Lady Naia’s face sours, and I know I’ve got her in a corner now. She won’t be able to insist I wear the shoes without admitting she’s tampered with them, and I can’t be accused of deliberately insulting her by refusing to wear them either.

“Never mind, Your Highness,” Lady Naia says. “We can simply have them cleaned. I’m sure there’s a suitable aquari around here somewhere.”

Oh no, you don’t .

I fight back, refusing to let her trap me. “I couldn’t possibly put someone to all that trouble,” I say with a benevolent smile. “I’ll just wear the pair I came in.”

“Even better,” Desme jumps in. “I have a spare pair I’m sure will fit you. I have very dainty feet,” she says with a wink.

Helia ushers Tira and me over to the chairs where the fae hairdressers are working as Desme digs out her spare shoes.

I try them on while a talented woman pins my hair up in a loose twist, leaving some chestnut strands falling delicately around my face.

The shoes fit me despite our height difference, and I’m too relieved to even worry about the deep red lipstick one of the fae servants paints on me, muttering about how it suits my complexion.

“Nicely played,” Tira whispers to me. “She’s fuming.”

But when I glance her way, it doesn’t look to me like Lady Naia’s particularly disappointed.

“I’ve still got to go parade myself in front of the fae court in this scrap of a dress . I’m sure that will be some consolation to her.”

“You look devastatingly sexy,” Tira says with a grin. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Leon came at the sight of you.”

I smack her arm in playful outrage. “Tira!”

“What?” She raises her eyebrows. “Wouldn’t that be a good outcome? Surely by now you want to rub it in her face that he’s pining after you.”

I don’t know if pining is the word I’d use. I know Leon wants me, he made that clear yesterday, but that kind of raw, animal hunger isn’t what matters—at least, not as much as his actions.

“Just walk in there like you own the place,” Tira says to me as the women start setting down their glasses and picking up their skirts to proceed into the ballroom.

“Could you ever have imagined back in Otscold that we’d be doing something like this one day?” I ask Tira.

“Gods no,” she says. “Me an innkeeper’s daughter, and you all sickly and locked up in that house?

But we’re not defined by our pasts.” She says the last part to herself as much as to me, looking somewhere in the distance before turning to smile at me.

“Come on, let’s remind these fae that Trovian women aren’t to be messed with. ”

Returning her smile, I loop my arm through Tira’s, and we follow the noblewomen out.