Page 34 of Inked in Emeralds (Inkbound #3)

I rubbed my eyes, blinking down at the scribbled notes and sketches I’d spent the last hour on.

The paper was full to the margins, but I had yet to come up with anything of substance, just half-formed good ideas, and an equal number of really bad ones that wouldn’t come close to solving the forge’s problems.

I squeezed the pencil tight enough to nearly snap it.

You can do this, I told myself, for the dozenth time, but the words felt hollow.

I was in over my head. In the past, getting stuck had meant I needed to relax and trust in my subconscious to step in and solve the problem for me.

Even before I’d known I was a Whisper, my magic had been a tiny ember inside that helped guide me.

And, now that it was gone, I was grasping at straws, frantic and making mistakes where normally I wouldn’t.

I snatched up the loupe again, pressing it to my eye. The lens still magnified the tiny lines and curves in my drawing, but the little threads of magic I’d once been able to see were nowhere to be found.

A curse slipped past my lips as I tossed it down, shoving it to the other side of the desk.

My chair squeaked as I pushed away from my workstation and stood, stretching my aching back.

Dinnertime was quickly approaching. I let out a long sigh, glancing into the hall, where Hook had appeared an hour earlier before disappearing again into his room.

Where had he been all afternoon?

“Did you look in your closet yet?”

I jerked back, surprised to see Billy suddenly standing in the doorway.

“Boy, you’re stealthy.”

“Yeah. It’s my thing.” She crossed her arms and leaned on the door jam. “So did you?”

I frowned. “Look in the closet? No, not yet.”

“Well I have, and this is looking like it’s shaping up to be a fancy event we gotta attend. You want to start getting ready? You can help me pick a dress, and maybe I can help you with that hair?” One winged brow shot up, and I couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“That bad, huh?”

“Not great,” she admitted with a grin.

I was glad to see that she looked far more rested and at ease than she had before the nap. In fact, she seemed lighter…freer somehow. Maybe telling her story had helped her some after all?

“Come on, Princess. Stalling isn’t going to make it any easier.”

I gave the notes on my desk one last longing look and pushed myself to stand. A couple hours away from it might be good. Maybe it all needed a little time to brew inside my head.

Somehow, it never occurred to me that this Billy O’Donnelly would have any clue about hair or clothes, but just like every other version of the woman, she was full of surprises.

Forty-five minutes later, she’d stuffed me into an emerald green column of silk that skimmed my modest curves in the most flattering way.

Better yet, with a little water, a dab of hair cream, and a lot of muscle, she’d managed to style my chin-length chestnut locks into a sexy side-swept tousle.

“Wow. You’re a genius.” I turned left and right, admiring myself in the mirror.

“Damn right I am. Now get out so I can finish dressing myself.”

We’d picked a gown for her as well, but I knew she didn’t feel comfortable with me seeing her get dressed, so I didn’t resist as she herded me toward the door like I was a reluctant cow.

“Be out in a few.”

She closed the door in my face, and I wheeled around just as Hook stepped out of his room.

I froze in place, the breath in my chest stilling as I stared.

He was painfully handsome in the tailored waistcoat, the black velvet hugging his broad shoulders, silver accents curling around his collar to create the perfect foil for those onyx eyes.

Clean-shaven, the angle of his jaw was even more pronounced.

Despite the distance between us, the sandalwood and spice of his skin reached me.

My breath caught in my throat as his gaze turned molten, sliding slowly from my face to my feet and back up again.

His attention was almost physical, sending heat flooding through my cheeks and my heart into a frantic stutter.

It was a relief when Duncan’s door swung open, shattering the tension between us.

He stepped out, glancing between us as he straightened the sleeves of his fitted jacket.

“Am I interrupting something?” His eyes seemed even brighter than usual, practically glowing in contrast to his dove gray waistcoat.

He looked every bit the second son of a king raised in privilege, and the difference between the two men had never been starker than it was now.

As sharp and refined as Hook appeared in those clothes, there was still an untamed wildness to him that no suit could hide.

I shook my head in response, still not trusting myself to speak.

Duncan’s eyes traveled appreciatively over my gown, and he smiled. “You look great.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Hook deadpanned.

I whipped my head toward him in surprise and Duncan barked out a laugh.

“Sure, you look good too.”

It was their first time in the same room together since the fight and, so far, so good. I could only pray that Billy had it right, and this fragile truce would stick and maybe even grow stronger.

As if I’d wished her into existence, her door swung open, and she stepped into view.

If the deep blue gown had looked lovely when I’d pulled it off the hanger, on Billy, it was a dream.

Her headscarf was gone, revealing a tumble of tawny-colored hair that framed her face in soft, feminine curls.

Her dress was covered in a million beads, cut low to reveal award-worthy cleavage, and clung to her in all the right places on its way down over her waist and hips.

The rough and tumble ranger we all knew was nowhere to be found.

She chewed on her bottom lip for a second, then threw her shoulders back and popped one hip to reveal a slit that bared a swath of skin from ankle to thigh, vamping it up.

“What do you think?”

It didn’t take a witch to know what Duncan thought. He was staring at her, eyes wide, looking like someone just slapped him with a fish.

“You look like a goddess, Billy.” He breathed the words, choking a bit on her name.

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” she snorted, her cheeks flushing.

I shook my head in awe. “If we’re supposed to charm them tonight—honey versus vinegar—then you’re a whole damned pot of honey.”

“Agreed,” Duncan added.

She waved us off with a harumph, but not before I noticed the sparkle in her gaze. “Eyes up here, Ox.”

Bonnie let out a squawk as she lit onto Duncan’s shoulder and preened herself.

“Bonnie wants to look her best too,” Billy added with a chuckle.

The morning’s tension seemed to have vanished by the time we made our way toward the dining hall a few minutes later. As we got closer, I couldn’t shake the anxious feeling in my gut.

We were still woefully unprepared for tomorrow night’s trials, and what little we’d learned hadn’t told us much. Wisdom. Heart. Courage.

And while tonight wasn’t a physical battle, the stakes felt just as high as they had at the training grounds this morning.

At least you could see a fist or a sword coming.

The people of Emerald City didn’t need a blade to stab you in the back.

As much as The Wizard of Oz might need reassurances from me, I could use some myself.

He might be a fraud, but his influence was all too real.

If we did find a way to succeed in the trials, we’d need the folks of Emerald City on our side if we wanted a chance in hell at marching on Almira’s fortress in Oz and taking her down.

And if we didn’t pass my mother’s tests?

We’d need them even more. Which meant I had to show Willy Fallowell, The Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz, exactly why his doppelganger loved me so much.

I squared my shoulders and prepared to play the most dangerous game of all.