Page 52 of Of Rime and Ruin (Sirens of Adria #2)

Chapter forty-nine

Nahla

He leaves me with instructions to wear something dazzling and meet him after sunset—for his better-than-sex plot to regain my favor.

Already, nervous eels slither within my stomach, and I catch myself staring at the door long after it’s closed behind him, wondering what the night may hold. Will he wine and dine me? Draw up a hot chocolate bath?

Soon enough, Deirdre arrives to help me with my wardrobe, and after four days, I taste freedom at last. She smiles encouragingly, holding the door wide open as I peer into the light.

“She has emerged!” Perrin gasps. “Thank the goddess.”

“Pleased to bring you some entertainment tonight, Sir Perrin.” I drop into my sassiest curtsy, and he laughs. My heartbeat launches into my throat, fluttering nervously as I step into the hallway.

Four fucking days. Will Aethan force me back in here, after this is all over? Or has he seen the error of his ways?

“You’re in for a real treat tonight,” Deirdre says, her eyes sparkling. “This way, love. We’ll get you cleaned up for the ball.”

Deirdre leads the way, and Perrin trails us, whistling a happy tune.

Warning lifts my scales. It’s too good to be true—sudden freedom, Aethan making amends through dancing. The strategy screams Winona to me. Clean me up, give me a pretty dress, and make me perform for the spectators. How many strangers will I have to charm tonight?

My legs stretch out, muscles warming. Shit, it feels good to walk over ten paces in a straight line. I bristle. Asshole. His plan had better be phenomenal. I told him I’m difficult to impress, and I’m sticking to it.

We enter a grand dressing room, and my breath catches.

An elegant vanity sits in the middle of the room, lit by a glittering chandelier.

Brushes, pins, and rouge are organized in little golden containers in front of the mirror.

A rich red rug sprawls on the floor, leading to a walk-in closet at the far end, stuffed with lace and silk.

“Now, you sit here.” Deirdre pushes me into the velvet-cushioned chair. Air exhales from the pillow as I sit. “Hair up? Down?” Her fingers lift and play with my hair, and a tingle crosses my scalp. “Half and half?”

Then she attacks my head with a hundred hairpins, transforming my unruly curls into an updo fit for a queen. As she works, I grip the chair and clench my teeth.

My handmaid back home, Elodie, always had soft fingers. Deirdre uses the brutal force of a Frost mermaid, efficiently pulling my hair into position within ten minutes flat.

A fucking ball. This is the king’s idea of fun. Better than sex, he assured me. Clearly, I’ve fallen for an idiot.

But at least I’m out of that room.

With a slow inhale, I push the anger away for now. Tonight could be fun, if I let it. Maybe I’ll make new friends with the other ladies. Or dance with so many males, Aethan will boil over and scream like a kettle. That’d be fun to watch.

I’ll keep my expectations low and relish whatever comes my way. This room is gorgeous, and I can enjoy a little pampering for a change. Right?

Finally, Deirdre releases my head and steps back to survey the final product. She catches my eye in the mirror and smiles. “You look lovely, my dear.”

“You think so?” Softness fills my reflection.

My dark eyes are bright, skin flushed, cheekbones full and round.

Candlelight kisses my complexion, giving me an ethereal glow.

I look happy. Pretty. Adorned with a diamond-studded comb, my coffee-colored hair collects in a loose top bun, with a few ringlets left to frame my face.

Pink gloss coats my lips, moving to form my answering smile.

Deirdre squeezes my shoulders. “I know so. Simply stunning.”

“Thank you.” I touch the ringlets, careful not to disturb the curls. “Will there be many people there, did he say? The last time I attended a ball didn’t…”

I stare at the handle of a gilded hairbrush.

Winona loves throwing balls, the more lavish the better.

Like the one she threw for me on the news of my invitation to the Coral Kingdom.

I threw a fit and drowned myself in booze in protest of her pageantry.

All to escape a land-bound existence tied to the whims of a foreign king. Yet here I am.

“Let’s just say my sister wasn’t happy with me,” I finish. Can Deirdre see the guilt in my eyes?

She laughs. “It was a last-minute plan for me to pull together. I’m afraid it’s only the two of you tonight.”

“Oh.” My shoulders drop in relief. “How unusual.”

“The king is anything but usual, Your Highness.” Her eyes twinkle for a moment before growing dim. “When he lost his mother, he struggled to find his joy again. It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen that male smile, love.” She takes my hand. “Thank you.”

I drop my gaze from the mirror as a knot forms in my throat.

She squeezes my hand and pulls me from the chair. “Would you like to pick out your dress? I’m afraid there wasn’t time to have one made for you, but I’m sure we can find you something suitable in here.”

The closet is stuffed to the gills with ball gowns.

Lace, silk, and furs crowd the hangers, abundant frills spilling onto the floor.

Most of the dresses are cool-toned. Shades of blues and greens and grays.

I trail my fingers along the fabric and inhale their soft scent. A tinge of peppermint hangs in the air.

“What was he like?” I blurt, tugging at a lacey green ribbon. “Before.”

“His Majesty was an inquisitive guppy. I wouldn’t say he was cheerful—he’s always had a hard shell for an exterior, I’m afraid—but he was adventurous. A risk-taker. He loved to explore and have fun. Test the boundaries. There was many a time he pushed me to my limits.”

She lifts a hem, rubs it between her fingers, and sighs wistfully.

I smile. “Sounds like me.”

“You?”

“Deirdre, I’m a high-class scoundrel, where I come from.”

The housekeeper chuckles. “You make a good pair, then.”

I pause, grasping a hanger for support as a wave of irritation catches me off guard. “He’ll never let me leave. And as long as that’s true, we are not equals. There is no pair .”

She frowns and shakes her head, but Deirdre can’t deny it out loud. “His heart’s in the right place. Even if his actions haven’t caught up. Give him time to surprise you.”

I glance at the dress in my hands, a slim silk number in light, glittery blue. Like the color of the sky before snowfall—or the color of Aethan’s eyes. My heart lifts, and I pull it off the rack.

“Oh my,” Deirdre gasps. She brings her hand to her mouth, eyes glistening with emotion. “That’s one of my favorites.”

“I think it’ll work,” I say, holding it up to check the size. It’s a little long.

“I can hem it, don’t you worry. Now let’s get you dressed. We don’t want to keep him waiting.”

Deirdre holds it out for me. I step into the skirt and slip my arms through the straps. The silky fabric glides over my curves easily, lifting my breasts and flaring away at the knees. Glittery thread embroiders the bodice, adding a subtle silver sparkle.

“It’s perfect,” I gasp. I spin, watching the skirt lift and twist around my legs. Glitter sheds from the garment, falling to the floor like snow. “Wow.”

Deirdre claps. “Oh, that’s just darling on you. And a perfect fit, too. I wasn’t sure.”

“Whose dress is it? Yours?”

“Oh goddess, no. I’m much too…” She gestures to her large bosom and laughs.

But the laugh is flat, and her smile falls a little at the corners.

“You’re in the queen’s quarters, love. That dress was Isolde’s.

She wore it to the midnight dance on Yuletide, when we were young.

Before Aethan came along. Oh, she was so beautiful that night.

You should’ve seen her, love.” Deirdre’s eyes wax wistful, and she chews her bottom lip.

I smooth my hands over my belly, relishing the softness of the silk. “She had excellent taste.”

“Yes, well.” Her eyes tighten. “I’m glad the dress will get another turn about the dance floor. It’s been too long, and I can’t bear to clear them out.”

“I’m honored.” I want to ask more, to learn about his mother.

I’ve only gleaned so much from the history books Perrin brought me.

She was tall and pale and, like Aethan, the perfect picture of a Frost siren.

Reclusive and prone to mood swings. But that’s all I could gather.

It’s hard to imagine a cold female like that would dance in a gown like this, much less have a closet full of them.

Deirdre fishes a needle and thread from her apron pocket. “Now, this won’t take too long. A quick hem so you aren’t tripping over yourself.” She stoops low and works with the fabric, stitching a few holds around the hem. When she finishes, she clears her throat softly. “Shall we?”

We exit the dressing room, and Perrin’s jaw drops. Blush creeps over his freckled cheeks. “Wow.”

“Is it too much?” I ask, running my hands over my hips. The fabric is tight. Maybe a little too tight. I should’ve picked a more voluminous dress from the queen’s closet, one that hides my curves.

Perrin shakes his head furiously. “No, you look...” He surveys my appearance at a different angle, then wrinkles his nose. “You look like an icicle.”

The pressure in my chest eases. I hike the skirt and shake glitter over his toes. “That was the idea.”

“I like it. Sparkly. Make sure to get it in His Majesty’s hair.” He winks.

“He’ll be brushing it out for days,” I say.

“I’ll walk with you when you’re ready.” Deirdre touches my elbow lightly.

A fresh wave of nerves hits me, and I take a deep breath. “Ready.”

As we descend the stairwell into the parlor, I trail my fingers along the darkwood banister, the train of my dress slithering behind me.

My heart races faster with each step I take. Anticipation twists my stomach into a knot. It’d be a complete waste to look this good and not dance at the ball. How bad could it be?

Deirdre hums happily beside me. “You look beautiful,” she assures me. “He’ll be pleased to see you.”

Light spills beneath the threshold of the throne room doors. Two guards are posted there, standing erect in their uniforms. Their eyes slide over me, then dart away.

“The king doesn’t think of me in that way,” I mutter.

Deirdre pauses, her hand resting on the door handle. She glances at me with a frown. “Is that what you really think? You mean more to him than you realize, Nahla. And if this dress doesn’t wring a confession out of him tonight, then you can dunk me in the Rime. Now. In you go.”

My knees wobble beneath me, suddenly unstable. Shit.

The door opens, revealing a transformed throne room.

It glows with candlelight, illuminating a once characteristically dim space.

From the center beam hangs a new chandelier with a thousand glittering ice crystals.

Flower petals dust the floor. In the corner, a lone violinist positions at the ready.

And in the center of the room stands the devilish Frost King, dressed in a white tuxedo and grinning from ear to ear.