Page 23 of Spark of Sorcery

“Can we take it this means Beaufort Lincoln is forgiven?” Fly crows.

I give him the finger. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Urgh,” Fly says, throwing himself down on the mattress. “You’re the only one getting some and yet you won’t share any of the delicious details with us.” He lifts his head and peers at me. “Please say you did it in his car.”

“We did not do it in his car,” Fly drops his head backdown on the bed and groans, “but we did do some stuff,” I say to pacify him. “Although, you don’t have to beg for scraps of information about my love life. You could have one of your own.”

“Right,” he says flatly.

“You could,” Clare says. “You’re really very handsome.”

“In a way,” I add and Fly returns the finger.

“Plus you’re stylish.”

“Talking of which,” he says, rolling up onto his feet with sudden excitement. “Come and take a look at what your old godmother has for you …” He leads me towards Clare’s closet and opens the door. Hanging on the other side is a pale silver dress with a beaded corset and light floaty skirt. The straps are mere pieces of string but Fly has draped a matching bolero over the hanger.

For a full minute I stand there gobsmacked. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so pretty in real life before.

“Where did you get this from?” I ask, running my hand down the delicate gauze material.

“Not everyone in my family despises and detests me,” Fly says, lifting the dress down from where it’s hanging and feeding the jacket and the delicate shoulder straps off the hanger. “I have one member of my family who actually likes me – my sister-in-law. Don’t get me wrong, she only likes me because I make her pretty dresses when she asks me to, but it means she’s occasionally willing to do things in return for me. Like sending me this dress so you can borrow it for the ball tomorrow.”

I shake my head and take a step away.

“Oh no,” he says, wagging his finger at my face, “don’t you start all that stupid nonsense. No,” he holds his hand to his chest and adopts a high-pitched voice, “I couldn’t possibly, it’s too beautiful, I’m not worthy.”

“I do not sound like that!”

“Try it on,” he thrusts it towards me, “I need time to make any adjustments.”

“Everyone will stare at me in a dress like this,” I protest.

“I gather that’s the idea,” Clare says.

I turn to my other friend. “Give it to Clare. It would suit her skin tone better.”

“Clare already has a dress,” Fly says.

“And I am not thrall to the Princes. You need to look the part.”

“Exactly,” I say, “if I turn up in a dress like this on the arm of Beaufort Lincoln–”

“So he is taking you then?” Fly says, glancing towards Clare with excitement.

“–everyone will hate me more than they already do. They’ll think I’ve grown too big-headed, too conceited.”

“Only because they’ll be dying of intense jealousy because you’ll look stunning and they’ll be in no doubt why you have captured the attention of the academy’s three hottest dudes.”

“I’m not exactly sure–”

“I made this myself, Cupcake,” he says, “if you don’t wear it, I will be severely insulted, heart broken and dejected, and may never be able to talk to you again.”

“Jeez,” I say, blowing out my cheeks, “okay.”

Despite Fly’s complaints that we are all good enough friends to see each other in our underwear now, I usher the both of them out of the room and slip on the fragile dress.

My skin still tingles from Beaufort’s touch and the way he had me falling apart on his lap, and although I know I’m asking for trouble, that I’m falling into the trap I said I would avoid the most, I can’t help but turn and stare atmyself in the mirror, wondering what he’d make of me in this dress.