Chapter 23
Serafina
“Hold still,” Ishla demands as she tugs and pulls at my hair, weaving my long, dark strands into an intricate braid I wouldn’t dare try to replicate. Her fingers move with practiced precision, like she’s done this countless times before, and I wonder if, like me, Ishla had sisters.
“Is it almost done?” I ask, once again resisting the urge to lift my gaze toward the mirror.
She chuckles. “Patience, Serafina. You’re going to love it.” She continues to work my hair exactly how she wants it, and after a particularly aggressive tug, she stops.
“There,” she says, her voice awestricken. “It’s perfect.”
She takes a step back, and for a moment, I can’t bring myself to move. I keep my eyes lowered, afraid of what I might see.
Finally, I lift my head.
The sight steals my breath, and I gasp.
My hand rises to my cheek, needing to feel my skin to confirm that the girl in the mirror is truly me.
“I look—”
“Beautiful? Breathtaking? Like a gods-damned princess?” Ishla offers, crossing her arms with a smug smile, clearly pleased with her handiwork.
“Not like myself,” I say in return because it’s true. I’ve never worn makeup before.
The soft hues she’s chosen highlight my features in ways I never imagined possible. Subtle lines accentuate my eyes, making my dark irises seem somehow vibrant. My lashes appear longer, and my lips, now softly tinted, look fuller.
But it’s my hair that truly leaves me speechless. The braid is a masterpiece, and Ishla has outdone herself. Each side of my head matches the other, one thick braid with numerous smaller ones all meeting at the back and woven together, creating one long piece she’s thrown over my shoulder.
“You are stunning.” Nyxa’s words slip into my mind. When I finally process her comment, my jaw drops.
“You can see me?” I continue to study my reflection, and then I remember what Jax had once said when talking about Ajja. Oftentimes, I prefer viewing the world through his eyes.
I didn’t realize he meant it literally.
“I can.”
“Can I do the same? See through your eyes?”
“You could.” Her voice trails off. “A lesson for another day. You have a busy night ahead of you.”
I smile at her words.
Tonight is the ball.
Tonight I’ll dance, drink, eat, and breathe in air that isn’t stagnant and confined by these four walls.
But it’s also the night the Elite celebrate the start of the third trials and knowing that will make it far more difficult to enjoy.
“Enjoy it anyway,” Nyxa urges. “For there is nothing you can do.”
I know she’s right, but the thought still churns my stomach.
I try to force the feeling away. For one night, I can forget. For one night, I can pretend our world is not dying. For one night, I can allow myself to live.
“Where the hell is Theo? He was supposed to drop off your dress hours ago.” Isha’s foot taps repeatedly against the floor.
I let out a soft laugh, reaching up to run my fingers along the braid she crafted.
“Ishla,” I say. “Thank you.”
She turns to me, and a small smile graces her lips. “Of course. You truly do look beautiful. Even more so if Theo would do as promised and arrive with your gown. That fool. I never should have trusted him with such an important task.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “It sounds like you know him well.”
“Too well.” She rolls her eyes. “He used to spend a lot of time down in the servants’ quarters.”
Understanding crashes into me like a wave. The girl Theo loves, she was a servant, which means…
“Did you know her? The girl they sent away?”
Ishla’s smile falters, and her gaze drops to the floor.
“I did,” she finally says, her words laced with an ache I can almost feel.
“Tell me about her,” I say, turning back to the mirror, wanting to know more about the woman who stole the heart of Theo Bray—the most charming and self-assured man in the entire kingdom.
Ishla hesitates, moving to a pile of clothes left discarded on the ground. She picks up a tunic, folding it with meticulous care before placing it on the bed.
I open my mouth to tell her not to bother, just as I have countless times before, but I already know how she’ll respond. It calms me, Serafina. Please, just allow me to do my job.
So I say nothing and watch as she smooths the fabric with steady hands.
“She was a force to be reckoned with,” Ishla says, her voice tinged with both admiration and sorrow.
“Beautiful, strong, but also so incredibly smart. Too smart, really. And I tried to warn her. Tried to tell her that…” Her voice fades, and she freezes, as if she’s said too much, but in my mind, she’s barely said anything at all.
Her eyes widen, and her fingers still.
“Tell her what?” I ask when I’m sure she won’t say anymore.
“It doesn’t matter.” She sniffles softly, wiping at her nose. “At least, not anymore.”
I frown. “Ishla, what happened?”
Her lips tighten into a thin line, and her shoulders stiffen. Whatever happened to that girl, it’s clear the memory haunts her. And maybe, just maybe, her being sent to Bragunda wasn’t entirely due to her relationship with Theo, like I’d originally thought.
“Like I said, it does not matter,” Ishla murmurs.
But the way her eyes glisten as she turns away tells me otherwise.
She moves to the door. “I’m going to track him down. At this point, the ball has already begun.”
She pulls the door open, and just as she does, Theo appears in the threshold with an infuriatingly charming smile plastered across his face. He’s wearing a black suit, one that makes him look impossibly more handsome.
“Ladies,” he greets, dipping his head in a mock bow. “So lovely to see you both.”
Ishla smacks him on the arm. “You were supposed to be here hours ago.”
He chuckles, unfazed by her annoyance. “My apologies. I was held up. But I do come bearing a gift.” He holds up the wide white box in his hands.
“That better be her dress; otherwise, my next hit will be aimed somewhere else.” Her eyes move to the spot between his legs, and his smile fades.
“Easy now, Ishla, you know I live to please.”
He carefully lifts the lid of the box, revealing the most exquisite gown I have ever seen.
A deep red that seems to shift as if alive.
The fabric gleams like molten lava under the soft light, cascading in layers that swirl like fire itself.
Gold threads weave through the tight bodice in intricate patterns, shimmering like embers as he pulls the dress from the box.
The neckline dips slightly before swooping up to meet the delicate sleeves that will just barely cover my shoulders.
It’s utterly mesmerizing.
“This…” My brain fails to form proper words as I reach out to touch the fabric.
Theo flashes a proud smile. “He was hoping you’d like it. I’ll wait for you in the hall, Little Flame.”
And with that, he slips out, leaving Ishla and me alone.
She turns to me, her hands already reaching for the gown.
“You ready?” she asks, her earlier irritation gone, replaced by an excitement that makes me smile.
I nod, stepping out of my current attire as Ishla holds up the dress.
“Arms up,” she instructs, guiding it over my head slowly, making sure to not touch my hair. The fabric is a bit loose at first, but then she pulls the strings on the back, fitting the gown to my body like it was made just for me. It hugs my curves, flaring out at the waist in an elegant sweep.
I move to the mirror, and for a moment, I’m stunned. The fiery red fabric against my skin makes me look like a living, breathing flame.
“It couldn’t be more perfect,” Ishla utters behind me, reaching to hand me a mask to finish the look.
It matches the gown, the edges lined with tiny crimson stones that mirror the ruby of my necklace. I secure the mask around my head.
“Now, go have some fun for the both of us.” She holds her hands together over her heart, and a tinge of sadness stabs at me. It’s not fair that I get to attend the ball and Ishla does not.
“I wish you were coming with me,” I tell her, grabbing her hand and squeezing her fingers.
“Go on,” she urges. “You’ve already missed nearly half the fun.”
Following her instructions, I step out of the room. Theo is leaning against the wall. His eyes widen as he takes me in, his playful smirk momentarily disappearing before he recovers.
“Well,” he says, his voice low, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say a princess from one of the far away kingdoms was gracing us with her presence this evening.”
I try to keep a straight face, but a small smile forms. “Don’t start, Theo.”
He offers me his arm. “Shall we?”
Sliding my hand into the crook of his elbow, I nod. “Let’s go.”
As we walk down the corridor, the sound of the festivities grows louder and louder, and my heart begins to race.
“Relax, Little Flame, you have nothing to fear,” Theo says, his tone light but also laced with what sounds like genuine concern. “With that dress and that mask, no one will dare assume you’re from one of the villages. The thought won’t even cross their minds.”
“I’m not afraid,” I tell him, though I’m not entirely certain that’s true. My fingers tighten around his arm. “I’m intrigued.”
And I am.
Never in my life did I imagine myself attending such an extravagant event. Mainly because never in my life did I believe such events occurred.
Not anymore.
But when I was younger, my sisters would sometimes turn our tiny living room into a dance floor, forcing our father to twirl each of us in dizzying circles. I can still remember the way Telfi would laugh. Radiant and infectious.
Finally, we reach the banquet hall, and the scene before me has my mouth falling open.
The room somehow looks even more grand than when I saw it last. My eyes find the place I’m certain I had once peered through, the hidden corridor laying just on the other side.