26. New Dress, Who’s Dis?
The girl looking back at me from my dressing table mirror wasn’t quite a stranger, but she was somebody I no longer knew. It wasn’t just the way I looked, polished to an almost fae-like perfection in preparation for Anwir’s ball. It was how I felt.
Excited. Brimming with anticipation at the prospect of a fairytale ball. That in itself wasn’t unusual. I was no stranger to blowing off steam at the end of a long week by donning a slinky dress and hitting the clubs until the early hours, but the Aliza I’d thought I knew would have been wracked with guilt at leaving my parents in agony for a week longer than necessary.
I should have been preparing for my graduation. My robe should have been hung in my bedroom, a thrilling reminder that all my hard work had finally paid off, that my future had arrived at last. Had Mum and Dad cancelled the rental, or had they collected it in the hope that I would show up in the nick of time? Would my friends feel like celebrating when they received their own degrees, or would the occasion be marred by my empty seat? My guts writhed. They would celebrate. They’d cheer for each other, they’d smile, and when it was all over, they’d raise a shot to me before drinking the bar dry. They’d dance and laugh and make lifelong memories. Without me.
My gaze drifted from my reflection to the explosion of glittering golden tulle hung from my wardrobe, and my belly did a little flip. Tonight, I’d make my own memories. Never in a million years had I imagined a chance to wear such a thing. Maybe if I’d ever met someone worth marrying, but even then, I’d have had to marry in a cathedral to pull off such a dress. I could hardly believe the witches had created it in only a week. Somehow, the gown filled me with more fizzing anticipation than a dowdy old graduation robe ever could. What did that make me? Some sort of vain, selfish monster? I could accept that title, just for one night.
What would Anwir think of me in my dress?
I do not care what any man thinks.
Except… I did. I cared, and I hated myself for it. Tonight was an act, my last night in Neath, but I wanted the prince to see me and wish it wasn’t. I wanted him to see what I could look like when I wasn’t covered in blood and dirt and a week’s worth of grease and grime. I wanted him to want me, not the idea of the Human Queen with the power to stoke the flames of uprising in his people. When he saw my fairytale transformation, maybe he’d forget his kingdom long enough to sate the need my nightly, illicit dreams had awoken in me.
Maybe, just maybe, I had a chance.
A pair of witches had spent the past few hours transforming me. After all my baths, my hair had faded into the palest of pastel ombres. It shimmered like an opal in the candlelight. The witch had curled and pinned it into a low knot at the nape of my neck, leaving a few loose coils to frame my face. A diamond tiara, shaped like an explosion of stars, nestled on top.
I’d worried about how I’d look without access to my makeup bag. I was a fan of winged eyeliner and bold, pink lips, and I’d never attended an event without them. But a smothering of magic lotions had given my skin a glassy glow, and with the barest hint of colour applied to my cheeks and lips, and a dusting of kohl around my eyes, I looked naturally radiant. Not as beautiful as the fae, with my too-human face, but a damn sight better than I’d looked since I’d arrived in this awful place, or any day since.
Except, I was finding Neath less awful with every day that passed. It was all too easy to shove the memories of giant spiders and wolves the size of horses to the back of my mind when I was safe behind the witches’ walls. Ever since my flight with Idris, I’d been struck anew with the beauty and magic this place had to offer. I couldn’t make myself believe that this, however brief my stay might be, was my life. I’d have to go the rest of my years pretending none of it had ever happened, so what was the harm in enjoying it while I still could?
Not that Idris had bothered to take me on any more flights to the clouds, or even to glance in my direction since he’d scooped me into his arms and saved me from the clutches of hypothermia. I’d seen him about the place, lurking in a quiet nook, or hidden in the grounds, sketching in his little black book. On those occasions, he didn’t bother to look up, though I thought I might have seen his shoulders stiffen as I drew near. Not that I cared. What could we possibly have to say to each other? I had nothing in common with the haughty prince. I was glad that he was absent most of the time. Probably riding his pretty little horse through the clouds without a care in the world, making the most of his freedom now he was awake.
Who says I want to be?
I hadn’t forgotten his words at the lake. I played them over in my mind whenever I had a moment between party plans and soul-crushing guilt. Poor pampered prince. He was right. It had to be a difficult life, born into immense, unearned privilege, to have the world at his fingertips. Though my tiny mortal mind couldn’t even begin to fathom such torment, I could at least grasp that it must be simply horrific to have everything I desired brought to me on a silver platter. No wonder he preferred being cursed to soaring amongst the clouds.
The witch at my back slid one final diamond pin into my hair and smiled at me in the mirror.
“Done. What do you think, Your Majesty?”
Your Majesty.
I’d been getting called that all week, and it still made me want to snort with laughter. Anwir had spread the story that, after my temper tantrum the night we’d returned to Nairsgarth, I’d decided to stay, to become his fabled Human Queen. We had agreed that our ruse should be complete. Nobody, not even the witches could doubt us. All it would take was one too many glasses of fairy wine, and somebody might say the wrong thing to the wrong person, and our deception would come crashing down. As far as anyone but the prince and I knew, a coronation was all that stood between me and the throne. That, and a psychotic male intent on my death, of course.
I couldn’t be scared of King Maelgwyn tonight. I smiled at my reflection, turning my head to admire my hair, and the stunning diamond starburst hovering above.
“It’s gorgeous. Thank you.”
The witch curtsied, blushing furiously. My heart sank a little. If only Pansy could have been the one to help me get ready. If only her heart hadn’t been broken into thousands of pieces. If only my hands weren’t smeared by the phantom stain of her mother’s blood.
I’d tried to visit Pansy, but my friend was deep in the first days of grief, and she’d turned me away each time. It was only grief, I reminded myself several times a day, only grief that had her refusing my company. She couldn’t possibly blame me for her mother’s death. Could she?
I snatched my hands to my lap, remembering too late the second witch kneeling beside my chair, buffing my fingernails to a shine.
“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” She looked horrified and terrified all at once.
“No. No, I’m fine. I just…” How could I say that, in certain lights, I thought I could still see blood in my cuticles? “I just can’t sit still. I’m too excited.”
Relief washed over her face. “It is almost time to get dressed.”
There it was again, that all-consuming, jittery excitement. I snatched up my as yet untouched crystal flute and took a deep swig of the bubbling, golden liquid within. Fairy wine. It fizzed over my tongue, an explosion of citrus and sweet notes that tickled the back of my nose.
I swallowed, marvelling at how smoothly it went down. “Wow. I thought prosecco was good!”
Polite, if confused, smiles answered me. Of course. They had no idea what prosecco was. They were ignorant of my life. Of my world. Sometimes, I felt like an alien here, but tonight, I was determined to be a happy alien. Anwir’s guests had swarmed to Nairsgarth, mainly from Tir o Gaeaf, the last free kingdom of fae, but others had come from far flung locations, not kingdoms as such, just little clusters of those who’d been lucky enough to escape the three fallen kingdoms. There were witches too, from the other covens dotted about this magical world. And there were other magical beings I was yet to meet. All had come from far and wide to celebrate the princes’ awakening and glimpse their rightful king and the legendary Human Queen. Would there be vampires in attendance? Somehow, I doubted it, though I could all too easily imagine Jacques lurking in the shadows, watching me with too bright eyes.
I took another swig of wine, and my body lightened delightfully. God, I should have eaten more at lunch. There was going to be a fancy buffet this evening, but I had to make a good impression first. I put my flute down with a too loud clink. I’d drink my share after I’d successfully navigated the dancefloor.
Dancing. God, I was going to dance with Anwir. If my luck was in, we’d be doing more than dancing before the night was out. My last night.
I suddenly wished my hairstyle did a better job of hiding my burning ears, but it was too late to start making changes now.
“Right. Let’s get this dress on, shall we?”
At Anwir’s insistence, I was to arrive fashionably late. It would be his grand reveal. I could see the logic and the appeal of being the centre of everyone’s attention, but now that I stood before the closed double doors that led out into the grounds, where the ball was being held, my belly tumbled and flipped at the thought of all those people, strangers, waiting for me.
How could I live up to their expectations? They’d waited millennia for their Human Queen. She’d been woven into legend, into fairytale, but I was just… me.
Muffled music and laughter drifted to me. I hoped everyone had managed to drink at least three glasses of fairy wine by now, so they might overlook my nerves and shivering limbs. Maybe I should have drunk more wine.
What if I tripped on my hem? What if I forgot my dance steps? What if everyone thought I was a hideous frump next to the stunning fae females I’d seen in Tir o Gaeaf? Maybe Anwir would change his mind about the whole thing, leaving me looking like a fool in a ridiculous dress. Now the moment was upon me, I wished I’d gone for something simpler, and foregone the tiara altogether. I was no queen. I was nobody. What right did I have to be here, with all eyes on me?
My legs itched, the impulse to run growing stronger with every second those doors barred my way. It wasn’t too late. I could change my mind.
If I did, Anwir would never win his kingdom back. I wasn’t going to stay, but maybe this one glimpse of me, of hope, would be enough to bolster his people. Maybe he could carry the lie on without me, after tonight. After this one, small thing.
I took a deep breath, stilling my nerves. I could do this. I’d done worse. This was easy. All I had to do was walk to Anwir, smile and dance.
Dance with Anwir.
The thought made me dizzier than any prosecco ever had. God, those dreams had really gotten under my skin.
Beyond the doors, some sort of trumpet sounded, and the music and laughter died. A voice rang out, and I knew they were announcing me, but I couldn’t hear the words over the blood rushing in my ears. I rolled my shoulders back and pasted a smile on my face, not a moment too soon.
The doors swung open.
At the sight awaiting me, I forgot my nerves. The grounds, pretty enough before, had been transformed. I couldn’t see far beyond the sea of eager faces turned in my direction, but I glimpsed towering flower arrangements, ice sculptures, and intricately carved topiary trees. Fairies drifted overhead, a rainbow of glowing colours. Fairy lights. They reminded me of Christmas. Had humans retained some memory of the magical world we’d once been a part of? How else could we have named our Christmas decorations so accurately?
But there was no time to admire any of it.
The music started up again, accompanied by a roar of applause as I took my first uncertain step over the threshold. I was alone. Completely alone as I made my way down the stone steps. The crowd parted, clearing a path for me, and there, at the far end, was Anwir.
My fixed smile became real.
He looked like a dream. Like something from a fairytale. He wore a perfectly fitted jacket of peridot green, an exact match for his eyes, embroidered with an elaborate pattern of golden thread running down his front, either side of his buttons. His close-fitting trousers disappeared into polished, knee-high boots that gleamed in the fairy light almost as much as his sleek, black hair, tied in a low ponytail.
But his expression was what really caught my attention. The slightly stunned, wide-eyed way he drank in my approach. My smile grew as I basked in his evident admiration, glowing beneath his gaze. This was fake. He had to look at me like that if he wanted all these people to believe they stood a chance against the sorcerer king. I was their salvation. Little did they know, I would be gone come morning, and Anwir was merely acting, the way I was sure he’d had to do every day of his princely life.
Still, fake or not, I couldn’t help but return his smile. I couldn’t help but blush as I stopped before him and he took my hand in his, bending low to kiss it, exactly as he had a week ago in the privacy of my room. Just as they had that night, his lips lingered, heating my blood in anticipation of where else they might touch.
“To King Anwir, and his bright young queen!”
The ball erupted into cheers, whoops and the occasional explosion of flame or light. Petals materialised from thin air, flurrying and twirling around us. I laughed in delight at the sight of such flamboyant outbursts of magic. Anwir turned to me, evidently struggling to contain his smile.
He twirled a lock of pastel hair around his finger. “Exceedingly bright.”
Something in his tone had my guts twisting. “You don’t like it?”
“It is… strange.” His gaze flickered over my hair, the smile melting away. “Pretty, in its own way, but I have never seen anything so… I’m just not sure how suitable it is for a queen.”
My steaming blood cooled, becoming glacial. All my hopeful ideas of where the night might lead cracked and shattered to icy dust. It was a good thing I had no intention of becoming anyone’s queen, let alone his. Who did he think he was, to deem any part of me unsuitable? I’d survived hideous ordeals and overcome impossible odds to save him. All he’d done was get himself cursed, and then run away at every whisper of trouble. Besides, I thought my hair would look amazing with a crown, if I ever gave it the chance. Not that I would. “Maybe, but I’m not like all those other queens, am I?”
“No.” He gave me an indulgent smile, nudging his nose against mine as though he’d missed my venomous tone. A show, that was all it was. A performance for his people. “You are most definitely not like them.”
A few seconds ago, my stupid heart might have stuttered as I stared up into those peridot eyes, but now its pace quickened only with irritation.
“It’s time,” he whispered, his minty breath filling my nose.
“For what?”
A low chuckle rumbled through him. “Have I dazzled you? It is time for the opening dance.”
Oh. That.
I dropped his gaze gladly, looking around at the watching crowd. They smiled back, faces alive with happiness. Hope. The floor had cleared expectantly, leaving Anwir and I alone in a vast, empty circle, and I saw that the grass had been hidden beneath a now petal-strewn marble slab. Where it had come from and how it had gotten here was beyond my imagining. Smiling, expectant faces stared back at me; the witches and fae and other strange creatures I didn’t recognise had crowded around the two of us. Music drifted on the simmering air.
Anwir squeezed my hand. It was all I could do not to snatch it from his grasp. “There’s nothing to worry about if you follow my lead. I’ve done this thousands of times. I’ll guide you.”
I turned back to the prince. He’d danced with thousands of women, had he? Or maybe just one woman thousands of times. Was that why he thought he was entitled to an opinion on my appearance? Did he think I’d fall over myself to compete with them? Just because he was handsome, just because he’d been kind? Or because he was a prince? Whatever the reason, my foolish fantasies were as dead as my world believed me to be.
Smiling slightly, he laid his hand on my waist. I stiffened, my spine going rigid. A poor start to any dance. I needed to be poised yet flexible. Liquid and solid at the same time. I forced my lungs to draw a deep, slow breath.
At the lightest pressure from his hand, we began to sway in time to the music, on the spot at first, but then he steered me into the steps, revolving us around one another. His eyes bore into mine, looking for all the world as though he was besotted with me. He was quite the actor, I’d give him that. Well, I could act too. Putting on a brave face was part of my job. I donned my mask, letting a wide smile spread across my face.
Anwir, with his free hand, lifted my arm, guiding me into a spin. My feet moved effortlessly as I turned, the stunning dress swishing around my legs as I extended my free hand, fingers poised, and stepped back into his hold.
I noted with pleasure the faint surprise on his face.
“What?” I whispered, smirking. “You think mortal girls can’t dance?”
I was picking up the rhythm now, starting to anticipate the swell and fall of the music, and the movement that went with it. Maybe I didn’t know the steps as well as I’d like, but my instincts merged with Anwir’s guidance, creating something passable, maybe even pretty.
Soon, I lost myself, my annoyance ebbing with the pulse of the music. My body responded to Anwir’s lead and the music’s guidance. Whatever imperfections lingered in my steps were surely masked by the swell of my skirt. We twirled around the dancefloor, my dress swishing magnificently, past a blur of faces almost as happy as my own.
All too soon, the music faded out, and Anwir steered me to a halt, bowing low. I curtsied on numb legs, my chest rising and falling breathlessly. Around us, the music began again and Anwir’s guests filled the floor around us, beginning the next dance.
The prince, however, stepped closer to me.
“That was… not terrible,” he said.
God, what had I ever seen in him? I kept my waspish tones to a minimum as I said, “Wow, you’d better stop there, or the praise will go to my head.”
He grinned. “I didn’t know you could dance.”
“You never asked. I used to be a figure skater, you know, on ice? It’s not so different to dancing, really.”
“Used to be?”
My fake smile became real but sad, accompanied by the tug of regret deep in my belly. My skating days were long gone, but I still missed them fiercely. Still couldn’t so much as look at a skin of ice forming on a puddle without suffering a stab of longing. “Injury. Broke my ankle when I was seventeen. I think my parents might have been secretly relieved. I was obsessed, and it was so expensive, but it was my only hobby, and they wanted to give me the best life they could. Even if they couldn’t afford it. But that fall was the end of my dream.”
“You could have a new dream,” he reminded me. “A better one.”
While becoming a queen was undoubtedly a more ambitious dream than being a professional figure skater, better wasn’t the word I would have chosen. The promise of untold riches, of fabulous dresses and diamonds the size of eggs, of eternal life, were undoubtedly tempting, and up until a few minutes ago, Anwir had been too. Not enough for me to consider marrying him, but certainly enough that I would have made a fool of myself. At least I could leave in the morning without regrets. Speaking of which, I wasn’t going to let an opinionated prince spoil my night. I would likely never have the chance to dance at a ball again, and I intended to make the most of it. Starting right now, with someone, anyone, else.
“I’m thirsty,” I lied, trying to sidestep Anwir.
His hand closed around mine, firm and unyielding, halting me in my tracks.
“I have a better idea.” With a sharp tug that sent a twinge of discomfort up my arm, he pulled me close again. “How about another dance?”