Chapter 13 Amaryllis
AMARYLLIS
Istay close to Meera as she leads me up the carpeted stairs and down a small corridor.
Meeting the rest of the heist crew was only slightly less terrifying than I imagined.
They were all the type of ruffians that Father had spent most of my childhood warning me about – a mixture of around ten men and women, each one rougher, more boisterous, and louder than the last.
Still, despite their ragged appearances, I appreciated the effort they each made to bow as they introduced themselves to me, and a few had the manners to put their weapons away before shaking my hand.
It really wasn’t so bad. At least I’m still alive.
“This way, sweet cheeks,” Meera grins under the warm light of the hallway. She guides me towards a closed door. Just as my nerves are starting to settle, she twists a key into the lock and ushers me inside.
The room is not at all how I expected it to look.
Thick carpets cover the floors while tapestries hang from the walls.
In the far corner, there’s a small fireplace, the warm glow of the fire lighting up a nearby vanity covered in oils and cosmetics.
Across from the vanity is a large bed, decorated with throws and furs.
It’s clearly a bedroom. And judging by the messy clothes on the floor it’s clearly a used bedroom. My heart stutters as I wonder if it’s Kasimir’s. But then I taste something bitter in my mouth when I remember that Meera has a key.
Maybe he gave it to her just for tonight, or maybe this is actually her bedroom, and I’m just being ridiculous. Wrinkling my nose, I suck in a sharp breath. It doesn’t matter whose bedroom it is or who shares beds with whom.
I’m here to pay back the Scorpion.
That’s all.
“Get comfortable, because we might be in here a while.” Meera’s voice tears me from my thoughts.
Kicking off her boots, she plops into an armchair by the fireplace.
“The boss said he wants me to make you look pretty for your show tonight. But it’s been years since these dainty hands have worked with anything other than blades.
” After wriggling her calloused fingers, she points towards the cosmetics on the vanity station.
“I stole all that from the inner city today.”
Suddenly, the room feels colder than winter.
“Stole?” I gasp.
“Don’t look so freaked out! It’s all new, don’t worry. I wouldn’t steal any used shit,” she laughs. “I found you a dress too. Stole it from the opera house.”
My breath catches.
The opera house…
I’ve never been. It’s so far outside the palace grounds, and of course Father never lets us go further than our dance circle. But I’ve always dreamt of seeing it, ever since the evening of my fifth birthday – when Father had dancers from the opera house visit the palace.
I was so young, but I still remember almost every tiny, magical detail of my birthday show. Like the way the dancers moved their bodies so fluidly to the music, and how their gowns shimmered under the lights as if coated in stardust.
I was so enchanted by their performance that I begged my father for dance lessons the moment the dancers had left. Of course he agreed – not that he could ever say no to little me.
“Where is the dress?” I ask breathlessly.
“Hanging in the wardrobe,” Meera replies, jerking her chin towards it.
Nerves rock my stomach. I shouldn’t want to wear it. It’s stolen. But maybe I can just have one small look, and perhaps touch the fabric. Just once.
Hurrying across the room, I swing open the doors of the wardrobe.
Great Stars above.
Hanging from the rail, on an ugly wire hanger far too unworthy for the delicate straps it supports, is the most beautiful dance gown I’ve ever seen.
The bodice is pure white, decorated with tiny silver crystals that look like stars, while little white feathers run along the low neckline.
And the skirt… The skirt is even more breathtaking.
Near the top, the soft tulle blends into the pure white bodice, while by the hem the tulle fades to a pale, glittering pink.
It’s gorgeous.
Tears well up in my eyes. I can’t help but run my fingers down the soft tulle. I just know if Blossom and Camellia were here they’d be in tears with me.
“Well, what do you think? Will it fit?” Meera shouts from her chair. “Put it on now so we can chop off some of the skirt if it’s too long. I’ve got my daggers here with me.”
I almost choke. “What?” The only person ever using a dagger around this dress will be me – to fend off any crazed assassins who see no issue with ‘chopping off some of the skirt’.
“Well? What’s wrong with it?” she grumbles, heaving herself out of the armchair.
“Nothing’s wrong with it!” I yell. “It’s perfect as it is. No need for any cutting!”
With a scowl, Meera plops back into her seat. “Hurry up and put it on, then. We don’t have long till the boss gets back, and we haven’t even made a dent in this make-up yet.”
Swallowing, I turn back to the dress. It really is beautiful. And even if it was stolen, it would be a shame to not wear it. Especially since I can’t imagine Meera will ever return it to the opera house…
That’s it. My decision has been made. I shall wear it for my dance and then take it back to the palace with me. Meera can consider it as stolen goods seized by the crown.
“Look away while I get dressed, please,” I request, biting down a smile as I pluck the dainty sleeves off the hangar.
Meera sneers. “Of course, Your Highness.” But thankfully, she turns away to watch the crackling fireplace.