Chapter 12 #2
Jenna dove into a cascade of blue and green fabrics, muttering to herself until she emerged, triumphant, holding two gowns aloft.
The first was a tight shift of thin satin and transparent mousseline, slit high at the side and scandalously low at the neckline, far too daring for someone accustomed to plain mage robes.
The second was a velvet gown with twin slits along the thighs and loose sleeves of white mousseline that rejoined at the wrists. That one called to me. I didn’t need to say it; Jenna already knew.
She led me to the farthest changing booth, a square enclosure of three wooden walls and a colorful curtain, a large mirror leaning against the frame. She drew the curtain closed behind me and said in our tongue that she’d be nearby if I needed help.
Lo’s voice came through the curtain. “I’ll dash to the main square, see if Selena’s finished dazzling the populace. You, my darling, stay right there. And when you’re done trying it on, don’t you dare take it off before I return. I want the grand reveal!”
And then his footsteps faded into the din of the market.
I studied myself in the mirror. I’d always considered myself average in terms of beauty, nothing worth a second glance, never the kind to stand out. That was why I favored dark, shapeless robes, clothes that erased me from sight. Unnoticeable. Safe.
But what Jenna had said had given me an extra flicker of confidence, just enough to make me pick that gown. Perhaps I wasn’t meant to disappear. Perhaps tonight, I would allow myself to be seen.
I undressed and slid the gown over my skin, the fabric cool, then warm as it settled.
I loosened the thread in my hair and released the dark mane of curls that always tried to escape me.
I fastened the mousseline sleeves at my wrists, the white fabric falling like pale half moons from my arms. Then I looked again.
What I saw in the mirror made my lips part.
That gown had been made for me.
It hugged my hips perfectly, drew in my waist, and even the cleavage, daring by my standards, seemed to flatter rather than expose. The sleeves gave it that magical look Jenna had promised. I probably stood there for more than a minute, admiring myself.
When I began playing with my hair, trying to decide how to wear it, I heard footsteps return. Lo, surely.
I opened the curtain, eager to show him his creation.
“Should I wear my hair loose or like—”
I froze, arms raised, fingers caught mid-motion in my hair.
It wasn’t Lo. And it wasn’t Jenna either.
It was Kael.
My thoughts slammed back into me. I stepped away, instinctively reaching for the curtain, but before I could move, he was already inside the booth with me, and suddenly the air wasn’t enough.
We were only a breath apart.
I wanted to scream. But the sound caught in my throat.
Kael towered over me, his eyes dark, his lips parted. The fact that I hadn’t seen him in days only made me more captivated by his beauty.
“Evie…” he growled, as if realizing only now whose presence he’d invaded.
“You’re in my booth,” I managed, my voice sounding like someone else’s, like I was narrating my own tale.
His eyes poured into me. I stepped back and crossed my arms, suddenly aware of how much skin the gown revealed.
He closed the distance between us anyway.
Slowly, his hand rose and touched my shoulder.
A shock went through me, every nerve awake, every hair on end.
He brushed back a lock of my hair, exposing bare skin beneath and my pulse point.
The touch sent me places I dared not go.
My heartbeat threatened to tear through my skin.
I was frozen. I could only breathe.
He slowly withdrew his hand. His fingers trembled. His eyes traveled over me once, twice. Not like Jenna’s measuring glance, but with something dangerous.
He twitched almost imperceptibly. Maybe it was that same hatred, that disgust.
But no, not this time.
This time it was something I didn't understand.
Need.
No, it couldn't be. It was just Kael despising what he saw. It couldn't be him wanting me; that was absurd. Normally, that look in his eyes would have made me want to hide. But not today. Not while I wore this magnificent battledress.
He could go to the nine hells with his hatred and disgust for me.
“Is there a problem, Magister?” I asked, my hand finding my hip and settling there.
It seemed to snap him back to himself. “Is that what you’ll wear tonight?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “Is there a problem?”
“Loose,” he said simply. Or rather, breathed.
“What?”
“Your hair,” he murmured. “Wear it loose.”
I stood there, lips parted, as he turned away. He was halfway out of the booth, and suddenly I didn’t want him to go at all.
“Will you be there?” The words came out harder than I’d intended, almost pleading.
He glanced over his shoulder. “The Ball is meant to reinvigorate the academy’s spirit,” he said. “In honor of Henrich Eisenberg.”
Nothing I didn’t already know, and yet it sounded like a confession. His tone had changed to something wistful.
“I will be there,” he said at last.
And then he left, just as he’d entered, without another word.
Dean Henrich Eisenberg. He’d been kind to me when I’d joined the academy. I’d admired him, a patient and kind wizard. When he passed, I’d lost not just a superior, but also an ideal. I wondered if Kael had known him, too.
Now, standing there alone, confused to say the least. I suddenly felt ridiculous in that gown.
The feeling didn’t last. Lo returned, eyes wide and full of sparkles. He gasped as if I’d walked straight out of a painting.
I bought the gown for an abominable amount of gold. But I rarely treated myself, and with Court pay, I could afford it.
Now I had the rest of the day to prepare, and to brace myself for the next time I saw Kael Forloren. Which would be tonight.
Gods help me…