Chapter 43
Forty-three
“I’m sorry, but you can’t wear that.” The stylist assigned to assist me stops in her tracks, a garment bag draped over her arm. I barely feel the pulse of power surging from the Astral, another sign of how I’ve acclimated to Astralis.
I stand next to my prized gown, which hangs in my wardrobe. “What do you mean?”
She sets her bag on my bed, unzipping as she says, “The Kosmos has requested this gown to match the evening’s festivities.
” She removes a pale yellow satin sheath dress.
It truly pales compared to mine. I raise an eyebrow in response, considering my choices here.
Are they seriously telling us how we have to dress now?
Realizing this stylist is only the messenger, I exhale through my nose and calm myself. “Thank you for bringing it. I was thinking we'd go for a more dramatic look with tonight’s makeup.”
“Sounds great! Let’s get started.”
An hour later, I’m armed with a smoky eye and red lips. My hair is tamed into large, bouncy waves with crystal starburst pins holding the right side out of my face. I thank the stylist, waiting for her to leave as I eye the yellow dress. Fucking Kosmos, I’m not looking forward to this.
Orion collects me, our silence now filling the car. Our nerves are catching up with us. He breaks first. “You look incredible.”
“Thank you; you always clean up nicely.” He does, looking especially dapper in a tailored navy jacket, white-collared shirt, and trousers.
As we exit the hovercraft, stepping outside the Cosmic Hall, I take in the fantastical structure.
Less overwhelmed than I was the last time I was here, I’m able to observe the Hall.
A “hall” minimizes the grandness of this palace.
As if forged from nebulae themselves, the Hall is composed of silver stone and reflective glass, displaying swirling blues and purples.
Spires jut upwards at varying lengths, offset by round domes, likely the glass ceilings within.
Orion dips his head next to my ear. “Can you behave yourself tonight?”
Don’t I always? “It’s time to shine.” I loop my arm through his as we enter through the grand archway and into the massive foyer, feeling surprisingly tranquil. I am the calm before the storm, I tell myself.
The doors open for us, revealing the ballroom beyond. Every participant is donning pale yellow. The women all wear the exact dress that still hangs in my apartment.
Within seconds, Orion’s head whips in my direction.
I smile like a manic woman, crazed by the chaos I have undoubtedly created. I will not be marginalized.
“Oops.”
All eyes are on me as I descend the stairs, a dark star in a sea of soft suns.
Small groups are gathered, holding stemmed glasses and mingling, while the Order sits all high and mighty on the dais.
While some maintain an unbothered expression, Pluto looks flustered.
My smile only widens. “Why are you the only one in black?” Orion seethes through clenched teeth.
“Sorry, Riri, must’ve missed the memo.” I pat his chest as we reach the floor, taking off towards Leo.
I kiss his cheek, and his hand finds my waist. “You, my vindictive vixen,” he ducks his head, his lips caressing the shell of my ear, “will bring me to my knees.”
I hum, leaning into his touch, surveying our surroundings once more. “This was a matter of checks and balances. They were trying to put me in my place, to remind me of my role.”
It’s a slap in the face. A group of sacrificial humans armed in their astrological color, ready and willing to do the Kosmos’ bidding. We are nothing to them. This was a message that we are mere pieces on the playing field. First they control our participation, then what we can wear; what’s next?
“Good thing you are not a pawn to be controlled. I fucking love the way your brain works.” His compliments light me up from the inside. I lean in to kiss him just as low, melodic music plays.
Leo tenses suddenly. “Zellie, just who I was looking for,” Pluto drawls from behind me, “join me for a dance.”