Chapter Thirty #3
It’s a long, slender, dark blue thing with thin straps that doesn’t seem like it’ll cover much of me at all. Oraphia approaches, and holding the hanger of the dress high above her head so the end of the dress doesn’t touch the floor, she reaches out with her other hand.
With a surprising speed, she rips at the towel I clutch at my chest, whipping it away from me, baring me naked. Before I’m able to argue, she pulls the dress from the hanger and forces it over my head.
“Bring your hands up,” she instructs. “Now through here… pull here…”
Strangled by the dress, I do my best to wrangle it down over my head as Oraphia’s hands pull at the material. It takes a second, but finally we manage to get it down and she smooths it over my body.
“When the Sovereign King chose this dress, I wasn’t sure. I thought the dark blue would be too much for your pale complexion. But now, seeing it on you,” she nods in approval, “I can see why he chose it.”
“He chose this?” My brows furrow in mild confusion.
“He did,” she answers, her eyes dancing with her smile.
I open my mouth to ask yet another question as I turn toward the mirror, but it dies on my tongue the second I see my reflection. Like the black dress had been, it’s a form fitting dress featuring a low, sharp neckline. Not nearly as low as the black dress, but low enough to raise my brows.
Turning, my entire back is exposed, the length of the Malbolge runes down my spine easily visible on my skin. Even with my hair down, only half of it would be hidden.
A high slit in the left side of the dress exposes my thigh when I move, pale against the dark blue. A sheer run of fabric flows from the rope-thin shoulder straps, creating a billowing epaulet-like cape that shifts and glitters with the tiniest movements.
The dark blue, the glittering silver… it reminds me of the night sky.
I pause, freezing as I recall the night I’d arrived, staring up at the night sky for the first time beyond the veil. The universe had been this color blue and it had enraptured me. The coincidence pulls at my heart in a way I’m not ready to fully acknowledge.
Fighting against the feeling leaves my chest tight and my breathing shallow. I look away from the mirror. I’d been introduced to the world of Celesta’s devotees that night. Tonight is an introduction of a different kind.
The kind I’d tried to avoid when I chose not to attend the gala.
Tonight is more than a dinner, this is Ryc introducing me to his world as Sovereign King.
Dumbfounded by the thought, I don’t resist when Oraphia leads me by the elbow to the chair she set in front of the mirror.
She begins to work on my hair once again, sweeping and twisting it to the side.
I’ve always worn my hair down, parted along the center, save for the few times I’ve pulled it up while working at the temple.
“You are a stunning creature. Truly a diamond belonging in these halls,” Oraphia says affectionately as she places a few pins in my hair to hold it in place.
It seems she has a pouch at her waist full of them.
“There’s been chatter amongst the staff about how you look just like Celesta.” She hums as she continues to work.
Oh, here we go.
Of course the castle staff would speculate on my resemblance. Naturally they’d chatter on who I was, their Sovereign King had been seen carrying in a silver-haired fae female, sharing a room with her at night… How could they not be curious?
I release a long sigh.
“While the resemblance is clear, you have a touch of wildness to you. Celesta is too…” She furrows her dark brows as she considers her next words, struggling for a moment to find them.
“Coordinated, too put-together, too pristine. Your beauty isn’t in that you look like her, it’s in how you don’t.
Of course, Celesta is beyond beautiful, she is a goddess. But you, you’re real.”
Her words almost sound like blasphemy. Not something I’d be brave enough to admit as a human, especially in a city filled with fae who’ve devoted their lives to the goddess.
Blinking slowly, I stare at her in the reflection of the mirror while she continues to secure pins in my hair. She’s swept it up, out of my face, leaving a few tendrils free near my pointed ears. It’s a much more skilled rendition of what Cora and I had attempted a couple nights ago.
The thought of Cora grips my heart in ice and I inhale sharply.
“There,” Oraphia breathes, pulling her hands away as she meets my eyes through the reflection of the mirror. “Finished in time, too.” She smiles.
She ushers me out of the chair, forcing me to stand, and carries the chair back to where she had retrieved it. I watch her through the mirror as she flits about, organizing and collecting the few things she had withdrawn from her apron.
A knock at the door sounds and with a smile, Oraphia sweeps across the room to answer. I stare after her as she moves, frozen. A wide grin spreads across her face as she reaches for the door, and stepping back, she swings it open, dipping into a curtsy at the same time.
For whatever reason, my heart decides now is an appropriate time to sprint off to the races. It beats so fast I’m sure it will vanish into the horizon before I can draw a full breath.
Ryc steps into the room and his face turns, his eyes finding mine in less time than it takes for my fluttering heart to beat. He watches the rise and fall of my chest, the bob of my throat as I swallow, before lifting his eyes to meet my stare.
His gold eyes are a color I could lose myself in for an eternity. The color is so easy to catch on, bright against the black of his attire and hair.
“Thank you, Oraphia,” he says, his voice low, his eyes remaining locked on mine. There’s something in the tone of his voice that sends a chill down my spine.
She bobs another curtsy before passing behind him and closing the door softly after her. Ryc and I stand in silence, staring at one another.
If I didn’t know it before, I know it now.
I’m falling in love with this fae.
This strange, wonderful, terrifying creature I’ve dreamed of for centuries.
I cannot explain the draw.
I cannot explain the feelings.
When he looks at me, as he’s doing now, I never want him to look away.
I don’t want him to look at anyone else the way he looks at me.
In an attempt to save myself from teetering into a tailspin, I draw in a long, deep breath and my eyes catch on the silver circlet resting upon his brow.
As if his entire being wasn’t enough to remind me of the impossibility of us, there sits the biggest sign of them all.
I’ve never seen him wear it.
The day in the South Ward, when he rode beside Tanila through the streets—he didn’t even wear it then.
I nearly forget to breathe as he approaches. His hand rises from his side, a pair of dark blue heels hooked in his fingers. The finishing touches of the ensemble he’s curated for me.
With no words passing between us, Ryc’s smile threatens to set me on fire as he sinks to his knees. His eyes don’t leave mine as he sets the shoes on the floor and gently grasps the back of my heel. He lowers his head as he places a shoe upon my foot, his touch gentle.
The sight of his bowed head at the level of my hips causes my mind to go blank.
With an incredibly gentle touch, he ensures the shoe is seated properly before allowing me to return my weight to it.
The height difference causes me to rise a couple of inches, forcing me to brace my hands on his shoulders.
He gives me a moment to find stability before grasping my other foot.
After placing the second shoe, he tilts his face up, a lazy half-grin on his lips as he rises. Capturing his face in my hands, he freezes, staring at me as I pull myself into him, drawing him into me.
“Stop this.” My voice is barely above a whisper. “You’re asking for something I cannot give.”
“I’m not asking you for anything, little demon.” One of his hands cups around mine as the other wraps around my waist, pressing me into his hips.
“I know this game, Ryc,” I say, shaking my head slowly.
“Is it a game?” he challenges me, one of his dark brows arching.
Heart thundering, I swallow against the dryness of my throat. Running a thumb over his lower lip, he presses a soft kiss against it, sending shivers of desire down my spine.
“It always is.” My gaze lingers on his lips longer than it should, and I force myself to meet his stare.
Ryc smiles, and my knees weaken, his arm tightening around me as his other hand falls onto my hip.
“No, not for me,” he says simply. “I’ve been waiting centuries for you, little demon,” he finishes in a whisper, his lips brushing against mine.
Something deep within me tells me I’ve been poised to lose myself to him from the start—whether that start be the night we met on the battlefield or my first night in the living realm, it doesn’t matter.
The connection, the draw, the pull I’m feeling toward him, it doesn’t feel bright and new.
It feels ancient, rediscovered, and it sighs in relief any time he’s near.
“This will never work, Ryc.” My voice is low, as my hands clutch the lapels of his black jacket.
“You didn’t strike me as the type to give up before trying,” He smirks, kissing the corner of my mouth.
The look on his face says there’s more he wants to say, but he releases me from his embrace, my hands dropping to my sides. Instant regret stems from the space now between us, the warmth of his body lost. He offers me a dizzying smile along with his arm.
My eyes fall to his arm before rising again to his face.
A choice.
He’s presenting me with a choice. Again.
Take the arm and walk with him into his world.
Refuse the arm and keep myself on the outside.
A slow, deep breath fills my lungs.
And whether because I’m a fool, or I’ll never be the demon I’m supposed to be, I rest my trembling hand in the crook of his elbow.
Ryc exhales slowly.
Relief, I realize.
We both have fears, and hopes, and dreams hidden in the darkest parts of ourselves. Impossible dreams we reach for anyway.
He places a hand over mine, offering his warmth and stability as he moves to stand beside me. Unable to hold the intensity of his gaze, my eyes wander and catch on our reflection in the tall mirror.
Together we resemble the vastness of the night sky.
He the darkness, and I the moon.