Chapter Twenty-Four
For five minutes I have been staring at this box on my bed.
When I first walked in my room, I did not see it immediately. But when I finally did, it was almost like time froze. I followed right along with it.
Too scared to even open it, I have resorted to staring at it instead. It could be a trap, or even another clue. Or, this could be it for me, and I could never see Draven again.
Leaving Draven’s room this morning was probably up there on my list of hardest things I have had to do.
I made sure the guards woke me up around six in the morning so that I was gone before he got back from Faeria.
I did not want him finding me in his bed asleep and realize I have been staying there all week.
After everything that happened between us, I doubt he ever wants me in there again.
When I got back to my room, I got dressed and immediately went downstairs to train. Hours passed and finally a messenger elf came into the arena to notify me that my new lady’s maid was in my room waiting for me so she could get me ready.
A gift from the king, the elf said.
The king also told me not to embarrass him. I am sure that meant that I need to look appropriate tonight. Not that I am going to complain, getting myself ready was not something I was looking forward to.
I did, however, manage to pick my dress out this morning.
Ivorie and I ordered some formal dresses a few months back for any future balls or dinners.
I settled for an all-black silk gown, embroidered from top to bottom in black jewels, that ends in a long train.
It has black satin gloves to match. The straps on the gown are thin, the neckline low.
Showing some extra cleavage never hurt anyone.
Black also felt fitting because why not mourn my loss of self-preservation as I celebrate the arranged marriage I was forced into by a crazy man.
When I got back to my room, I quickly found out that my new lady’s maid is an irritable troll. Literally.
She has skin like tree bark and hair like silver wire. She does not speak to me, only huffs. As soon as I stepped into the room after she called for me, I got my ass handed to me. Silently.
She nearly pushed me into the tub where she, very aggressively, scrubbed my skin raw. As I tried to tell her that I just washed my hair and it was not necessary to do it again, she quite literally shoved me under the water then scrubbed my scalp until it was sore.
For being so short, she is strong, I will give her that.
Now, I am standing in my robe, staring at this box on my bed.
I asked the troll to give me a few minutes to myself before we proceeded because I was about to have another mental break down, but talked myself off the ledge. After taking many deep breaths, I have slowly prevented myself from spiraling.
The box is butter yellow. Around it is a golden ribbon, tied in a very big bow at the top. If I just move my hand forward and pull the ribbon, it will come loose and I can open it.
I nod to myself. That is what I am going to do, open it.
I pinch the string between my two fingers and close my eyes. I pull fast, releasing the bow from its original shape. I find the edge of the top and flip it up, the sides of the box falling with it.
Opening one eye slowly, I see white material and the corner of a piece of paper on top. Both of my eyes fly open. Inside the box is a dress, and there is a note on top.
A note covered in handwriting I would recognize anywhere.
Little sun,
I do hope you are not still angry enough to refuse wearing this. That would be a shame because it would look lovely on you.
- Draven
I drop the note onto the bed. Raising my fingers to my lips, they hit my teeth instead. Nothing can stop the wide smile, spreading across my face right now.
There is vulnerability hiding under the words of that note. My feelings reflected on whether I wear the gown he sent me or not.
Reaching down, I grab the white material and slowly pull it up and out of the box as it falls to the ground. The gowns details are not done any justice by being held up.
I will have to just wear it then.
“I am ready,” I shout.
The troll scuttles back into the room quickly, walking over to me and snatching the dress out of my hands and hanging it up on the wardrobe door. She smooths the material down and walks over to the box, grabbing more material I did not see. She motions for me to sit down in the chair and oblige.
She grabs some hair tools out of her bag and starts running her hands through my hair, drying it with spellwork. All this time I did not realize what Ivorie was doing while she got me ready. It makes me feel silly.
When my hair is all dry, soft waves roll down my back. She takes a pair of scissors out of her bag, trimming my ends and the pieces along my face, the trim instantly making my hair appear healthier and shinier.
She grabs the curling iron and starts to form perfect ringlets throughout my hair.
It does not take her long as she moves at a rapid pace.
When she is done curling, she takes her fingers and starts to run them through my hair, whispering.
I watch as thin lines of shinning silver start to twirl their way through each curl.
She then grabs the pieces around my face, pulling it back into a half-up half-down style.
Twisting and pinning the pieces until she is satisfied.
I see her nod at my head in the mirror. I nod back to her. She does do a fine job.
Moving on, she gets started on my makeup.
Although I am wary about her having a stick that close to my eye, she puts my eyeliner on with precision.
She coats the top and bottom waterline in black, forming a tiny wing at the corner that sharpens my eyes.
She then takes the mascara and applies it only on the outside eyelashes.
I look into the mirror when she is done in awe at the difference it has made in my eyes, emphasizing the almond shape of them and making the brown stand out.
She shakes the glass bottle of cheek and lip tint and dumps a couple of drops into her hands, the color a deep red. She rubs the drops in between her fingers and then pats my cheeks, giving them a rosy finish. She repeats and does it to my lips this time. They look like they have just been bitten.
She steps back from me and gestures in the mirror for me to look at myself. Looking up at the mirror, my own features startle me.
I look pretty.
Ethereal in a way that does not make me afraid of myself. Knowing that my eyes changed back to brown has made a huge difference in how I view myself. Looking in the mirror now confirms the difference I feel.
I clear my throat and avert my eyes. “It looks wonderful. Thank you, truly.”
She nods in response, gesturing me to stand up.
Walking over to where the dress is hanging, she gestures for me to get undressed. I drop my robe to the ground and step into the dress as she holds it out for me. Shimming it up my hips, she straightens it out as I slip my arms through the straps.
The dress is white as snow. The straps are thick and embroidered.
The embroidery continues down the bodice of the gown, detailing it in silver and platinum beads.
The neckline is straight across my chest but low.
The bodice laces in the back, squeezing my waist inward and breast upward, as she tightens and ties it.
Where the bodice stops, the embroidery follows the skirt of the gown down to the hem. The pattern not as tightly sewn and intricate on the skirt as on the bodice. It fits like a glove, as if he got my exact measurements.
The troll walks over holding more material in her hands. I look down and realize they are detachable sleeves. She slides them over my hands and up to my biceps where they stop midway. She does the same on the other side.
I hold both of my arms up, so I can see the sleeves better. They flow all the way down to the ground. There is thin silver thread sewn throughout them. Looking closer, I make out the pattern of the thread, realizing what they are made to look like.
Wings. Fairy wings.
The dress takes my breath away as I look at myself in the mirror. I cannot help but wonder where he got this from.
The troll walks over to me, silver flats in hand. She slips them on my feet, although it does not matter, the dress is too long to see them.
I do quick spin in the mirror, admiring the way the sleeves fan out as I turn.
As she is turned around cleaning up where I got ready at, I rush over to my bag and pull out my dagger.
I make quick work of strapping it in place around my leg.
I stand up and adjust my gown so that it is completely covering it.
“I think I am ready,” I say.
She turns around and assesses me with a nod. Walking forward, she comes up behind me and ushers me toward the door, opening it for me.
Walking out into the hallway, I look back and forth at both of the guards, then start to walk down the hall.
It is time to see the Prince of Vryko.