39. Verena
Verena
It’s miraculous what one solid night of sleep and a long bubble bath can do for a woman.
I don’t know why most of my nightmares took a hiatus last night, but pep has officially returned to my step. My dark circles are pretty much gone as I admire myself in the vanity mirror of the luxurious guest room they set up for Queen Rhinestone.
Eris is weirdly absent from the mirror. I wonder where he’s been all morning.
I also wonder how Beowulf is doing in the barracks.
I’m tempted to ask one of the Isenmerian guards to go see if my sworn protector has turned into a bear and eaten all of Aurefeld’s knights yet—but I also worry that sending someone might tip off the powers that be and get Wulf sent further away from me.
I slept in pretty damn late before I took my time enjoying the hot bath that was brought to my room by some very nice Aurefeld Castle servants, who only seemed mildly terrified to be near Isenmere’s notoriously bitchy queen.
Now, it’s already evening—almost time for me to head toward the grand ballroom for the first night of the festival.
Where I’m going to meet the Cinderella.
Hopefully.
I’ve already dolled myself up. Hair pinned in an elaborate updo, check. A touch of charcoal around my eyes and lightly scented oils smoothed all over my skin, check. Rubies made to look like blood dripping from my necklace and earrings, check.
I even brought the little pot of red lip stain I found among Rhinestone’s many cosmetics, which isn’t doing a shabby job of covering the bite mark still healing on my lower lip.
All that’s missing is the dress and mask, and then I’ll stroll into the masquerade with Snow White, Anika, and Ingrid.
God, I cannot wait to see them in their dresses. As much as I’m focused on getting home, my inner child fashion nerd who watched The Devil Wears Prada about eight trillion times is beyond excited to see a bunch of beautiful fairytale ballroom dresses.
Just as I’ve finished donning the spectacular dress Ida perfected for me and pulling on the dark red opera gloves, Eris appears in the vanity mirror.
He looks like he’s about to say something, but freezes with his mouth hanging open slightly, eyes widening on me.
“There you are,” I grin, spinning to give him the full effect. What do you think?”
Ida killed it. While I was unsure about using the two things I couldn’t stop thinking about as inspiration—namely, the creepy broken mirror in Rhinestone’s secret passageway and, of course, blood—I think it paid off.
The ball gown is made of silvery-blue mirror flax.
Its corset-like bodice has a sweetheart neckline and is carefully embroidered to look like it’s covered in delicate hairline fractures, perfectly capturing the effect of a broken mirror.
Though the skirt starts off liquid silver, it melts into a deep, violent red where it billows to the floor.
My silver masquerade mask is inlaid with delicate glass shards to enhance the broken-mirror look.
I’m fucking proud of the way it all turned out, but when Eris says nothing, I look up curiously.
His opalescent gaze drinks me in for another moment before he swallows hard. His voice is rough enough to make my stomach flip.
“I think you’re trying to kill me, Fairest.”
“That bad?” I joke.
“Don’t make light of taunting a starving man. As if I didn’t crave you to the point of madness before, now you have to look like this on a full moon.”
I’m not sure what the full moon tonight has to do with anything. But I’m suddenly having a really hard time finding a way to tease my pearlescent model about saying he craves me again when he’s staring at me with such…desire.
If I’m honest with myself, the feeling is mutual.
If I could pull Eris through the glass into this world and drag him to the masquerade with me, I would—but at least I know he’ll be there in this way, watching me.
With a pounding heart, I accept the compliment, grab my cracked-mirror-like mask from the vanity, and slip it on. Then I take a deep breath.
“Okay. Operation Bum-Magic-Off-Cinderella begins now,” I tell myself.
I lock the queen’s guest room as I leave and make swift progress through the Isenmerian guest wing of the castle.
Up ahead, I spot Snow White standing with Anika and Ingrid, all of them chatting excitedly as Isenmerian guards stand waiting to escort us to the ballroom.
I don’t realize Eris must be in the reflection in my mask until he speaks.
“Wait, Verena. About that knight from yesterday—”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. You want me to get over my fear of gore and guzzle his Kool-Aid.”
“You should feed on him, but when I searched the barracks, I didn’t see—”
“Eris. I really want to just pretend I’m a normal, non-Kool-Aid-guzzling woman. I want one beautiful, sparkling night in this world where I don’t feel like a fucking monster. So can you not bring up the B-word or that knight tonight? Please?” I tack on.
He pauses and then sighs. “Why can’t I say no to you?”
“Because my Sundance Kid would never.”
When I reach Snow White and the others, I can’t help it. I clap and squeal like I’m ten years old and we’re all showing off cute pajamas at a slumber party, even though that makes some of the Isenmerian guards look both scared and confused.
Poor men. So easily affected by a little playful whimsy.
“Oh my god, look at you! You look incredible,” I gush, taking Snow’s hands to spin her around.
The princess beams at me from under her dark blue mask.
It’s dusted with crystal beadwork to give it a frosted look.
That same beadwork is incorporated into her ivory-and-midnight-blue ballgown.
The fitted bodice is embroidered with blood-red roses to match her lips, with more roses scattered throughout her pitch-black updo.
“Me? Vera, you are ravishing!” she gasps, reaching out to touch one of my blood-like dangling earrings. Then she frowns. “Wait, is the Huntsman not attending the masquerade? But that’s such a shame! Wulf simply must see you like this.”
I laugh at my thwarted little matchmaker before Anika, Ingrid, and I take turns admiring each other’s ensembles.
Me, Ida, and the other seamstresses worked together to make Ingrid an elegant soft pink dress covered in hundreds of feather-like pieces of glimmer gauze. It’s feminine and gorgeous, just like her—and her mask completes the look with pink wings sweeping back from its temples.
And yet again, Anika looks like a fucking model.
Her opulent gown is entirely made of golden wispfloss that cascades to the floor in sweeping layers.
Delicate golden chainmail is woven into the bodice.
Her mask is embroidered with a swirling golden pattern that catches the light of nearby sconces and chandeliers as she grins at me.
“My parents are already inside.” She offers her arm. “Shall we?”
I link my arm in hers as we start in the direction of the ballroom. “We shall indeed. By the way, I might owe you an apology.”
“For?”
I make sure Ingrid and Snow White are distracted with their own conversation before I whisper, “I kind of talked to Prince Leif yesterday.”
Anika is so startled that she halts in place for a second before walking on. “Oh. What exactly did you talk to him about?”
I catch her up on the agreement not to tell his parents the Bellevyrs are here, and how he seemed eager to speak with her at the ball.
By the time I’m done catching her up, we’re approaching the massive, wide-open gilded doors of the ballroom. Our group melts into a crowd of hundreds of people entering the castle to attend the first night of the festival. Everyone is dressed in ballgowns and masquerade masks.
They give the Isenmerian guards around us a wide berth, but I catch several wide-eyed stares directed at me. People seem to recognize who I am, probably thanks to the silver crown perched on my head, sans veil tonight since I thought the mask would suffice.
They whisper and gawk, but Anika has my attention as she considers everything I just said.
“You don’t owe me an apology,” she finally says.
“Then does that mean you and the crown prince…?” I begin, elbowing her teasingly.
She looks forward, at the horde of people pouring through the ballroom doors directly in front of us.
“If he wants to talk to me at this festival, I won’t shun him.
He’s royalty. He can speak to whoever he likes, but…
he is still betrothed.” She looks at me, resolve settling in her dark eyes.
“Besides, as you’ve told Snow White repeatedly, we’re just here for fun. That’s all, so let’s enjoy the night.”
She’s right. That’s enough boy talk—especially when we’re officially stepping through the massive doorway into a gorgeous Baroque-style ballroom.
Gold accents gleam all over the carved walls. Towering columns are wrapped in carvings of lions and flourishing vines. The ceiling is painted with scenes of a faerie—Gilda, I assume—surrounded by real jewels of every kind, gleaming in the light of the intricate chandeliers blazing overhead.
On one end of the room, grand stairs ascend to a majestic dais, where two cushioned chairs wait to oversee the festivities. They’re empty for now, the king and queen not yet here.
The room fills quickly with attendees in velvet gloves, gleaming jewels, and more cape suits that make my designer heart giddy. The air feels alive with fruit-scented perfumes, candlewax, and excitement.
It’s all so fucking dazzling.
Tonight, I really do feel like I’ve fallen into a fairy tale, despite the persistent ache of thirst still twisting my stomach.
But…
“Why isn’t there any music?” I ask out loud.
I spot the orchestra on a long stage along one wall of the grandiose room. The musicians aren’t touching their many instruments. Behind them is a massive, roundish object of some kind, draped in a shimmering dark green veil to hide whatever lies inside.
“Perhaps they’re waiting for an official announcement to begin the festival,” Ingrid muses.
Snow White spots castle servants entering the room with platters of fruit tarts and candied nuts. She gasps and turns wide eyes on me like she’s waiting for the green light.
“Hey, don’t look at me, I’m not a fruit tart,” I laugh. “We’ll catch up later, but remember what we talked about: If anyone, especially a guy, lays a finger anywhere on you without your explicit consent—”
“Loudly proclaim that they are a creep who didn’t have permission to touch me, and remind them that people will get…b-beheaded for touching royals without permission,” she recites, though that last part makes her grimace.
“And?”
“And knee them hard between the legs if they try to touch me again, then go find you.”
“You nailed it. But again, you’re getting knife lessons soon, since pepper spray sadly isn’t a thing here,” I sigh. “Okay, go have fun.”
Snow White flashes one more bright smile at me before taking Ingrid’s hand to lead her away. The girls chatter with excitement as they weave through the crowd toward the treats.
Although the ballroom is now filled with people, everyone still gives me plenty of space. The Isenmerian guards have retreated to stand alert with other guards at the edge of the room.
Anika is still beside me, taking in the grandeur. I’m also pretty sure Eris is still hanging out in my reflective mask.
But already, my eyes are skimming the crowd of ostentatious people chatting happily. Everyone seems excited to be here. A few are still casting looks at me and whispering behind their gloves, but I’m not invested enough in Rhinestone’s reputation in Aurefeld to care much.
I’m too busy wondering how the hell I’m going to recognize Cinderella.
In the old fairy tales I grew up reading, Cinderella waits until her stepmother and stepsisters have finished bullying her before they head off to the festival.
Then she goes to the hazel tree watered by her own tears at her mother’s grave and asks it for gold and silver.
The bird in the tree throws down a gold-and-silver dress and gold-and-silver embroidered slippers, which she puts on before rushing to the festival, too.
I’m assuming that means she’ll be wearing gold and silver in this twisted fairytale world…but holy shit, there are already a lot of gowns here that match that description.
Should I just wait by the door for her to arrive fashionably late?
I start to turn to retrace my steps through the chattering crowd, but I blink when Anika steps to one side to keep me in front of her.
“Wait,” she mutters. “He’s about to look over here, and suddenly I feel like this mask is not enough.”
I realize that the dais is no longer empty. Prince Leif stands there now in another excellent cape suit, scanning the crowd with obvious intent. He has a mask on, but the crown is a giveaway.
“Whatever happened to I won’t shun him?” I laugh, stepping aside again so she has no human shield.
“That was before I saw him,” Anika huffs, fanning herself with her hand. “You didn’t mention he looks like that now. Crones, he got tall and…”
“Gorgeous,” I supply. “He’s gorgeous, you’re gorgeous, so go be fucking gorgeous together.”
She looks dubious—but sure enough, the mask was not enough to disguise Anika’s distinctive beauty, because Prince Leif seems to have spotted her.
He’s already descending the stairs, offering tight smiles and quick replies to the many nobles and ballroom-goers who try to get his attention as he makes a beeline through the crowd toward us.
Before he reaches us, a hush falls over the entire ballroom as King Roderik and Queen Gisela finally step out onto the dais from a side door.
Another man is with them. He’s wearing a gold masquerade mask that obscures most of his face and is dressed in a white cape suit just as ornate as Prince Leif’s.
“There he is. Future Mr. Cinderella,” I mutter to myself.
“Future who?” Eris asks from my mask, startling me.
Since I can’t see him, I’ll just have to treat this like we’re on a Bluetooth call until I take off this mask.
“Never mind,” I tell him.
I shut up quickly when Anika shoots me a look like she’s wondering who the fuck I’m talking to.
Since I may not be able to recognize Cinderella, maybe I should just shadow Aurefeld’s second prince. He’s supposed to fall head over heels and spend the whole night dancing with her, so all I have to do is tag along and wait for the right moment to ask for a second of her time.
King Roderik waits until the ballroom gets a little quieter before he greets everyone in a booming voice.
“Honored guests, welcome. We begin this festival with a performance unlike any you may have seen before. With my blessing and the explicit permission of the Church of Thirteen Lights, please enjoy a magical performance by the famed Pied Piper himself.”