Chapter 13
Nelle
It was almost impossible to sit still while the stylist backcombed my hair. I fidgeted with my robe’s belt, winding it around a finger as I squirmed on the stool, tapping a frustrated rhythm on the carpet and wishing they’d hurry the hells up.
Earlier, Lila had sent in a pair of stylists who bowed nervously before setting up.
Penn had hustled me into the bathroom, politely insisting I scrub clean, and once I’d dried off, the preening began.
Nails shaped, brows plucked, skin buffed and oiled until it gleamed.
And now I sat facing the hairstylist as she worked, my nerves stretched thin.
Penn watched from beside the Crowthers’ steam trunk, absently worrying the cuff of her sleeve, something I’d noticed her do before.
She always wore long sleeves, even in this heat.
It triggered a fleeting reminder of Evvie, like a leaf seized by a gusty wind, but it vanished just as quickly when Lila drifted into my periphery.
She moved like a slow current, the layers of her ivory dress trailing behind as she watched with those strange eyes of hers.
In the long waves of ocean-blue hair was a hairpin slipped into the curls near an ear.
My curious gaze skimmed the ornate shape of a wing studded with pink and yellow diamonds. A dragonfly.
Lila caught me staring.
Our gazes collided, and my heartbeat stumbled.
I wet my lips before offering lamely. “I like your hairpin.”
A flash of a smile touched her lips. “Thank you.”
She seemed as curious about me as I was about her, just like when we first met months ago.
Her Prussian blue eyes still held a galaxy’s worth of secrets.
I wished I had an afternoon to sit with her and ask a gazillion questions, but right now, my nerves were twisted tight, and I had little time before I’d be ushered away to face whatever awaited me at the Emporium.
“Do you remember speaking with me?” I asked Lila.
On a rare excursion off my family estate with Graysen, I’d accompanied my mother and Evvie to the birthday celebrations of the Matriarch of Upper House Zielenski. Lila Simonis had been there too.
“I certainly do,” Lila replied, wandering closer. “You were most curious about my time spent in the Godsbane Prison.”
Yes, I had been incredibly intrigued by her life in the forest prison serving an incarcerated Horned God. As a small child, Lila had been chosen for this duty.
I also knew that after she’d re-entered our world of Houses, she had been promised in marriage to Victor Pellan, Aldert’s younger brother.
And yet she’d managed to avoid that fate, and here she was working at the Emporium.
As far as my memory served, no one from the upper ranks had ever held a position like this.
We were wives, not servants. And certainly not servants at the most maleficent bordello in our world.
Not long after our first encounter, I heard my father speak about Lila on a phone call he’d taken in his office. My blood ran cold at what I’d overheard.
I studied Lila. “A few days after we met at the Zielenski manor, someone attacked you.” With metal spikes, my father had been told. Fence railings—driven through her shoulders. “They pinned you to the door of the Emporium like a butterfly.”
“No,” she corrected with a small, sly smile. “Not like a butterfly…like a dragonfly.” Something sharp and wolfish gleamed in her gaze, as if the name held a deeper meaning. The gleam faded, replaced by an inquisitive look, as though she waited for me to ask more.
How could anyone do something so horrific to her?
“Who was it?”
But she remained silent.
I could have ordered her to tell me as a Wychthorn princess. But who would know whether she told the truth? Besides, I knew how important it was to keep secrets. She could keep that one if she wished.
The hairstylist rounded my figure where I sat on the stool, and the connection between us was severed when the last loose strands of my hair were gathered up. A pin scraped against my skull as the stylist twisted and fixed the handful of hair into place.
I inclined my head politely to Lila, ending our discussion. One day, I hoped I’d learn everything I could about the other girl.
Lila smiled, dipped her head in return, then drifted back toward the racks of hanging dresses and lingerie cluttering the dressing room, passing drawers of accessories and full-length mirrors that reflected every angle of one’s appearance.
The hairstylist frowned in concentration as she used the long end of the comb to poke beneath the puff of my hair, tugging and fluffing for more height before freeing a few spirals and spraying everything with a cloud of sticky chemicals.
She stepped back, satisfied with her work.
The makeup artist swept in next with a palette of liquids, dusts, and creams.
A small, sorrowful part of me wished this were an occasion that deserved this kind of attention, like Evvie’s debut ball, or Lise on her wedding day.
Instead, I was being fussed over to look appealing to the Horned Gods, to pique their interest enough that one might demand the Butcher to appraise my value.
A sleepy, muggy heat pervaded the room. The silky robe was light, but I was still far too hot.
Unease crawled along my bones as I glanced out the open window at the eerie cloud of shadows shielding the Emporium from the world of mortals.
I could feel the ancient building’s intrigue with me, its phantom touch slinking across my skin.
My fingertips curled around the front of the robe, and I flapped the silk to pump air inside to cool my body.
My gaze slipped to Penn in her old-fashioned uniform.
She’d removed her blazer, but sweat thickly beaded at her hairline and sparkled across her brow.
She practically wilted beside the steam trunk.
My concern for her was cut short when the makeup artist murmured, “She’s ready,” and stepped back.
Tension locked my limbs.
I tentatively rose from the stool.
While the taller stylist removed the robe, the other plucked an antique perfume bottle from the cluttered dressing table; styling tools and discarded cosmetics poked amongst the fans crafted from peacock feathers and lace.
I was used to being dressed by servants for important events, so it didn’t bother me that I wore only a strapless bra and simple briefs. Still, the filmy nude material felt seductive and grown-up, and certainly not the plain, comfortable lingerie I always wore.
The stylist waved me forward. Holding the perfume bottle aloft, she pumped the gold-tasseled atomizer. A burst of mist bloomed into a sparkling cloud just before I stepped through, so it lightly coated my skin.
Penn approached. The dress splayed over her arm was indistinguishable with the ruffles of tulle. She helped me into it, fastening the back, then knelt to assist me into a pair of skyscraper heels crusted with white gems.
“For fuck’s sake,” I grumbled under my breath.
Aggravation rolled through me like storm waves.
I hated every cruel sensation prickling my nerves as I slipped my toes into the stupid shoes.
Besides the additional height they provided, I don’t know why the hells they were necessary.
It wasn’t as if anyone would even see them beneath the skirt’s hem.
Penn rose and shifted behind to turn me slowly around to face a tall mirror. Shock electrified my heart as I took in my reflection.
I didn’t recognize the girl—no, the woman—staring back at me.
The backcombing gave the hair dramatic height, arranged into an avant-garde pompadour with crisscrossing satin ribbons and opal studded pins.
The puff of wild tresses had an untamed feel with spiral tendrils sweeping up from my temples.
My makeup was softly muted, my complexion purposely paled with only the barest touch of color sweeping along my cheekbones.
And like the theatrics of my hair, the only feature enhanced was my lips, full and luscious, and coated in a glossy scarlet.
And the dress.
It was exquisite, with a single layer of silver-white tulle that seemed sewn from the fabric of moonlight.
The skirt floated out from the strapless bust with an ethereal lightness, sheer panels of delicate lace stitched into swirling ribbons of stars.
I looked like a shaft of silvery light cutting through darkness.
The second stylist raised a handful of fine glitter. She circled me and blew the tiny pieces on a whirl of breath, once, twice, a third time. I closed my eyes, and my skin tingled where the luminescent substance settled.
When I opened my eyes, the lights had dimmed. And I was met with a dress that gleamed like shimmering moon rays, and the scattering of dust blown over my face and skin glowed. I did more than glow. I sparkled like the Milky Way.
Valarie had gotten exactly what she wanted.
I’d been turned into moonlight.
As the light brightened, I continued to marvel at my appearance, I looked nothing like myself. I looked alluring and provocative in the practically see-through dress. The tulle so sheer, the lace panels so translucent, they revealed every curve and shadow of my figure.
The. Dress. Showed. Everything.
A crack of astonishment exploded inside my chest.
Only underwear stopped anyone from seeing the intimate places on my body.
A terrible feeling began to coil in my gut.
I was at the Emporium, where pleasure was bartered and flesh was currency. And here I was, practically on display in a dress that invited interest.
What the hells were the Crowthers up to?
While the stylists had been fussing with my appearance earlier, I’d caught them exchanging discreet looks at my collar.
Lila’s curiosity had been blatant. She stared unblinkingly at the rough cord before drifting closer with light footsteps, as if bewitched.
She lifted her hand and hovered it an inch from the rope. “Such power…” she breathed.