Twenty-Four #2
My stomach tightened at her insinuation, but her tinkling laugh drowned out Rorik’s litany of curses, and she gently steered me toward our room to prepare for the night. Once she closed the door behind us, she rolled her eyes.
“He’s such a bother.” She moved past the bed I’d yet to sleep in—though I hadn’t even asked if she’d really have shared it with me—and led the way to the attached bathroom.
Even though I’d already bathed once today, Seville said that my time wandering through the gardens deemed another quick wash. I didn’t dare argue.
Once I was done, Seville bathed, too. “For solidarity,” she’d said with a chuckle.
I found myself smiling and shaking my head, happy to have her by my side.
While she reclined in the tub and I sat on a nearby stool in my towel, I stared at her through the reflection of an ornate, freestanding mirror.
“This brings back memories,” I mused.
Seville leaned her cheek on the rim of the tub. “Of your almost wedding?”
“Thank fuck that fell through,” I said with a brittle laugh. “But the night before, with you and Amalyss and Tasia . . . I enjoyed that.”
She studied me for a long moment, then looked at the ceiling. “I’ve never had a sister, and yet, you’ve somehow made me care about your existence. What rare plant did you put into my drinks to make that happen?”
An expansive feeling spread through my chest, and my shoulders slackened. I’d never had a sister, either. And while at first Seville intimidated me and, quite frankly, terrified me at times, I’d grown to love her. Deeply.
“Well, it wasn’t just one plant.” I smirked. “It was a series of carefully crafted tinctures.”
“I would expect nothing less,” she said with a laugh.
Then, more softly: “I hope you know what you’re doing, Edira.
I don’t want you to die.” Her words were barely more than a whisper, but they blanketed over me with such warmth that I couldn’t help but sigh.
After a beat, she stood up and reached for her towel.
“But enough of that. We have a gala to dress for.”
After we were both dry, we slipped into satin robes, and she set me before a mahogany vanity in the bedroom.
She cursed the lighting and tried in vain to throw the curtains open wider, as if that would somehow chase away the clouds in the sky, but eventually settled with just the weak light of the filtered afternoon sun and the chandelier above our heads.
She spent the next hour perfecting my makeup and styling my stark-white hair in a waterfall braid.
Once she deemed me “perfect,” she swept her own hair up into a quick but artful updo and then began to rummage through her luggage.
“Here it is!” With a triumphant smile, she held up an unmarked jar with a cork lid. “A little goes a long way. Lather up.”
Bringing the jar to my nose, I inhaled and was immediately rewarded with a heavenly burst of bergamot, honeysuckle, and vanilla. I greedily scooped out a heavy portion of the lotion with two fingers. As I rubbed it into my skin, it left behind a resplendent shimmer.
Seville did the same and then returned it to her luggage. “And now for the most important part: clothes.”
But what Seville extracted from her case wasn’t just clothes.
It was lingerie. Specifically, the piece she’d had custom-made for me from Mrs. Marlow’s shop.
She thrust it toward me, and I caught it midair.
The gilded, silken fabric was dotted with onyx crystals for coverage across the bosom, but sheer beneath the bust with ebony boning and intricate, scalloped lace.
The bottoms, if I could even call them that, were made with the same design and material but had absolutely zero chance of hiding my ass.
Heat flushed my cheeks. “You can’t possibly be serious.”
“Oh, I’m deadly serious.” Seville extracted her own scarlet ensemble that stood out like blood against her pale skin.
“This is a coupling fete. This attire is expected. But . . .” She dropped her outfit on the bed and moved to the armoire, where she’d hung a few garments for easy access.
She immediately snatched what looked like a long, see-through robe of sheer black material.
The hems were sewn with gold stitching, but more impressive was the smattering of beetles crawling vertically up the center of the robe where it parted open.
Each one had been crafted of gilded, near-translucent beads with shimmering, delicate wings.
“Seville,” I said, rounding on her with a pointed look. “That is the furthest thing from subtle.”
A happy chuckle slipped from her lips. “Good, because I wasn’t trying to be. I had Mrs. Marlow throw this together the moment we learned of the fete. Now put it on.”
The lingerie fit me like a second skin. Once I’d secured the final clasp at my back, I reached for the robe and stood before Seville.
Her gaze lit with pure mischief and delight.
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as she produced a golden chain and passed it through the loops along my waist, securely tying the robe in place.
Not that it mattered. I was still on full display.
A knock sounded from the door, and butterflies took flight in my stomach. Rorik.
“What?” Seville called as she shimmied into her own getup. “We’re not ready yet.”
“Zeverin summoned me.” Rorik spat his father’s name through the door. “I imagine he’ll want to know if you’ve shared any tips with Dermon for mending.”
“I have nothing new to offer,” I called back. “Dermon will confirm that.”
“Good. I’m going down now to play the role of disinterested bastard and assuage any concerns beyond what he expects: incompetence.” With that, his feet thudded against the floorboards, and he was gone.
“This should do the trick.” She twirled once, watching her legs carefully to see if anything was exposed.
Her chiffon lingerie was sheer from her chest down to her narrow hips, with only a carefully placed rosebud appliqué over each of her breasts.
Her back was completely open, and to add even more allure to the look, she revealed her mosaic wings and let them flutter behind her.
From her waist down to her ankles, the skirt was crafted of flowing silk and hinted at the shape of her legs.
“You look incredible.” The words felt so unbelievably hollow when in all reality, Seville was one of the most stunning people I’d ever laid eyes on. When I’d first met her, I’d felt a prickle of attraction. But now, she was my sister. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
She smiled as she slipped a red garter up her thigh where she planned to stash the perfume bottle of irysdrop, perfectly out of sight.
“You’re a vision yourself,” she said through a hum.
A rush of excitement purled through my limbs.
The last time I’d dolled up for a fete, I’d looked like a garden.
But this made me feel exquisite. The brush of fabric against my skin was nearly erotic, and I couldn’t help but wonder what Rorik would think.
I wanted him to come undone. I wanted him bare and vulnerable and completely, utterly mine.
Foolish. Still, I couldn’t help but want it.
“Now, let’s grab our concoction and be on our way,” Seville said.
We returned to the main sitting area, and she snagged the vial from the table. With ease, she peeled back the slip of fabric obscuring her leg and tucked the bottle safely in her garter belt.
“Time to get ourselves a blade.” She raised her chin slightly and brushed a few loose locks of hair off her shoulders.
Even now, about to poison our host and steal from his private stash, she didn’t look the least bit frightened.
If anything, she looked confident. Powerful.
And she would make Zeverin regret ever insinuating she was only good for her womb.