50. Chapter Fifty
Chapter fifty
My dreams were cruel, the fog of fatigue left in their wake doesn't lift until early afternoon, tormented by thoughts of being responsible for that woman’s death and the far worse replays of Dex’s final moments.
How am I supposed to tell his girls he died in a dirty side street, trying to protect me?
And I’m planning to honor his memory by dressing up and flirting with some guy at a party soon.
Zenn held me through the night, my head on his chest, listening to the comforting rhythm of his steady heartbeat and tracing the strong pulses of power behind his stars.
I let myself have these last fortifying moments before it’s time to put on a show.
I have a part to play, the bright, shiny, effervescent butterfly drawing in a prince.
A knock at the door forces me out of bed. Jeska leans against the opposite wall, a look of boredom plastered on her face. "Commander says it's time to get up and get ready, princess. Eat, bathe, try healing yourself again. Blah, blah."
"Ok, thanks." I laugh a little at her absolute lack of enthusiasm. "Where is he?"
"Out."
I tilt my head and scowl. "Helpful."
"Oh, you actually want to know? Ok, he's out putting those well-honed skills and talents to good use, preparing for our mission tonight. Oh wait, no, he's not. He's out buying you a gods damn dress."
I'm lucky looks can't kill, because the daggers she just shot me were lethal.
Her snark, my grief over Dex, the fear I'm about to fail, and even the wild hope I'll find Bri tonight...none of it’s strong enough to extinguish the warmth spreading through my chest at the idea of Zenn out there comparing styles, colors, and fabrics to buy me something to wear.
An hour later, I'm fed, showered, and pleasantly surprised to be able to use magic again when I attempt to heal my injuries before slipping into clean training clothes.
While the pain is still present, it's a small price to pay, considering I had no idea how long the consequences of spilling blood with my Ritual dagger would last.
The bigger surprise comes when I cautiously offer to heal Jeska's black eye and bruises, and she accepts, even following up by impatiently insisting on fixing whatever I'm trying to do with my hair.
After I try and fail to wrangle it for far too long, I appreciate the help, even if she's clearly still not my biggest fan.
I think she's softened a little since I took care of Hendrix, though.
She makes quick work of pinning the intricate half-up style and is finishing right as the two scowling men stomp through the door, looking exhausted. "Going to that place today may have been a mistake," Zenn says, handing me a long garment bag and slumping in a chair.
"I feared for my life at least three times in those crowds," Hendrix agrees, pulling out a flask. The misery on their faces tugs a real laugh out of me, and Zenn looks up, scowl softening into a smile.
Jeska rolls her eyes at him. "Are you going to show us what you bought then? I'm dying to know if you actually have taste."
"Oh, so this isn't a regular occurrence?" I ask, stupid heart skipping a beat or two.
"No, Aly. I'm not in the habit of buying women clothes." He gives me a cocky smirk. "I even remembered shoes. Figured this wasn’t a boots kind of thing."
Laughing again, I shake my head, trying not to show I’m impressed. I hadn't even thought about shoes. "If you're done showing off, would you like me to heal you two now?"
He surveys my face, all traces of yesterday gone. "Your magic is back."
"Come find out," I challenge, beckoning to him with a curled finger.
Hendrix shifts between us. "None of that. Save it for the prince, remember?"
I side-step him and reach for Zenn, already dropping to the lava-filled trench with more ease this time, maybe because I was just there.
Magic that's starting to feel like mine practically purrs in response when my fingertips make contact with his skin.
I barely need to nudge before it pours into him, and I feel it gleefully race to heal the cut at his temple and the deep bruise on his thigh.
Tearing myself away, I watch him head down the hall to our room before repeating the process with Hendrix, refusing to show signs of the accompanying pain to either man.
"Holy gods, woman, what did you do? I feel like I’ve had a seven course feast and slept twelve solid hours. A guy could absolutely get used to this kind of boost."
"A guy shouldn't," Jeska mutters, looping her arm through the crook of his to pull him away. "Come on, we need to get ready too."
"I mean it. You're never allowed to leave us," Hendrix calls over his shoulder. Alone in the sunlit room, I grapple with the realization that leaving them might have become something I don't want to do.
Zenn is nowhere to be seen when I duck into our room.
Hanging by the window is a beautiful gown in my new favorite shade of blue.
On the chair next to it, in the exact same color, is a pair of soft, low-heeled slippers and a very impractical scrap of lace, supposed to pass as underwear.
The man literally thought of everything.
By the time he returns, looking mouth-watering in an open collared crisp black shirt and fitted pants, I'm tucking the corset laces into the back of the dress.
Years of practice makes the task of cinching myself in an easy one.
He stops dead in his tracks, mouth falling open as his eyes roam my body.
Oh gods, does it look terrible? I never would've chosen something so tight, especially without my mother or one of my sisters here to help me hide the parts I don't want on display.
"Aly, fuck." Zenn's breathless whisper cuts through the noise in my head.
"Is it what you imagined?" I ask hopefully.
"I couldn't… Have you not seen yourself?
" His eyes widen a fraction when I shake my head, and he spins me to face the mirror in the far corner of the room.
For once, I ignore the instinct to look away from my reflection, drinking it in.
He chose the perfect dress. I've never worn anything so exquisite.
The lush, silky fabric of the bodice clings lovingly, dipping low between my breasts and snaking up wider over my heart and left shoulder, where it spills down my back in a sheer train, leaving the other shoulder and top of my chest completely bare.
Petal-like layers of gauzy material start at my waist and flow to the floor, with a slit up one side allowing for movement.
"You look so beautiful." Zenn stands behind me, voice low and husky, making my cheeks flush with pleasure when I meet his heated gaze in the mirror, the hunger and approval emanating from him, settles under my skin, sparking my own desire.
Glancing between his face and the plunging neckline, I ask, "Should I assume Hendrix is to blame for this particular style choice?"
His tattooed fingers trace a slow fiery caress from the sensitive spot behind my ear, along my jaw and neck, down my throat and across the fabric, skimming the curves of my breasts.
"He wasn't brave enough to come into the clothiers, so feel free to direct all forms of praise and gratitude regarding every aspect of your outfit to me. "
My face burns hotter when his hands drop to knowingly stroke over my hips. "I'll admit, this particular addition was selfish. If I have to watch you flirt with another man tonight, at least I can distract myself with the knowledge of exactly how little you're wearing under this dress."
I'm dangerously close to letting him have a visual to go with that knowledge when he clears his throat and takes half a step back, pulling a familiar black velvet bag from his pocket.
"I thought maybe you'd wear this too?" He tugs the bag open to reveal the unusual opalescent pendant he'd shown me in the castle gardens what feels like a lifetime ago.
On the plush velvet next to it sits his intricate gold guitar.
"You want me to wear your mother's necklace?" I ask softly.
Zenn's answering smile is heartbreakingly sad for a second before he straightens, hand rubbing over the freshly tidied stubble covering his jaw.
"Only if you want to. I figured the outfit might call for jewelry.
You don't have to if they don't go together or whatever. " He shrugs, stumbling over his words.
"I'd love to wear it. Thank you. For this, for all of it."
He nods, relief flickering in his eyes before he reaches to unclasp the chain around my neck. "May I?"
"Please," I murmur, holding out my hand for Bri's ring, which I slip onto my bare hand while he refastens the necklace, now with the foreign weight of the heart-shaped gemstone at the base of my throat.
Cradling its grooved surface in my palm, I get that warm sense of approval again, and I swear, it's like the pendant hums in agreement.
Sensing he might need a minute, I slip the heels and gloves on after dabbing my wrists and neck with my perfume from Bri.
Leaning in close to the mirror, I paint my lips a soft shade of pink with the only cosmetics I bother to own.
The sting of the capsaicin lasts seconds, but the glossy, plumping effect will be my secret weapon all night.
To attract the prince, I blatantly lie to myself.
As if there's any doubt who I want thinking about kissing me.
Like I summoned him, moth to flame, Zenn comes to stand next to me in the mirror.
His elegant, dark jacket has intricate ebony embroidery at the collar and cuffs, and damn, if it doesn't fit him perfectly.
A little too perfectly, now that I look closer, gasping delightedly.
"Please tell me my eyes aren't deceiving me, and you got your jacket tailored to your measurements while you were out?
I didn't know you cared about your appearance so much, my lord. "
He looks at me with narrowed eyes, the tiniest hint of color on his cheeks.
In the next heartbeat, he spins me to face him, stare fixated on my glossy mouth as he cocks his head and leans in.
"Oh, pretty girl. You should know, every time you call me that, I picture you doing very unladylike things to me, in great detail.
" His wicked smirk is pure sex, and my insides liquify, making me wish we could skip the ball and lock ourselves in this room.
A loud knock on the door and Jeska calling for us to hurry up reminds me how impossible that is. So, I force myself to look away from the sensual promise burning in his eyes and grab our silver masks.
"Before you put that on, one last finishing touch," Zenn rasps, not so subtly adjusting the front of his pants. At least I'm not the only one affected by our little exchange.
"What more could there possibly be?" I ask, failing to think of anything he's missed. My curiosity only intensifies when he pulls his dagger from the inner pocket of his jacket and makes a tiny cut across the pad of his pinky finger. To imbue something?
As he holds his hands out, palm up, silvery power streams from them in a cascade of fine smoke that swirls around me until I see stars.
Magic settles on my bodice and skirt, creating a shimmering galaxy of constellations sparkling against a backdrop of sapphire blue.
Each drop refracts the early evening light pouring in through the window, casting tiny rainbows on the walls, the floor, our skin. The effect is breathtaking.
Sealing an inside corner of my hem with a swipe of his gold-covered fingertip, he takes my mask and gently weaves the ribbon through my hair, fixing it in place before securing his own, whispering against my ear, "I wanted to adorn you myself."