“Sovereign Queen, Your Majesty,” Oraphia corrects with a subtle pride. “YourSovereign Queen.”
A smile brighter than the godsdamned sun spreads across his ridiculously handsome face as he nods.
“Yes,” he says, holding my stare. “Mine.”
?????????????
Covering the mirrors has to be some kind of strange faerietradition.
What tradition?
I couldn’t say.
Nor would I have any idea where to start speculating. But every mirror in my quarters has been hidden away, draped with flowing white silk. The tall standing mirror, the mirror over the vanity counter, even the mirror in the bathing room.
I’ve been left with no means to view myself.
And as the morning has progressed, my curiosity and vanity has grown stifling. I would ask Oraphia, but in addition to Raevi, two other castle staff busy themselves in my quarters, neither of whom I know.
Instead, I remain silently frustrated as Oraphia continues to work upon my hair. The two unknown attendants have dressed the mannequin and currently flit about it, ensuring silver buttons are polished, no wayward crease exists in the silk or lace, and the lengthy black train sits smooth across the floor.
It’s… abeastof a dress.
At least, it is from what I can see.
And in black no less. The Witherhorn family color. While I highly doubt Nektos took the time to care about something so trivial, I’m thankful it isn’t a garish shade like that of Eloric’s family. If I’m to be crowned, the last thing I need is to look like a withering flower while it happens.
With Oraphia’s hands in my hair it’s hard to glean a better glimpse without risking her annoyance. I’d rather not ruin whatever skilled magic it is she works on behind me.
Raevi hovers a short distance away, alsojustout of view, unpacking the box left upon the table. Things seem andfeelslightly different than the last time we spoke. She smiles and bubbles with warmth—traces of the skittish creature she was the last time we sat in a room together nowhere to be found.
I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to know what prompted the change. But asking such questions in the presence of others feels less than appropriate and more unnecessarily exposing.
Perhaps she’s made some discovery—something granting her life after Fate. Or perhaps she’s come to terms with death huntingher. Either way, I’m oddly relieved to see she hasn’t fled.
Oraphia’s hands leave my hair and my head swivels toward the dress.
It’s not a frilly, voluminous, filled with layers of air kind of thing—and thank the gods for that. No, it’s a slender slip of silk, wrapped in black lace. No sleeves, high collar, and plummeting neckline. Nothing flamboyant but eye-catching all the same.
“How am I supposed to move in that?” I ask. “The train is ten yards long.”
Oraphia’s hands find my head and with a small laugh she turns my face forward.
“It’s two yards long, Your Majesty,” she corrects and I can hear the smile in her voice. “And it will be easier than you think. You’ll have Raevi, Leuna, and Kali to help you throughout the day.”
“Do not let the dress intimidate you, my queen,” one of the attendants on my left says. Her voice reminds me of a tinkling wind chime.
A creature with dark hair and darker skin paired with bright violet eyes steps into my view, offering a curtsy before continuing. “Lady Lilith was very attentive to your design preferences.”
I am neither surprised nor shocked Lilith had a leading hand in the creation of this dress. I remain still and silent, giving the blanketed mirror an undeserving flat glare.
“Lady Eve made sure of it,” Oraphia adds with a small laugh.
“Where is Eve?” I ask. I can’t have been the only one woken up this early.
“In her quarters getting ready,” Oraphia answers. “She’ll be escorting you to meet King Alaryc later on.” Her hand shoots past the side of my head in a gesture toward Raevi. “Raevi, the finishing piece please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
