As I stepped closer to inspect the gown, I saw a note pinned to the sweetheart neckline. It was written in long, elegant strokes.
Merry Christmas, my treasure.
Meet me in the throne room, and wear this.
– B
Simple and to the point, but it had my mind cartwheeling. It made sense for him to want to see me before the ball, since we still had no tree to speak of. As far as I knew, there were still two items needed for the ritual.
A knock at the door ripped me out of my daydream, and I glanced over to see Holga slipping into the room. Her long gray hair—or what remained of it—was pinned into a bun, and I frowned when I noted what she was wearing. A floor-length dress, easily the fanciest thing I’d ever seen my maid wear.
And it was red.Lucky.
The old witch’s eyeless sockets landed on me, and she curtseyed.
“Good Morning, and a most happy Yule to you, Your Highness,” she said. “I’ve come to help get you bathed and dressed for an audience with the Lord. No need to rush, however. He told us we may take our time.”
With the anticipation building in my veins, I didn’t want to take my time. Hells, I’d go down to the ballroom in my nightgown for the ritual, if it wasn’t for the fact that guests would likely arrive for the ball shortly after.
“Fine,” I groaned, though I wasn’t really annoyed. A warm bath would probably do my sore asscheeks some good.
I headed for the bathroom where a clawfoot tub awaited, my skeleton maid following on my heels.
After a bath, Holga helped me into the mountain of white fabric Belial had left for me, cinching the waist tight enough to make me gasp.
“Can we… let it out… a bit?” I choked out before she obliged.
Then she set to work braiding my hair, twisting it into a stunning updo. By the time she was finished, I hated the white dress a little less.
Though it still would look better in red.
I finished off the ensemble with a garter belt I had recently tasked the castle tailor with making, especially for the Christmas ball. It was a surprise for my mate. As I tugged it on, a wicked thought occurred to me. There was a strong chance that the ritual would be sexual in nature, so why not spice up the garter reveal?
My line of sight dropped to the dagger I kept on my vanity and, before the idea fully formed, I was already lifting my dress and slipping it beneath my garter.
“Okay. Ready,” I whispered to myself through a coy smile as I caught my reflection in the oval vanity mirror. Belial wasn’t the only one with secrets today.
The doors to the throne room gaped open like windows into a gothic Christmas wonderland, and I slowly drank in all the decor as I stepped inside. Decaying tinsel hung from the bone chandeliers overhead, and enormous bouquet arrangements of dead branches, with withered blooms and berries, sat as centerpieces for the refreshment tables.
Deep burgundy and black fabric was draped elegantly along the walls and ceiling, matching the bloody River Styx that carved a path through the marble floor in front of the thrones toward the end of the hall.
Belial's menacing throne of bones stood in all its macabre grandeur above the red river, accompanied by my slightly smaller one. The major difference between the two was that mine was adorned with nine severed heads, a present from the demon king himself.
Belial, dressed in a black suit that might have been in style some two hundred years ago, was waiting for me in front of the thrones. He also wore his mask, but in addition to that, he had Christmas decorations hung from his antlers like silver bells and berries native to Limbo.
Even though we were alone, it felt like dozens of eyes were on me as I walked my way down the center of the long hall. Tonight, the space would be filled with every kind of spirit, skeleton, and ghoul this realm had to offer. They'd be here to witness something never before seen in Limbo. The thought sent shivers down my spine as my excitement kicked up a notch, and I hurried toward my demon king.
“You wore the dress I chose,” he noted when I was within earshot. I could hear the surprise in his voice.
I shrugged. “Well I couldn't come naked.”
“I wouldn’t have complained if you had. Though, you know how possessive I am. If any of our guests were to look at you wrong, I’d pluck out their eyes and serve them with the hors d’oeuvres. And something tells me that doesn’t exactly match your mortal Christmas traditions.”
“Not exactly, but I’m all for making new ones too,” I grinned.
His black mask evaporated, revealing a cocky smirk. “But you really do look ravishing in white.”
“You couldn't have picked something more Christmasy? Like red?”
