Valentine snorts and couples his perfectly manicured hands. “Not what I can do but what I have done. Follow me.”
“Arden!” I elbow her in the arm and gesture for her to put her phone away.
“It’s Edmund. We’re just making plans for dinner. I’m supposed to meet his mom,” she whispers as she falls into step behind Valentine.
I close my eyes for a beat. I’ve put off this conversation far too long. “About that, there’s something I need to tell you—”
“Here we are,” Valentine says, gesturing toward three chairs as music starts to play. I lower myself into one of them. “We’ll start with our sweet Arden. My designers and I stayed up all night preparing three prototypes for you. Come in, girls.”
Three gorgeous young pixies stride into the room, only they’ve used their illusion to make themselves look exactly like Arden. They approach, turn, walk away. One is in a mermaid gown designed to give the impression of a golden toga, another in a dress with bell sleeves and lace that belongs on an eighteenth-century British queen, and the third wears a delicate, sleeveless wrap dress cinched at the waist by a thick band of gold metal. Two gold bracers cover her forearms, and an ornate golden mask depicting leaves and branches with two golden stag horns rises from her temples. A coordinating bow and quiver of arrows completes the outfit.
Valentine gestures proudly at the three. “I give you Persephone, Queen Anne of the humans, and, my personal favorite, Artemis, goddess of the hunt.”
“Holy crap,” Arden says softly. “Is that really what I look like from behind?”
I chuckle. “Yes, and everyone should be so lucky. What do you think?”
She stares, open mouthed, at each model. “I can’t stop looking at Artemis. Can I try it on?”
Valentine makes a show of taking her hand and the hand of the Artemis model and leading them both to a set of changing rooms. They disappear inside.
“I love when my patrons are so easily suited,” Valentine says. “Now, Ms. Larkspur, you were a bit more difficult. I wanted to capture the femininity of your pixie blood but also the inner fire and courage that allowed you to survive so long outside our world.” He claps his hands, and I watch three more models walk into the room. They look exactly like me, and I suddenly understand why Arden found this unsettling.
The first outfit is made to resemble armor but in a formfitting dress. It comes with a helmetlike mask with wings along the side. “For you, to fortify you against what promises to be a trying evening, I give you a Valkyrie.”
“Oooh,” Eva says. “You could be a warrior.”
“I don’t feel like a warrior,” I say honestly.
The next model strides forward, dressed in another toga-like dress with a mask to make her look like an owl. Valentine spreads his hands. “Athena, goddess of wisdom.”
I smile. It is beautiful but not really me.
The next model takes my breath away. The lining of the strapless princess dress is midnight-blue silk, but it’s covered in a layer of tulle embroidered with tiny cascading gold stars, each with a tiny diamond sewn into its center. An asymmetrical, gold filigree laser-cut mask decorated with diamonds perches delicately on the nose of the model. But the best part of the ensemble is the crown of dark crystals on her head, illuminated by hidden lights.
“Oh,” I say, hand splaying across my chest. “That’s beautiful.”
Eva gapes. “Valentine, you have outdone yourself.”
“Titania, Shakespeare’s queen of fairies, here displaying her rule over the stars. I believe it will suit you.”
I stand. “I’d like to try it.”
Valentine’s smile lights up the room. Twenty minutes later, Arden and I stand on a small platform in front of a large three-way mirror, expertly pinned into our dresses and assessing our new looks.
“What do you think?” I ask Arden. She is a convincing goddess, the highlights in her auburn hair drawn out by the gold metal mask.
“I love it. But Mom, you look stunning. I still can’t believe you and Seven are back together again, but any man alive would stop in his tracks if he saw you.”
I smile at her. I’ve spent a little luck to make my hair darker and my teeth whiter to complete the look, but honestly, the dress itself is so flattering I don’t have to do much.
“The dress is designed to accommodate your wings,” Valentine says. “I confess, I’ve rarely had opportunity to design for a pixie, but I am pleased with the results.”
I pivot on my gold stilettos and smile down at Eva. “What do you think?”
“I think fifty percent of the attendees at the Gilded Gala are going to be hot and bothered by the two of you, and the other fifty percent are going to have a jealous meltdown. Youmusthave that dress, Sophia.”
I release a deep breath and look toward Valentine. “How much do I owe you?” I’m sure I can’t afford these dresses, but maybe I can rent them for the night.
