“It’s calledeat your heart out red.” Her eyes flicker up to mine in the mirror with a sardonic smile.
“Really? I thought it was calledfuck you, Wyneth red.”
She barks a loud laugh and comes around to face me, leaning against the vanity.
“Be my date tonight?” she asks, her slender shoulders sinking in.
“Obviously,” I answer with a smile. In the mirror, I see Igrid laying out a garment on the bed. Pulling my robe tighter, I move closer to examine it.
“I had it made for tonight,” Igrid says, excitement brimming on her face. “Actually, I had a whole collection made for the next four nights.”
I run my fingers over the silky black piece that looks more like a scrap of fabric than a dress.
“I thought it would suit you.”
“Igrid.” I give her hand a grateful squeeze. “Thank you.”
The dress is strappy and slinky, clinging to my every curve like a second skin. A choker made of thick silver chain splits off into two panels of glossy black material that barely covers my breasts, leaving a long slit of exposed skin down the center of my chest. The breast panels form a downward “v” and knot together below my navel, where the skirt tapers out to rest on my hips. My entire back is naked down to my tailbone.
“So is the theme of the party skin?” I assess myself in the mirror. I have more flesh on display than I have covered.
“The theme is gluttony and extravagance. King’s Fair makes every ball you’ve been to so far at the castle look like a backwater revelry,” Mar says.
I sit on the bed and lace up the ties of my strappy heels, the scandalous slit parting over my thigh in the process. I smooth the dress and wiggle over to the mirror.
“Nowthat”—Marideth stands behind me, hands on my shoulders as she eyes me in the mirror—“iseat your heart out, set it on fire, and chop it up into tiny pieces, black.”
I break into a wide grin. I look hot.
Igrid passes me a pair of dangly earrings and slides two silver cuffs onto my wrists. The final touch is a thin metal circlet around my forehead. It makes me look exotic and sensual.
Zadyn knocks on the door, and my mouth almost drops as he appears, pushing his wet hair back off his face. A single rivulet streams down the side of his chiseled jawline, and I bite my lip instinctively. I drink in his bare arms, braced on the doorframe, the low-cut leather vest that hugs his well-defined chest, and the tight black pants tucked into high black boots.
Zadyn lookssexy.
I burst into laughter at the thought, clapping my hand over my mouth.
“Is it too much?” He raises an eyebrow and gestures to his outfit. “Igrid picked it out—I feel a little ridiculous.”
Igrid beams from behind us, lips pressed together to suppress the girlish smile that Mar and I also share.
“It’s just enough,” Marideth says suggestively. Zadyn’s eyes zero in on me in my scrap of fabric. His mouth parts slightly.
“Nice…dress?” His brow ticks up. Marideth shakes my shoulders at him.
“Doesn’t she look delicious?” she says wickedly. Zadyn’s eyes flicker to the ground, those long lashes casting shadows down his cheeks. When he lifts them again, they twinkle a touch brighter.
“One last thing.” Igrid dips her finger into a small glass tub and dabs a pigmented liquid onto my lips. I look into the mirror at my strong, sun-kissed body—the glamoured fae ears, the daring dress, and the dramatic lip stain. I turn to Mar and link my arm through hers.
“Come on. I want to dance.”
I hearthe drums long before we reach the doors of the Grand Hall. At every other ball, the music was classical and cultured to match the composed, demure choreography. Tonight, there are no set steps. A mass of uninhibited bodies entangle on the dance floor, writhing languidly in time to the steady rhythm. The effect is hypnotic. Primal. Ancient.
The entire space is bathed in a hazy, dark red glow, creating an intimate, sensual ambiance. Fixtures of blood red rubies dangle over the crowded dance floor. A mild breeze trickles in through the open patio doors, setting the red gossamer curtains aflutter. Silk dancers and aerialists twist and twirl overhead, dressed in nothing but gold paint. They dangle from ivy covered hoops and glide through the air on swings.
Taking in the swarm of party guests, I realize that Igrid’s wardrobe choices were more than appropriate. My outfit is modest compared to the sea of skin and lace and gold dust surrounding me.
We find most of our friends on the patio as the sun sets over a blazing red sky. The princess is dressed as the angel to my dark, sensual devil. Her slender silhouette is on display beneath a low-cut, white gossamer shift, belted with a delicate gold chain around the waist.
