“Here are some of the less formal options, my lady.”
I don’t bother to correct her this time. My eyes skip over the long, flowing skirts and shimmery materials.
“These are less formal?” I laugh. Pertha lays them out on the bed as Zadyn enters the room, his caramel-colored hair still glistening from his own bath. He pushes the wet strands from his face and locks eyes with me.
He looks good. Clean and fresh and inhumanly handsome in a close-cut brown jacket over a cream-colored tunic, dark pants, and boots that reach past his calves. He approaches the bed with the laid-out dress options.
“Help. I’m not used to these clothes,” I tell him, toying with the frills on a baby pink number. “Fae wear this stuff every day?”
“High Fae in the king’s court, yes,” he says with an apologetic look at Pertha, who seems uninterested.
“Well, I’m a witch, so do you guys have any denim?”
Zadyn rolls his eyes and moves past me to select one of the dresses from the bed. He holds it up to my chest, tilting his head as he studies me methodically.
“This one. It’s the least feminine.”
“Uh, alright,” I say incredulously. Pertha moves to the wardrobe to fetch a pair of heeled boots as Zadyn lowers his voice and explains, “You’re a Blackblood. You don’t want to go there in pastels and ruffles. No one will take you seriously. Something more subdued, more mature, is better.”
The dress is a deep, rich eggplant shade. It’s simple, compared to the frills of the others. Clean lines, fitted long sleeves—mature. Not girlish at all.
I begin to undo my robe, and Zadyn’s hand flies to shield his eyes.
“A little warning.” He stalks away to sit on the window seat with his back to me.
“Oh, relax. You’ve seen it all before,Annie. Spring break, Panama City.”
“I didn’t see anything. We were in the water,” he grumbles, staring out the window at the frosted mountains beyond the glass.
“Did you like having a woman’s body? I’m sure the boobs were a fun little bonus.”
He groans, turning beat red. “Can we not, please?”
“Let me have my fun! I’m just beginning to come to terms with the fact that my best girl friend was actually a guy all along. The same girl friend who I skinny-dipped with on morethan one occasion. Oh, and then there was that time we played truth or dare at the soccer team’s party when we had to?—”
“Serena.” The warning in his voice cuts me off, but I see the flush of red creeping up his tan neck. I can’t help but chuckle at how easily embarrassed he is.
Pertha slides the gown over my head and begins to fiddle with the laces of the bodice. The dress fits me like a glove, hugging my arms, chest, and waist. The square-cut neck is modest, but sensual somehow, showcasing the length of my throat and the line of my clavicle. Pertha slips my middle fingers through the little loops at the end of each sleeve, then ushers me to the vanity to comb through my damp hair.
“I can do it, Pertha. Thank you.” Taking the comb from her, I begin to run it through my ends. She curtsies lightly and exits the room.
“I don’t suppose you have anything like texture spray in your strange little fae world?”
Zadyn barks a laugh, his arm dangling over his drawn-up knee.
“It’ll never dry in time for this meeting. I’m going to go in there dripping like a wet dog.”
He snaps his fingers once and I gape at my perfectly dried waves in the mirror.
“Neat trick,” I say in wonder. “Can you touch up my highlights, too?”
“Don’t push it,” he warns mildly.
On the vanity is an assortment of cosmetics in little glass tubs and bottles. I dust some pink over my cheeks and dab my lips with a red-tinted lip stain, blotting them together in the mirror. Once I lace up my boots, I stand with my arms outstretched and give a quick twirl.
“How do I look?” I ask. “Fit for a meeting with dear old dad?”
Placing his feet on the ground, Zadyn turns to examine me.
