“One of the perks of mating a demon,” she says, pulling back her sleeve enough to show the bright blue marking that encircles her wrist—the same color as the Dealmaker’s markings.
”You don’t need to worry about that, though. The only thing I’d recommend is to remember that you are in their realm now, not yours. You might find that things are done very differently here than what you’re used to. What might be scandalous in your village could be the norm here; what might be courtesy in your world could be an insult here. Keep an open mind, and you may be pleasantly surprised by your experience here.”
“I’ve already signed the contract,” I say, teasing a little. “You don’t have to convince me anymore.”
Serenity’s face flushes a shade of red only a few shades lighter than her hair. “Sorry, I can be…a lot,” she says, the enthusiasm draining from her voice.
“Don’t be sorry. I’m glad to know I’m not the only human in this world. I don’t know what I’m going into, so I appreciate the welcome.”
Serenity’s face splits into a smile so bright that I can’t help being infected with it too. “Wait until you see your dress.”
Serenity’s smile doesn’t falter for a moment the whole time she’s helping me into the foreign garment, adjusting the bits and bobs, and arranging my hair into a mess of braids held up with jeweled combs and pins. Jewels in my hair would be enough to raise my suspicions, but that would’ve required me to tear my focus from the dress.
Serenity certainly hadn’t been exaggerating when she told me how beautiful the gown was, but I still haven’t figured out why it’s onme. It’s not the simple cut of a housemaid’s garb, nor is it the rough wool I’m used to. It’s too fine, too soft, too…much.
Layers of gossamer fabric form the shape of a bodice that molds to my shape so well I can hardly feel it. The material is an odd, unplaceable color—a dusky purple at one angle, dark slate gray at another, and I even catch sheens of blue and gold. Sparkling beadwork leaves no part of the magnificent gown unadorned, catching the light like morning frost with every breath I take.
It must have taken a whole team of dressmakers weeks to hand-stitch the swirling starburst patterns, and there’s no way that sort of labor came without a high price. And how the gown fits me so well—the bodice boned and cinched to perfection—is another layer to the mystery. Even the cape—because of course there’s a matching cape to go with this elaborate design—falls like starlight spun into silk, sheer and shimmering, speckled with glass beads that shine like they’re lit from within.
“Quite the get-up for a scullery maid,” I say, simultaneously struggling to look at my reflection and unable to tear my eyes away.
Serenity’s forehead wrinkles with a frown. “You’re not going to—”
The door from the attached room bursts open, and the Dealmaker enters in a whirlwind of energy.
“I’m afraid time’s gotten away from us,” he says to Serenity, his wolfish tail flicking behind him.
“Already?” she asks, her frown deepening. “Aren’t there some things you’ve yet to explain?”
“I was just wondering what sort of role would require…this,” I say, only looking at the demon through the mirror, my gaze still fastened to the glittering gown. Maybe if I had my wits about me, I’d be able to tell if there’s something magically entrancing about the garment, or if I’m truly so simple to be left speechless by a bit of luxury. As it is, everything around me feels magical and dumbfounding, from the impossible number of stars above to the silk slippers Serenity’s helping me step into—the same shifting indigo-gold as the gown with delicate beaded leaves far too beautiful to be hidden under my skirts.
“This is hardly everyday attire,” Anumar chuckles; alone. His tail swishes again, and I sense an unspoken conversation happening between the mated couple. “Come along, I’ll explain as we walk.” He doesn’t wait to make sure either of us follow, leading the way with the utmost confidence that we will.
We do. I have to scramble to catch up with his long strides and only catch the end of his sentence. “—seal your contract. At The Presentation, you’ll meet with the demon you’ve been matched with, Xandril; it’s also a chance to build rapport withthe local community. Many of them have never seen a human in their lives—”
“Or only one,” Serenity chimes in with a cheeky smile.
Anumar chuckles, slowing down enough to slide his arm around her back, matching his strides to hers. They seem so effortlessly in sync in a way I didn’t know married couples could be.
There’s another extended silence that feels like a conversation I’m not privy to, when we finally reach the estate’s doors, stepping out into the glow of the fountain.
“Just remember that your contract only lasts until spring,” Serenity says, holding one of my hands in both of hers before she loses the inner battle and pulls me into a hug. “Winter doesn’t last forever,” she says, soft and close enough that I’m sure her mate doesn’t hear it over the fountain’s burbling.
I probably should be more concerned about that warning than I am. I’m not foolish enough to think I’m being whisked into a fairytale and made into a princess, but it’s hard to deny that this is a far cry better than anything that awaited me with the Judge. No matter what Serenity thinks she needs to prepare me for, the promise of a fancy party has a stubborn bubble of excitement rising in me. No one in my village, not even the Lord and Lady who took in a pair of orphaned siblings, is wealthy enough to be invited to the grand parties in the cities—not even the more modest fetes in the neighboring villages.
Which means as incredible as this is, I don’t know the first thing about etiquette. In this world or any other. What if I embarrass myself or the Dealmaker? What if the demon I’m matched with rejects me outright when they see how out of place I am?
While the rapidly multiplying doubts wrestle to pop that bubble of excitement, Serenity and Anumar are sharing a farewell kiss. Before I can ask what will happen to me if I’m immediately dismissed upon arrival, a misty blue fog grows around our ankles, quickly turning into a swirling cloud that blocks out the stars above and pulls the ground out from under me.
Chapter Five
Xandril
“Your Highness, have you had a chance to taste the thunderroot soup? The kitchen is waiting for your approval,” Morwen asks with a quick look to the table of neglected samples. She’s served the castle through a number of reigns, and her shrewd appraisal always makes me feel like the small one despite her barely reaching my waist.
“He is still deciding between floral options—” argues another staff member, stopping short when they, too, face the full brunt of Morwen’s stare.
There are half a dozen other people involved in arranging the ball that are waiting for similar choices from me, and I don’t have an answer for any of them. I couldn’t give less of a damn about flowers, and my stomach is too unsettled to think about appetizers. From the moment Anumar left my war room, I have done nothing but fret about this night. When I should have been studying reports from the border, I wondered what reach my bride would be from. When my mind should have been focused on strategy to keep the Wilds at bay, I dared to dream she might be from far enough away that she wouldn’t have heard the whispered rumors about my ascension to power.
