Curiosity winning out, her mother finally surreptitiously stole a peek at the garment bag only for her brows to raise in surprise. A small sound of wonder escaped her as her hands glided over the raised signature sewn onto the dark red garment bag. Still staring at the signature, her voice dropped to an almost reverent whisper.
“How in the realms did you acquire aPleurcreation? Is it vintage?”
Elysia replied airily with a wave of her fingers. “Called in a favor, gave a favor. You know how it goes.”
Kava’s most reclusive and renowned designer had not made a gown in years. Elysia did not blame the poor soul. His magic was in every stitch of every creation he’d ever made, but by the gods did he make beautiful gowns. He’d had no choice but to pretend his magic was gone after the Fall. No more magic, no more gowns.
She’d heard he wanted proper papers that would allow him to start over in one of the lands where magic still ran free, and she’d been more than happy to assist. For a charge, naturally. One divine gown to be worn at the Raven Ball, to be exact.
Georgia deftly worked the ties, gently opening the protective bag. She stared silently for a full minute before turning to Elysia with her eyes wide. “The cost?”
Elysia sat primly on the edge of the nearest armchair. “I haven't the faintest. Sent the bill right to the prince.”
Her mother gave her an approving smirk and reached to touch the fabric, but Elysia shot forward, pulling the dress away to safety. “Ah, ah, ah. No touching until the ball. This beauty will be locked away like the fine piece of art that it is until then.”
Georgia looked at her from the corner of her eye and moved to take a seat. She crossed her legs and folded her hands.
“Should I be expecting you to disappear again before then? You created quite the headache for your father and me.”
Elysia tied the garment bag up tight, picking it up like it was made of gold. “Highly unlikely, but now you have a brilliant story to tell everyone about where I was, and that’s what matters, isn’t it? That you have a story to tell? Have a lovely afternoon, Mother.” Her smile was sharp as glass.
She left her mother standing in a shroud of regret that she had raised two daughters every bit as conniving and dangerous as herself.
Elysia stood barefoot and undressed,staring at the garment bag. Her mother may have been put out by her disappearance, but she knew that the story of Elysia Parker securing a Pleur gown would be halfway across the court by now. Some nonsense story about her parents not wanting to ruin the surprise, but wishing to alleviate concern about their darling daughter.
Sir Larkspur swatted at the ties hanging down from the dark red garment bag. They’d moved back into her flat now that she was certain the prince wasn’t about to immediately turn her in for treason. Gage hadn’t loved it, but she needed space and the freedom to do what was needed without anyone squawking at her about safety.
Elysia looked between the cat and the dangling ties for all of a second before swiftly removing the garment bag. Anyone with a cat knew howthatwas going to end. Her armoire wasn’t quite tall enough for the floor length gown, but it was better than the dress becoming kitty ribbons. A solid knock struck her door just as she closed the armoire.
“Jessa, right on time,” she muttered, picking her way through the clothes and shoes strewn about her floor to the front door.
She unlatched the numerous locks trailing down the door and gave a shout for Jessa to come in. Padding back into the living room, she yelled over her shoulder. “This tincture better work like a charm because it smellsdisgusting. I don’t know how that old meela thinks I’m supposed to choke it down.”
Larkspur darted through her legs, almost tripping her as he shot by with a jovial mewl. Elysia grabbed hold of the closest chair, struggling to right herself. “Larky boy, what are you trying to do?”
As she got her feet back beneath her, a low chuckle hit her ears.
That motherf?—
The prince grinned like a fox and plucked Sir Larkspur up into a cuddle where the traitor purred lazily, rubbing his dark little face against the prince’s grown out stubble. “At least someone misses me.”
Elysia reached for her dagger only to swipe against bare skin.
The prince struggled to contain his laughter, chest shaking with the effort. “Missing something, Parker?” His eyes trailed pointedly over her body.
Embarrassment scorched up her chest and neck.
She was still walking around in her undergarments.
Unclothed. Unarmed.
And she’d quite literally unlocked her front door and let him in her home.
A boyish grin took over his face as he watched her struggle to regain any semblance of dignity.
Bastard.
She lifted her chin and strode away silently, her feet pounding loudly against the floor as if her ass was not firmly on display. Which it was. Snatching a dressing gown from her bedroom, she tied it on with haste. Dagger in hand, she stalked back out to the living room only to find him perched on the arm of a chair without a trace of apology on his face. The traitor Sir Larkspur was now draped peacefully over the prince’s shoulders, sound asleep, looking like a damn fur stole.
