Selene drops the dress over the back of a chair and crosses to the window, peeking out. “Yeah. That would be tonight’s spectacle.”
I frown. “Spectacle?”
She gives me a crooked smile. “Party. Celebration. Meeting. Depends who you ask. Around here, any excuse is a good excuse to bring out the crystal and the really good vodka.”
My stomach twists again. “They’re having a party while I’m locked in here.”
“Of course,” Selene says. “You’re new, not the main event.”
Her tone is dry enough that I almost laugh. Almost.
I glance at the dress again. “And that is for…what, exactly?”
She turns back to me, studying my face. “Irina wants you downstairs. Cleaned up. Presentable.”
“Like what?” I say. “A guest or a prop?”
Selene’s mouth twitches. “Honestly? Bit of both.”
Lily tucks her face into my neck, little hands stroking my collar. I rub her back automatically, trying to process all of this.
“I don’t want to go,” I say, quieter now.
Selene sighs, pushes off the window. “I know. But you should.” She pulls the curtains a little tighter, like she’s trying to keep the night and all its people at arm’s length. “Okay,” she says, clapping her hands once. “Off with the hostage clothes.”
I look down at myself, at my stretched-out T-shirt, leggings that have seen better days, a smear of something that’s probably baby food on the hem.
“Hey,” I mutter. “These have sentimental value.”
“Yeah,” she says. “They say ‘please underestimate me’ in four languages.”
I almost smile.
I set Lily down on the bed. She immediately flops on her belly and starts smacking the duvet with her palms, humming to herself. She’s bounced back faster than I have.
“Stay where I can see you, okay?” I tell her.
“Okay, Mama,” she parrots.
I change in the bathroom with the door half-open so I can still see my daughter. The dress slips on easier than I expect. It’s soft, a deep green that brings out the color in my eyes, with a neckline that’s flattering without making me feel exposed. When I come out, Selene is sitting cross-legged on the floor, letting Lily wrap a sock around her wrist like a bracelet.
“Ta-da,” Selene says when she sees me. “See? Not a prop. A problem. There’s a difference.”
I smooth my hands down the fabric, feeling strange. “It’s…nice.”
Selene stands and steps close, reaching for my hair. “You mind?”
I shake my head.
She gathers my hair up, twists it, lets it fall again. “Let’s not overdo it. They already know you’re here. No point making you look like you tried.”
In the mirror, I watch her work quickly—fingers deft, pulling a few strands loose around my face. She gives me a light touch of makeup from a small pouch she’s smuggled in—a little concealer under my eyes, a bit of color on my lips, nothing that makes me feel like a stranger.
When she’s done, she steps back and studies me. “Good. You look like yourself, just…harder to ignore.”
I pick Lily up again. She pats my shoulder, then plays with the fabric of the dress like it’s a new toy.
“I’m still locked in a house with people who broke my door down,” I say.
