“We can see you too. Welcome to the party,” Azo chirps, and then they both turn to me.
“All set, dragoness,” Pacey announces, and I look over just as the Healer steps back.
I didn’t even feel him working on the burn. My eyes snap down to the mended skin of my forearm, but before I can thank him, Pacey moves to stand with the other drakes. He says something to the Channeler in the olive green scale armor, but I can’t make out what before Nixy and Azo step in front of me and block my view.
“Let’s get started, shall we?” Nixy asks, and I fight the urge to look around her at the two drakes I can see whispering back and forth through the sheer projection of Nixy’s head.
“Are you excited for your big day?” Azo asks, practically buzzing with exhilaration.
“Ecstatic,” I droll as the human tugs me away from Karis and Farrow, toward the chair he set up earlier.
Nixy’s projector drone circles me with a peppy whir as I plop down in the chair. Azo immediately gets to work while Nixy guides him like she’s the artist but he’s the brush and paint. They toil together, chittering back and forth while I get hydration patches on my arm, my hair combed out and readied for the styler, and bites of breakfast between wearing the makeup machine with its long lasting dyes that will have me looking like a goddess come to life in no time flat. It’s chaotic, and impressive, and the next thing I know, Nixy and Azo flit back and marvel at whatever it is they’ve done to me.
No one hands me a mirror or asks my opinion, which is fine by me. I trust Nixy and Azo to make me look appropriately extravagant and fussy. I might even like it, who knows. There’s a lot to be said for being clean, fed, and clothed. I’m not wiping sand from unmentionable crevices or pretending dried meat is a delicacy. I still think dancing with strangers is a form of torture I could live without, but I’m curious about The Horde, about what it will be like to be around them.
“Are we ready for the dress?” Nixy asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
Her blue-hazel eyes are filled to the brim with eager anticipation. I look over at the floating rack, and instantly the butterflies in my stomach start to riot. The mystery dress feels like the final nail in my coffin, and yet it’s also the armor I desperately need to survive the night.
Please let it have lasers.
“Everyone out. The dragoness needs to get dressed,” Nixy barks with surprising authority.
The guards I don’t know glance over at Karis as though waiting for his order. He nods and then they abandon their posts around the room and file out.
“How long will you be?” Farrow asks Azo before he gives one last visual sweep of the room.
“Fifteen minutes, give or take,” Azo answers, and both Farrow and Karis nod before leaving.
I turn to Nixy to ask her about the garment bag that doesn’t look like it’s holding a dress and freeze. She has a finger held up to her lips while her eyes track something that Azo is doing behind me. Alarm kicks my heart into high gear, and I whirl to find the human quickly moving around the room and spraying something around the windows and the doors. He finishes and walks calmly over to the table where he picks up a small silver case.
Four marble-like devices rise out of his hand and then dart in four separate directions until they’re about ten feet away. Just as soon as they stop, a square security field buzzes into place, trapping me, Azo, and the projection of Nixy within its walls.
“What is going on?” I demand just as soon as Nixy drops her finger from her lips.
“You have exactly nine minutes,” she instructs cryptically.
“Nine minutes for what?” I ask, confused.
“Azo, mark the time now,” Nixy tells the human instead of answering me.
My eyes snap back and forth between Nixy’s projection and Azo, who starts pressing buttons on his com. Before I can repeat my question, the image of Nixy starts to flicker, and then suddenly it isn’t Ren’s little sister staring back at me from the drone, it’s Enslee.
My breath whooshes out of me at the sight of my twin. I told Nixy that I needed to get a message to my sister, but I never thought in a million years the wyvern would arrange for me to speak to Enslee directly. My throat and eyes fill with emotion. It’s so good to see her. I know she’s not really here, but even her projected presence momentarily lifts all of the worry and tension that serves as my constant companion these days.
Tears well in her eyes as she takes me in. “You look really good, little sister,” Enslee teases, but I feel every layer of emotion and distress woven in those six simple words.
“I always look good,” I joke back, though my voice is thick.
Enslee’s chuckle sounds strained, and all attempts at humor go flying out the window.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I ask, stepping closer to the drone as though I can walk right through the projection and into my sister’s arms.
“Hey, that’s my line,” Enslee counters while her light green gaze drinks me in. “I heard it’s your Naming Day today.”
My huff is derisive.
“You’ll have to drink a glass of champagne in my honor,” she tells me lightly, but it’s obvious she’s dodging my question, which just makes me even more wary.
