I knew it was coming, but I didn’t even think about how I’d be in the thick of things or how that would impact my plans. Then again, it might create the perfect amount of chaos I need to really search and spy.
I look around at the drakes and then back to the clothes Fenox and I are standing next to. “Alright, Nixy, tell me all the drama while transforming my caterpillar ass into a butterfly.”
Fenox chuckles, and with a nod and a determined furrow in her brow, she starts pulling things from the racks and shelves.
“If said transformation into a butterfly could include hidden armor, plenty of places for weapons, and the ability to move without feeling like my outfit is trying to kill me, that would be great,” I add, trying not to wince at some of the items she adds to the growing pile in her arms.
“Ah,” Nixy exclaims. “One of those armor-winged, weapon-toting, camouflaging species of butterflies. Got it.”
I smile. “Exactly. I think they’re from the genus Fuck Around and Find Out.”
A snort sneaks out of Fenox, and she shakes her head. Her blue-hazel eyes glitter with mirth, and I find myself feeling a flicker of hope.
“Let’s get you out of that horrid dress then and see if we can give you wings,” Nixy teases as she looks me up and down, one eyebrow raised in obvious judgment. “May the Source bless us with a miracle. You’re going to need one to survive the Noctis brothers.”
I laugh and offer her a Cheshire grin. “Wrong, they’re going to need one to survive me.”
Chapter 20
“A NICE PURPLE WOULD LOOK INCREDIBLE with your hair, or even green if you wanted to make your eyes really pop,” Azo encourages.
I spin on the platform that Nixy summoned from the ground with a touch of a button, and take in my reflection in the mirrors that shimmered into place on the opposite wall.
“No, I like gray,” I tell the human…again. “It really is my favorite color, and this is the perfect shade.”
Azo sighs and, with a shake of his head, concedes his loss. Nixy’s smile grows wider as she circles me, eyeing her selections and checking for anything that requires any last-minute adjusting.
“Grab that one pair of lace-up boots in the back cupboard next to the headpieces,” she orders Azo.
“Ooh, the thigh highs?” he questions, a twinkle of excitement once again igniting in his gaze. “Do you want a heel or no heel?”
“No heels,” I interject.
“The thick-soled ones,” Nixy tells him before she starts orbiting me again.
“Enough. I’m as posh and polished as I’m going to get today,” I grump, rounding on the wyvern. “You can’t hold me hostage forever.”
“Fine, fine, but are you sure you don’t want to wear any jewelry? I really think a necklace would be per—”
“Unless it’s a fang breaker, no. Now, can I get down?”
An exasperated huff slips out of Ren’s little sister, and I hear several of the drakes still spread around the room stifling their laughter.
“Wait for the shoes and then you’re free, and you don’t need to worry about vampires here, dragoness.”
“We’ve been telling her,” Ogdan grumbles, and I lob a snarky glare his way.
“I’m going to hate myself for even asking, but do you like it? Did I accomplish what I said I would?” Nixy probes.
I turn back to my reflection and run my hands down the dove gray corset that molds perfectly to my torso. It has a flouncy little peplum flare at my hips, and the top cups the undersides of my breasts—which are looking better than ever thanks to a bra that somehow sticks to your tits, lifting and securing them until you push a magic little button on the side to take it off.
Fenox put the corset on top of a silky, off-the-shoulder, baggy yet structured top that’s the same shade of gray as the rest of the outfit. But my favorite part is the buttery-soft, reinforced armor pants I’m wearing that fit me like a second skin.
The outfit is exactly what Nixy said it would be, functional and fashionable. She sat me under a machine that straightened my hair until it was sleek and gleaming. Then she pressed a mask to my face that darkened my brows and lashes, and made my skin look smooth and flawless, before it pinkened my cheeks and deepened the color of my lips. It’s not makeup but some kind of dye that only has to be applied every few weeks. I look beautiful, filthy rich, and snooty, but in ayou don’t want to fuck with mekind of way.
Nixy is a genius.
I find her blue-hazel eyes in the mirror and give her a warm genuine smile, the kind that makes my solitary dimple appear.
