I don’t look terrible. I look like someone else.
I run my fingers over my hair. “How did you…” I trail off in wonder. Max smiles haughtily.
“Girl, before you leave, I’ll teach you not only to take care of those waves, but to worship their very existence.” She fluffs up her own shiny coils in demonstration and I smile shyly.
She tosses me a wad of silky fabric. “Put this on.”
I stare at it dumbly. “What is it?”
“A dress,” she answers with an impatient roll of her eyes. She’s painted her own lips a crimson red and her brown eyes shine against the emerald fabric of her slinky dress. The bodice is beaded, and cutouts frame her hips, her dark velvet skin shimmering underneath. She looks ruthlessly beautiful, like an ancient warrior goddess and I have to remind myself not to stare.
“One of yours?” I ask dubiously. I need to play a part in order not to stand out at tonight’s celebration, but I don’t think I have the courage to dress like Max. It’s too far from myself; even whoever I am outside of Similis.
Max laughs. “As if I’d trust a Lemming to pull this off,” she says with an elaborate wave toward her own outfit. I sigh in relief. “Shaw got it for you this morning.”
Surprise laces through me. Is that what Shaw was doing before he encountered the slavers? Buying me a dress? I try to imagine Shaw in a dressmaker’s shop and the image is enough to elicit a short, surprised giggle.
I take the dress and the soft fabric unfurls in my hands. It’s a beautiful light green, a color reminiscent of the cliff pond. Will Shaw think of it when he sees the dress once more? Will he remember the way my clothes clung to me, and my laughter rang out across the water?
My skin flushes at the thought and I slip hurriedly out of the robe, intending to pull the dress on without romanticizing it further when the door to Max’s room bursts open. I yelp in surprise, shielding what parts of myself I can manage with my hands as Calloway saunters in. He laughs as he takes note of the incensed look on my face.
“Sorry, I keep forgetting your Similian sense of propriety,” he says with a flourishing bow that I gather isn’t at all serious. “But you can keep hold of your maidenhood, that sort of thing doesn’t interest me.”
I stare at him in bewilderment, trying to determine the best way to extricate myself from the situation without exposing more skin. If I move my arms to redon the dressing gown,everythingwill be on display.
Max hasn’t even spared a look for the door, instead intensely focusing on applying kohl to the lids of her eyes. “What do you want, Cal?” she asks, finishing off the kohl and poking jewels through her ears. To me, with a tone of intense boredom, she says, “he’s not attracted to women.”
I open my mouth, now realizing what Cal meant by not being interested, but immediately close it. It would be best to wait until I’m fully clothed and have something sensible to say in response.
Cal laughs again at my obvious discomfort and makes a show of turning toward the wall. “I’ll count to ten,” he informs me cheerfully, “though I assure you, even Similians have nothing new.”
Gratefully, I slip the dress over my head and hurriedly shimmy it over my hips. It’s more modest than anything Max has donned thus far, but it’s a far cry from the khaki jumpsuit I’m used to. The neckline is high, and the silhouette is fitted with long, belled sleeves. Draped silk gathers at my waist, leaving my back mostly exposed and a long slit runs up my thigh. The fabric is plain, but impossibly beautiful and for a moment, all I can do is stare down at it.
“Rhonwen sent me to see how much longer until you’re ready. The skiffs are waiting,” Calloway says to the wall, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He makes a striking figure in his black dress pants and gray tunic, all tailored to accentuate his lanky frame.
“You can turn around now,” I mumble, running my hands across the fabric of the dress self-consciously.
Cal’s eyes light on me. “You look lovely, darling,” he says with a grin. I grin back awkwardly. “And well done, Max, on making her look Ferusian but not garishly over the top like you insist on dressing.”
Max smacks Cal’s arm, but she beams, as if ‘over the top’ is the highest of compliments.
I glance at myself in the mirror and my chest tightens. What would Easton make of me now, so far away from the girl I was sitting with him in our quarterage? Would he even recognize me? Dress and makeup aside; would he recognize eyes that no longer sweep to the floor, pretending to submit? Or the mouth that opens when it wishes, that is heard when it speaks? The thought unsettles me, and I look away from my reflection quickly.
“Shall I be your proper escort?” Cal teases, offering Max and I each an elbow.
“I suspect you’ve never been a proper anything in your life, Cal,” I tell him with a grin.
Calloway guffaws loudly and Max looks wickedly delighted as we make our way down the stairs. “She might be on to us, Cal,” Max laughs.
“There’s no one better suited to give her a thorough Dark World education in the enjoyment of debauchery than we are.”
I laugh, the sound a ballooning warmth in my chest. It is like the water of the cliff pond, refreshing and weightless.
As we circle down the last staircase, my smile fades. All the air vacates the room as my eyes land on the lone figure waiting in the foyer. His back is to us, and with his sweep of dark hair, he appears made of shadows against the crisp, white marble. Shaw.
He turns, nodding in acknowledgement to Max and Cal, but when his eyes find mine, they lock there. I grip Cal’s arm to keep from stumbling down the remaining stairs. I’ve never given much thought to being attractive—vanity is not a quality much doted upon in Similis—but as Shaw’s eyes travel downward, skimming over my hips and the slice of bare skin that peeks from the slit of the dress, I understand there is a power to it. His eyes are magnetic, warming every inch of me as they trail from head to toe and images of his hands on my skin and his lips against mine race through my mind.
He is clad in a navy pair of trousers and a crisp white tunic that contrasts beautifully with the deep caramel of his skin. His hair is swept casually across his forehead and a small smile plays at the corner of his lips.
