I was washed, scrubbed, plucked, and stars know what else. After what felt like an eternity, the thick, luxurious cream that coated my hair from the onset was rinsed out, and I was finally free to leave the tub.
A woman by the name of Artinia—Arti, for short—brushed my hair with some sort of contraption that apparently helped it dry faster. Once done, I ran my hands through my hair. I couldn’t resist savoring the silken strands flowing between my fingers and did it again. The softness, the scent—stars, it was beyond pleasing. I supposed that with the fae’s heightened senses, the minutiae mattered.
I winced as Arti pulled my hair into a tidy section above my head before giving it a trim, unearthing the unevenness of my previous attempts. It took her an hour to finish, but it was worth every second.
My hair bounced as I swayed my head to each side, exploring the new locks. Shiny, soft, and flowing, my hair now had a life of its own. Just as my fingers were about to sink in again, a sharp pain shot through them as the heavy side of a wooden comb slapped me.
“Ouch, what was that for?”
Alejandro wagged his finger at me. “Don’t touch my masterpiece.”
I rolled my eyes at him and rubbed the sting away.
Arti held back a laugh as she placed delicate jars of various colors on the vanity. Risking another thwomp, I picked one up to inspect it. Its deep-violet color shimmered as the loose powder shifted within its confines.
Watching my curiosity, Arti said, “It’s makeup.”
“Makeup?”
“Darling, have you been living under a rock your whole life. Maaaaaakeu—p,” Alejandro said, in a way only he could—popping theploud enough for me to pull away slightly. “You know what women use to make themselves beeee-utiful? And some men, of course.”
My blank stare must have been answer enough.
“Stars, you’re just so cute,” he said as he pinched my cheek, and I couldn’t even be offended.
In the canvas of dusk’s gentle hues, I beheld a stranger’s reflection staring back at me in the mirror. Her hair flowed down in soft waves, the tips tickling her exposed back just below where her undergarment should be. She looked older—not in an aged way, but regal, mature. Like a woman.
Her lips were painted a soft pink and caught the fading light with their slight gloss. The color paired well with the stunning dress. Its formfitting white lace bodice caressed her striking curves, while the deep-V neckline plunged to the bottom of her sternum, her décolletage fully on display. But the viewer’s attention would be drawn to the pink diamond adorning her bare skin, teasingly resting between the soft mounds of her hidden breasts.
All modesty was forfeit, as the silky softness of her ivory skin was the unsung hero in the back. Her spine forced the eyes to travel down to the top of the skirt, which would have been deemed inappropriate if it were even a fraction lower. The textured pattern accentuated her body perfectly—my body. Those were my curves the skirt was draping from.
The skirt’s familiar material had more fluidity to it than I was accustomed to. The small amount of trailing fabric made the dress come to life as I swayed from side to side, feeling it out. Alejandrowas a master, and I knew his art would paint the dance floor with my every move.
I stepped closer to the mirror, taking in the artistry of themaaaaaakeu—p. My eyes were traced with black and accentuated with a smoky gray. Somehow, they’d added black onto my eyelashes. They were mine, but longer, darker, thicker, and feathering below my eyebrows. I took in a sharp breath, noticing then that my eyes were a deep, rich blue.
I stepped back. “What did you do to my eyes?”
“Beautified them, of course,” Alejandro said.
“But…you made them blue, how?”
“Darling, it’s very rare that I can tweak the makeup and the eyes decide to play along. In the choice between green and blue, I felt blue would suit you best tonight, for this look. They are more striking against the skirt’s dusty pink, no?”
He put his hands over my eyelids, and my eyes went back to their normal green. I blinked a couple of times. He took his hands away. Damn it, he was right. The deep blue that now stared back at me was like the last piece of a puzzle being pressed into place.
He smiled triumphantly and took in his masterpiece,me, one more time.
“You ready, my wide-eyed willow?” he asked.
I clasped his hand in mine; it was all I could muster.
“Right,” he said, releasing my grip and clapping his hands together. “Well, my work is done here, and you have someplace to be, so hurry, hurry your cute little booty, my little willow. The king awaits.”
As I walked down the hallway, a flutter filled my chest. Nerves, but not the kind that’d stolen sleep from me the night before.
The timeless trio stood together in the foyer at the bottom of the grand staircase, looking strikingly handsome in their chosen finery. Their casual stances spoke to their relaxed friendship, which I’d witnessed from them countless times before.
Alejandro made a small sound from behind me—no doubt onpurpose. The three men casually glanced toward the noise, then readjusted when they saw me.
