"Is there somewhere I can... refresh myself?" I ask, my voice hoarse.
With a nod, one of the handmaidens leads me to an alcove I hadn’t noticed before, where a surprisingly normal-looking washroom waits.
The fixtures, carved from the same black stone as the castle walls, seem cold and alien, yet the water that flows from them is crystal clear—a welcome, familiar contrast to the crimson sky and thick, oppressive air. I wash my face, savoring the cool relief, and steady myself, grateful for this small piece of normalcy.
When I return, I feel a heaviness in my limbs, the brief respite of sleep already slipping away as the air starts to wear on me again. Each breath takes more effort, like pulling in shards of glass.
The handmaidens waste no time in helping me into the dress, and when I see myself in the mirror, I hardly recognize my own reflection.
The plunge of the dress's neckline dives down past my belly button, stopping well above where is decent. Two slits up the side of the black fabric show off the lines of my legs and reveal my sharp hip bones. I had to forgo my panties, which makes me feel extra vulnerable and exposed. Modesty doesn’t seem to be a high priority to these beings.
The back skirts poof out around and behind me with voluminous waves. I'm not sure if physics on this plane are the same as in the human world, because the strapless dress rises up over either breast in pointed ends that stick up just past my collar bones. The backless dress fits my form perfectly, but I don't understand how it doesn't fall right off me.
The women did my hair in an updo that creates two false horns from the top of my head. They decorate them with dripping jewels of reds and blacks. The black lipstick and eye makeup is dramatic to say the least. My green eyes are even more luminous and bright against my pale skin. Now I fit right in among the humanoids here. I only need a set of claws, demonic eyes, or some real horns
It's so different from the dress I'm used to, but something about it feels... right. Like I'm stepping into a part of myself that was always meant to be. Like a recurring dream I know I am to follow the events of night after night.
One of the handmaidens draws a surprisingly human finger over the fractal birthmark that breaks apart repeatedly as it crawls down my left neck and shoulder to the top of my breast. "What is this?"
While breathing has remained a consistent struggle, the throb in my birthmark has dropped to a consistent but low-level pulse. It looks a bright red against my pale exposed decolletage.
"It's a birthmark," I say, wiggling away from her touch. Her skin feels waxy and cold. It unsettles me. Or maybe it's how her big black eyes seem to peel the layers of me away as she looks at me. It's as if one went to scrutinize a bug under a microscope and found it staring unerringly back.
"It is time," the other interrupts.
They open the doors and Shadow emerges from where he was waiting along the wall. When he sees me, he goes completely still.
I quirk a nervous smile at him, my tummy full of butterflies.
"How do I look?" I ask, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
His white eyes flash red a moment, and I don't know what to make of it.
"Like a queen," he says flatly, giving me no clue as to how he feels.
Disappointment digs blunt fingers into my gut and clenches.
What happened to he won’t let me leave?
I had started to feel guilty over making him kneel. Over making him service me like he's nothing and I'm everything.
But sick satisfaction yawns in me when I recall his blatant anger, his despair when I told him he could never have me again.
His cold indifference is a lie.
To make a point of it, I look down with false innocent discovery. "Oh, I don’t think I’m adjusted right."
I then reach into my top and pull my tits up, one handful at a time until they are swells against the tight fabric.
Shadow tentacles snap loudly and his eyes turn red. I give him a demure, yet wicked smile and turn on my heel.
Fuck you very much.
My teeth grit and grind. I don’t need his approval anyway. He’s a liar and a manipulator like everyone else.
I can do that too.
I lift my chin and turn, with a sweep of my skirts and follow the handmaidens. They lead me to the top of a staircase that leads to the obsidian ballroom I'd walked through earlier.
