But instead of clarifying, she claps her hands on her thighs. “And we can go buy new dresses! It’ll be so nice to wear something other than these drab uniforms for once.”
My palms grow clammy at the thought of an outing with only her. Without Reid around, I’ll have to keep up with conversation all by myself. So I give the first excuse to come to mind. “It seems wasteful to buy a new dress only for one night.”
“Oh, it is,” Reid says. “That’s why they make them quickly and sell them for cheap. Which is great for when everyone rips them off in the throes of passion when they get back to their rooms.”
“What?” My eyes widen as my stomach drops.
“Don’t act so scandalized. What’d you expect after a night of drinking and dancing, in a school packed with young people? This isn’t high society with its arranged marriages and debutante balls.”
Alexis leans toward me conspiratorially. “They say the effect incanting has that drains all the color also drains any life from our wombs. So we have nothing to worry about!”
That’s disturbing.Though, now that I think of it, that could be why I don’t have any siblings, knowinghow much my father incants. And it’s not the sort of topic my tutors would’ve brought up.
But they should have. I always hoped to have children of my own someday; I like to think I wouldn’t struggle so much to connect with them. If incanting might hinder that… I shake away the worry as my stomach flutters. That’s a future problem. Until then, there’s always a chance I could enjoy that side effect. Maybe even tomorrow.
“I hope you have fun with that,” I say, blushing furiously as I pack my things into my bag.
Alexis grabs my wrist. “Come dress shopping with me. Please? It’ll be fun. There’s so much we could do with you.”
“I don’t know…”
“Don’t you want to wear something with color? Just for one night?”
It’s like she knew exactly which thread to pull. She squeals with delight when I finally agree.
* * *
A rainbow of dresses hangs from racks haphazardly shoved into the crowded dress shop. The floral perfume of oil lamps saturates the air—it’s surprisingly well lit, considering the deep orange sky soaking through windows draped with heavy, cream-colored curtains. The high-pitched gossip of our fellow female students skitters against my eardrums, and watching them confidently try on various gowns already has my nerves tightening.
A coral-pink dress catches my eye. I pull it from the rack, its soft fabric gliding between my fingers.
“You would look stunning in that,” Alexis says, peeking over my shoulder.
“It’s very… bright. I don’t like being the center of attention.”
“Everyone will be wearing bright colors, trust me.”
She’s still wrapped in the dress she picked out for herself: a bright blue ensemble that clings to her waist before puffing into a flowing skirt. It covers her neck, as expected, but a window cuts seductively close to her collarbones and dips down to reveal her cleavage. All the dresses she’s shown me, while simply made, have had a similar revealing feature. I lift the pink dress up, letting its full length tumble down so I can determine what its is.
“Besides,” she continues, “if you’re the center of attention, it’ll be because you’re with Caeo. I haven’t seen that boy enter a room without drawing the eye of half the girls in it. And some boys, too.”
My jaw drops as I turn the dress around. “This doesn’t have a back.”
“Stop acting like a prude.” Alexis grabs my arm and pulls me behind a curtain. “Try it on.”
Moments later, I’m staring at myself in the mirror, feeling more exposed than I have in my entire life. I’ve accompanied my parents to a handful of balls, but I’ve never seen anyone wear anything like this.
It’s a simple dress, its only ornamentation being braids of the same coral fabric that trace its edges. It wraps tightly around my neck, then drapes down my front, connecting into a skirt at the small of my back that cascades down to the floor.
Alexis stands beside me, twisting my chestnut locks behind my head. “We’ll put your hair up like this, and he won’t be able to keep his hands off of you.”
My face burns, almost matching the gown’s color. The soft fabric clearly reveals the curves of my breasts, and the cold air tickles my bare back, making them peak.
“I don’t think I’m brave enough for this.”
“You are. You’re gorgeous—own it. You won’t be young forever, and you don’t want to get old and regret never looking this good.”
I can’t deny the wisdom of that, and beneath my doubt, itdoesmake me feel beautiful. So I push through my twisting nerves and buy the dress.
