It ended cropped, too cropped. No matter how many times I tugged at it, the fabric only climbed higher, a stubborn tease. The swell of my breasts pressed against the weave, the hollow of my hips revealed like an invitation I hadn’t given.
The scar across my chest remained covered. The wound had healed to a raised line, the angry red faded now into muted pink. In a few more days it would blend, if I allowed it.
I had the power to erase it entirely. To close it like it had never happened. I could; I’d debated it. But the pull to smooth it away never came. Not the way it always did for Callum or for Elva. Mine were...mine. They never bothered me. If anything, they kept me humble.
My fingertips brushed the rough line, and something kindled, a purr beneath my skin, like the scar itself carried memory in its fibers. Even unfond ones.
The bottom half of the ensemble clung with the same decadence, falling loose around my hips before streaming straight to the floor. Slits climbed scandalously high on either side, stopping at the bare edge of my upper thighs.
No wonder it hadn’t taken long to make. There was hardly any fabric involved.
I’d noticed other women in the palace draped in similar styles as we passed the corridors earlier, even Aelora. Gods, especially Aelora. If she managed to keep her damn nipples covered at dinner tonight, it would be a miracle.
Perhaps then, if she hadn’t also been swathed across Ronan like he belonged to her, I might have been tempted to compliment her. The outfit, the body she so ruthlessly flaunted.
But, alas, I was petty.
Sylen had nearly scalped me trying to tame my hair before sighing and declaring it best left down and natural.
“The curls are elegant,” she said, like it was fact rather than opinion.
Then her palm shifted, and three small roses bloomed red and tight in her hand. She reached for me, intent on weaving them into my waves until I had grimaced.
Still, the thought lingered, beauty as the weapon.
The doors to the great hall sighed open, the room growing wide and dark, challenging me to enter. Torchlight licked the vaulted ceiling, gilding the faces that watched me from shadow.
At the far end there was a long table crouched under a constellation of candles where plates gleamed, goblets nearly polished to mirrors, the air sitting thick with spice and something iron-deep that pressed at the back of my throat.
I stepped through the doorway, only tightening the breathless air waiting for me inside. My hands went clammy at my sides, breath coming too loud in my ears. Every eye followed the slow, careful drum of my steps. It should have felt like walking into a trap. It did not. It felt like walking into a verdict.
Then I felt him. Heard him.
Do not pretend that you are meek or fragile,Ronan spoke.They’re all staring at you. Half in awe, half terrified. Let them learn who you are.
He sat at the head of the table, a primal grin slashing across his face. He lounged like he owned the hall, likely because he did, one leg draped lazily over the other, eyes never leaving me.
But then they’ll know.The thought slipped out.
His answer came immediately.I wasn’t talking about the curse.Youare the force, Verena. I see you. For everything you’re worth.
The words snapped through the bond and my body obeyed before my mind could catch up. My shoulders squared, rolling back as though I bore a crown. My chin lifted, cutting through that silence as though it were only a veil. My steps lengthened, sharpened, a commanding rhythm, filling the space.
Gods, there’s my ruin.The shiver that chased up my spine was treacherous, addictive. Then his voice sank deeper, rougher.You look like someone even the divine would kneel to.
Heat bloomed down my chest, curling in my gut, and my strut shifted, no longer calculated, no longer borrowed confidence, but bold now. Dangerous. The kind of walk that dared anyone at that table to meet my eyes and not look away.
See how they watch you? Don’t pretend you don’t love it.
One man did stare more recklessly than the rest, his eyes dragging down the length of me before hovering around my hips. I didn’t pay him any mind, just kept my admiration on Ronan.
If he looks at you again like that, I’ll take his eyes. Keep that praise on me, soulflame.
No need,I insisted.If he looks at me again like that, I’ll take his throat.
Something tightened on the other end of the thread, his want bleeding down it in a smoking heat.
Good news or bad news first.The question slipped through just as I rounded the edge of the table where men and women both sat, glaring only at me. And still, the world narrowed to only the sway of gloss at my thighs.
