“You’re going to have so much fun.” Eden swoops in for a hug before I can shove her off me. “I’ll have the guards tell Father you were just taking your time to get ready, then we’ll get you into your gown. The gold will look so lovely against your skin, and the pink flowers will?—”
“I’m not wearing that ugly thing,” I snarl.
Hurt flashes across Eden’s face.
“No offence.” I clear my throat. “I mean, it looks really good on you because you’ve got the body for it. It wouldn’t look right on me.” I’m not lying. Our matching dresses were designed with Blossom’s curves in mind. While Eden has enough of a figure to fill out the fabric, my small chest wouldn’t stand a chance.
That’s not to mention those awful puff sleeves…
“Father had them made specially for tonight,” Eden reminds me.
“Then maybeFathershould’ve asked us first what we wanted to wear.” Pushing up from the grass, I brush the dirt from my backside. “Besides, I’ve got another dress that would be perfect for Blossom’s birthday.” A grin touches my cheeks, which Eden seems to notice as her eyes narrow.
“What are you scheming?”
“You’ll see.” I smirk. “By the way, Angel needs her tack removing, and she’ll need to be groomed before she goes to sleep. Her brushes are kept in her stall.”
“What?” Eden blurts, but I’m already marching towards the palace. Stars glisten above the turrets, twinkling like the excitement in my chest. “Dahlia!”
“I’ll see you at the ball!” I sing over my shoulder. If Father wants me at Blossom’s party so badly, I’ll be there.
And I’ll make sure not a single gentleman misses me.
2
DAHLIA
I’m going to die tonight. Father will take one look at my dress from across the ballroom, and if he doesn’t murder me on the spot, Blossom certainly will.
My fingers brush the silky skirt. Red fabric spills down my legs like wine, while the bodice is low and tight enough that the minimal cleavage I have is on full display. My hair looks good, too. After leaving the stables, I pushed it all up and styled it in twists around my tiara, leaving my shoulders bare and drawing attention to the black choker clasped around my neck.
I look gorgeous. Scandalous. If Father doesn’t kill me, at least the attention I’ll get will make this party more interesting.
“What in our divine realm are you wearing?”
I stop metres from the entrance to the ballroom. Camellia’s tall figure blocks the warm light of the chandeliers. The golden tones of her gown look pretty against her chestnut hair and olive skin, but those puffed sleeves…
“You look like you have three heads.” I grin.
“What?” She jerks back. “What are you talking about?”
“Your sleeves.” I glance at them. “They’re massive. Are you hiding your pointe shoes in there?Pleasetell me you are andthat this whole party is just a big distraction so we can sneak out to our dance circle until morning.”
Aside from horses, ballet is my only other escape from the palace. While I’m dancing, I’m not thinking about politics, or fancy dinners, or whatever stuck-up prince Father will one day try to force my hand to.
But any hope of sneaking out is crushed after my perfect sister rolls her eyes. “The sleeves were Blossom’s idea. She worked hard with Eden to design these dresses. And I think they look perfectly lovely. Though clearly you forgot to put yours on before leaving your bedchamber. Where did you even find that gown?” Her gaze travels down to my skirt, hardening into a glare when she notices the long slit that reaches my hip. “If you can even call it a gown…”
“Oh, this old thing?” I laugh teasingly. “Found it in your wardrobe, actually.” I didn’t. But the way her face flushes like a tomato is too hilarious to resist.
“That’s not…” she stammers. “I-I don’t have any gowns like that!”
“Nice to catch up with you. Speak later.” I push past her and dive into the ballroom before she can stop me. I love Camellia, despite how much she may hate me, but this is her own fault. Teasing her is too fun.
Weaving through the crowds, my eyes drift over the ballroom. I spot my sisters quickly by Father’s dais. Their ugly dresses aren’t hard to miss in a sea of elegantly dressed nobles. Eden’s there too, mingling with my other sisters while Father watches them from his throne, the gold buttons of his red overcoat matching the huge columns that stretch up to our painted ceiling.
I haven’t spoken to him since Amaryllis left… and I don't really want to.
It’s hard to trust a father who sold his eldest daughter to the highest bidder, especially when that ended up being the prince who tried to force himself upon her. I’m just glad Ami is safe, and that the prince is now rotting in a grave.
