“The dress.” She stares at me like I’ve grown four heads. I turn to the mirror to check. Nope. Still one. Emmie blinks. “For tonight.” She crosses to the wardrobe, pulling out a garment bag. “I picked it out myself. Legend just said to get you something that’ll make you fit in.”
“I’m terrified,” I say, and again with the truth because he sent a damn Argent to buy my dress?
“I thought you might be.” She unzips the bag slowly. Dramatically. “That’s why I picked this.”
She pulls it out.
My mouth drops.
The dress is black. Full-length. Lace so intricate it looks like spiderwebs woven by magic. It’s tight. Obscene. See-through everywhere except the places that matter—a strategic strip of solid fabric over the titties and another over the kitty. Everything else? Bare skin visible through delicate, deadly patterns.
It’s a bomb disguised as clothing.
I love it.
“Damn,” I breathe, my face stinging from the smile.
Emmie grins, wicked and bright. “I can’t wait to hear Legend’s reaction.”
I nod, excitement rushing through my veins. “He’s going to lose his mind.”
“That’s the idea.” She hangs it carefully on the door. “Honestly, it’s something I’d wear if I wasn’t—”
Warmth spreads through my chest. Not just from the Fae Juice. From something else. Something that feels uncomfortably close to friendship.
“Come with me,” I say. “To the ball.”
Emmie’s smile fades. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m a maiden. We serve. We don’t attend.” She takes the bottle back.” That’s the deal.”
“Fuck the deal.” I step closer. “You just spent an hour making me look like I could murder a room full of royals. Come watch me do it.”
“Haide—”
“I’m joking, I won’t kill them.” I hold her eyes. “Please come.”
The word feels foreign. Wrong. I don’t beg. But something about Emmie, the way she laughs and the way she doesn’t flinch, makes me want her there. Makes me want someone in that crowd who isn’t judging. Who isn’t waiting for me to fail.
Emmie’s eyes soften. “I wish I could. But if I show up, it’ll cause problems. For me. For you. For Legend.” She squeezes my shoulder. “But I’ll be thinking about you. And tomorrow, you’ll tell me everything.”
I swallow the disappointment. “Deal.”
She hands the bottle back. “Finish this. You’re going to need it.”
I take a long drink, watching the purple liquid disappear. Through the window, Legend’s still talking to Arabella. But now he’s looking up. At the window. At me.
Our eyes meet.
He’s too far from me to feel that ever-present pull, separatedby distance and wards, yet I stillfeelhim as I think of him. I feel him because he’s inside me. In that irrational bond that my body understands even if my brain doesn’t.
He smirks. Like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. Like he can taste my jealousy from across the quad.
Bastard.
I raise the bottle in a mock salute.
