So much for misjudging him. But no, he’d been nice yesterday, hadn’t he? Civil? More than that. He’d made sure I made it safely to my warm bed, and he’d left chocolates on my nightstand. That definitely hadn’t been a hallucination, because I’d eaten them as a sneaky little pre-breakfast starter, and they’d been as delicious as they were beautiful.
“I was just walking,” I lied, unsure whether I was still in the mood for gushing gratitude, “and I saw you sitting there and thought I’d say hi. I’ve just come from a dress fitting. For the ball.”
Idris looked up from his book. The sunlight caught his eyes, shrinking his pupils to tiny black specks and enhancing the striking yellow tones of his irises, all but obliterating the green. He really was a gorgeous creature, even if his attitude left a lot to be desired. Those lovely eyes flickered over my body, taking in my outfit and no doubt deeming me unworthy of whatever magnificent ballgown the witches were running up. They lingered on my bare legs just long enough for me to grow conscious of his attention before they lifted back to my face.
“What a thrilling life you lead.” This time, he held my stare as my mouth fell open in mildly offended surprise.
Maybe it was a bit boring compared to his, but we couldn’t all be born into vast wealth and spend our days prancing over the rainbow on pretty ponies.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly rude?”
He smirked, basking in my insult as though I’d told him how handsome he was. “As a matter of fact, yes, but it means so much more coming from you, human.”
I bristled at the condescending nickname. I wasn’t ashamed of being human, but the way he said it… he obviously expected me to be. “Oh, pretending you don’t know my name again, are you?”
“Perhaps I’ve forgotten.”
I rolled my eyes. What did I care? He could go and gaslight somebody else, just as soon as I’d proven myself to be the bigger person. “Anyway, Idris, I was hoping to run into you. I just wanted to say thanks for yesterday, I really enjoyed it, and the chocolates were lovely.” The temptation to add ‘unlike you’ almost got the better of me, but I pressed my lips together in an attempt to maintain the moral high ground.
Idris’ eyebrows lifted. In surprise? Did he really think so little of me that I wouldn’t bother to thank someone for a once in a lifetime experience? Maybe it wasn’t the speech I’d imagined, maybe I hadn’t expressed just how deeply the flight had marked me, but it was better than nothing, and more than he deserved, evidently. Yesterday’s kindness had apparently been nothing more than a little blip in a consistently piss-poor personality.
I flicked my loose hair away from where it had fallen forward over my shoulder. The prince tracked the movement, his unusual eyes lingering on the colourful strands. I wasn’t about to give him the opportunity to insult my pride and joy. “See you around.”
Before he had a chance to say something else to sour my mood, I walked away, making an extra effort to walk in a perfectly straight line and avoid scuffing the soles of my boots. The last thing I needed was to make a fool of myself when I knew the absence of his pencil scratching meant he was watching my retreat. Maybe I even swished my hips a little, remembering the way his undeserving eyes had lingered on my legs. Maybe.
26New Dress, Who’s Dis?
The girl looking back at me from my dressing table mirror wasn’t quite a stranger, but she was somebody I no longer knew. It wasn’t just the way I looked, polished to an almost fae-like perfection in preparation for Anwir’s ball. It was how I felt.
Excited. Brimming with anticipation at the prospect of a fairytale ball. That in itself wasn’t unusual. I was no stranger to blowing off steam at the end of a long week by donning a slinky dress and hitting the clubs until the early hours, but the Aliza I’d thought I knew would have been wracked with guilt at leaving my parents in agony for a week longer than necessary.
I should have been preparing for my graduation. My robe should have been hung in my bedroom, a thrilling reminder that all my hard work had finally paid off, that my future had arrived at last. Had Mum and Dad cancelled the rental, or had they collected it in the hope that I would show up in the nick of time? Would my friends feel like celebrating when they received their own degrees, or would the occasion be marred by my empty seat? My guts writhed. They would celebrate. They’d cheer for each other, they’d smile, and when it was all over, they’d raise a shot to me before drinking the bar dry. They’d dance and laugh and make lifelong memories. Without me.
My gaze drifted from my reflection to the explosion of glittering golden tulle hung from my wardrobe, and my belly did a little flip. Tonight, I’d make my own memories. Never in a million years had I imagined a chance to wear such a thing. Maybe if I’d ever met someone worth marrying, but even then, I’d have had to marry in a cathedral to pull off such a dress. I could hardly believe the witches had created it in only a week. Somehow, the gown filled me with more fizzing anticipation than a dowdy old graduation robe ever could. What did that make me? Some sort of vain, selfish monster? I could accept that title, just for one night.
What would Anwir think of me in my dress?
I do not care what any man thinks.
Except… I did. I cared, and I hated myself for it. Tonight was an act, my last night in Neath, but I wanted the prince to see me and wish it wasn’t. I wanted him to see what I could look like when I wasn’t covered in blood and dirt and a week’s worth of grease and grime. I wanted him to want me, not the idea of the Human Queen with the power to stoke the flames of uprising in his people. When he saw my fairytale transformation, maybe he’d forget his kingdom long enough to sate the need my nightly, illicit dreams had awoken in me.
Maybe, just maybe, I had a chance.
A pair of witches had spent the past few hours transforming me. After all my baths, my hair had faded into the palest of pastel ombres. It shimmered like an opal in the candlelight. The witch had curled and pinned it into a low knot at the nape of my neck, leaving a few loose coils to frame my face. A diamond tiara, shaped like an explosion of stars, nestled on top.
I’d worried about how I’d look without access to my makeup bag. I was a fan of winged eyeliner and bold, pink lips, and I’d never attended an event without them. But a smothering of magic lotions had given my skin a glassy glow, and with the barest hint of colour applied to my cheeks and lips, and a dusting of kohl around my eyes, I looked naturally radiant. Not as beautiful as the fae, with my too-human face, but a damn sight better than I’d looked since I’d arrived in this awful place, or any day since.
Except, I was finding Neath less awful with every day that passed. It was all too easy to shove the memories of giant spiders and wolves the size of horses to the back of my mind when I was safe behind the witches’ walls. Ever since my flight with Idris, I’d been struck anew with the beauty and magic this place had to offer. I couldn’t make myself believe that this, however brief my stay might be, was my life. I’d have to go the rest of my years pretending none of it had ever happened, so what was the harm in enjoying it while I still could?
Not that Idris had bothered to take me on any more flights to the clouds, or even to glance in my direction since he’d scooped me into his arms and saved me from the clutches of hypothermia. I’d seen him about the place, lurking in a quiet nook, or hidden in the grounds, sketching in his little black book. On those occasions, he didn’t bother to look up, though I thought I might have seen his shoulders stiffen as I drew near. Not that I cared. What could we possibly have to say to each other? I had nothing in common with the haughty prince. I was glad that he was absent most of the time. Probably riding his pretty little horse through the clouds without a care in the world, making the most of his freedom now he was awake.
Who says I want to be?
I hadn’t forgotten his words at the lake. I played them over in my mind whenever I had a moment between party plans and soul-crushing guilt. Poor pampered prince. He was right. It had to be a difficult life, born into immense, unearned privilege, to have the world at his fingertips. Though my tiny mortal mind couldn’t even begin to fathom such torment, I could at least grasp that it must be simply horrific to have everything I desired brought to me on a silver platter. No wonder he preferred being cursed to soaring amongst the clouds.
The witch at my back slid one final diamond pin into my hair and smiled at me in the mirror.
“Done. What do you think, Your Majesty?”
Your Majesty.
I’d been getting called that all week, and it still made me want to snort with laughter. Anwir had spread the story that, after my temper tantrum the night we’d returned to Nairsgarth, I’d decided to stay, to become his fabled Human Queen. We had agreed that our ruse should be complete. Nobody, not even the witches could doubt us. All it would take was one too many glasses of fairy wine, and somebody might say the wrong thing to the wrong person, and our deception would come crashing down. As far as anyone but the prince and I knew, a coronation was all that stood between me and the throne. That, and a psychotic male intent on my death, of course.
I couldn’t be scared of King Maelgwyn tonight. I smiled at my reflection, turning my head to admire my hair, and the stunning diamond starburst hovering above.
“It’s gorgeous. Thank you.”
The witch curtsied, blushing furiously. My heart sank a little. If only Pansy could have been the one to help me get ready. If only her heart hadn’t been broken into thousands of pieces. If only my hands weren’t smeared by the phantom stain of her mother’s blood.
I’d tried to visit Pansy, but my friend was deep in the first days of grief, and she’d turned me away each time. It was only grief, I reminded myself several times a day, only grief that had her refusing my company. She couldn’t possibly blame me for her mother’s death. Could she?
I snatched my hands to my lap, remembering too late the second witch kneeling beside my chair, buffing my fingernails to a shine.
“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” She looked horrified and terrified all at once.
“No. No, I’m fine. I just…” How could I say that, in certain lights, I thought I could still see blood in my cuticles? “I just can’t sit still. I’m too excited.”
Relief washed over her face. “It is almost time to get dressed.”
