“What do I wear?” Val wailed. “I don’t know how to do this!”
“It’s okay. It’s fine.” Isabella inhaled. “You simply have to choose something that makes you look pretty but not too pretty, you know? It should be gently suggestive without seeming vulgar. It shouldn’t knock his socks off, but it should whet his appetite for how beautiful you can be. Oh, and it has to be comfortable and appropriate for the weather and activities.”
“Only that, huh?” Val leaned her head back. “This was a mistake.”
“It was not a mistake. We’ll pick the perfect outfit for you,” Isabella promised. “He’s going to love it, and you’ll have a great time.”
“I don’t know how to skate,” Val moaned.
“Even better. Lots of opportunities to romantically fall into his arms. I'm willing to bet that’s why he picked ice skating.” Isabella beamed. “It’ll be awesome, Val. You’ll see.”
“I don’t have skates,” Val wailed.
Isabella laughed. “Relax. You rent them. Now, go upstairs and open your closet so we can pick an outfit.”
Val groaned.
“Who chose your dress for that gala thing you went to?” Isabella demanded.
“That gala thing” was Val’s knighthood ceremony at the Eternal Palace, but Isabella didn’t need to know that.
“You did,” Val mumbled. “I looked stunning, too.”
“You did. Channel that confidence, girl!” Isabella grinned. “Now, hurry up. I’m two blocks from work, and that’s not a lot of time to pick an outfit.”
Val stumbled upstairs and endured several minutes of Isabella’s dismay about her wardrobe, which mainly consisted of T-shirts, tank tops, jeans, and leather jackets. They finally settled on clothes for Val’s date and hung up.
Date. Ugh. What have I gotten myself into?
Coffee did little to alleviate the pounding headache behind Val’s temples. Sitting at the kitchen table, she drank a cup slowly and realized that it was silent upstairs. She knew she’d gotten Tetra home last night. Maybe the faerie was as hungover as she was.
Mug in hand, Val climbed the stairs to the apartment and knocked as loudly as her splitting head would allow.
“Tetra,” she growled.
The door swung open. “What?” Tetra demanded, still in last night’s clothes.
“Did you sleep in your clothes?” Val asked.
Tetra glowered. “What do humans do, sleep naked? I didn’t think being naked featured in the human experience.”
“It’s… Never mind.” Val stifled a yawn. “There’s microwave burritos in the freezer if you’re hungry.”
Tetra stared at her like she’d spoken a foreign language.
“Fine. I’ll show you.” Val stomped into the kitchen.
Tetra closed the door behind her. “Don’t you have Fernwood dew?”
“It doesn’t fall off trees in the city, believe it or not. It’s expensive.”
“You could have told me that before I had three shots of faerie wine last night,” Tetra grumbled.
Val retrieved the box of highly processed carbs from the freezer and thrust it into Tetra’s hands. “Follow the instructions on the box.” She pointed at the microwave. “Push that button to set the timer. Do you need anything else?”
“Yeah. Fernwood dew,” Tetra complained.
“Stay in bed and nurse your headache like everyone else. You have to be at work at five this evening,” Val snapped.
Tetra’s eyes widened. “Work?”
“I didn’t tell you? Enzo offered you a job as a barmaid at the Iron Fist.” Val folded her arms. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Tetra raised her chin. “I am a princess!”
“You’re a condemned criminal,” Val shot back, “and I’m not having this argument with you.”
She bit off the end of her sentence before she ordered Tetra to shut up and accept the job. After storming out of the apartment, she headed to her bathroom and fished in the cabinet above the sink for a small glass bottle that sparkled like ice.
Fernwood dew was too expensive to waste on sulky faeries, but Val had commissions to work on, and she knew from experience that a clanging hammer did nothing good for a hangover.
She shook a single capsule containing clear fluid onto her palm and swallowed it. The headache instantly disappeared. Her tight shoulders relaxed, and she grinned into the mirror.
“Let’s go forge shit,” she told her reflection.
The forge bellowed as a metal bar heated within. Val sat at her workbench with a parchment spread in front of her, elegant wrought-iron paperweights holding down each corner. She scrolled through the messages on her phone as she checked the final design on the parchment.
