From his expression it was obvious Tybalt was referring to a little bit more than kissing, and I thought I’d die of embarrassment. “He told you that?”
“Of course not. Your blush just did though.” Tybalt grinned mischievously and I couldn’t believe I’d actually fallen for that trick.
“One night doesn’t mean anything.”
“Oh no? Then why does he watch you like a man in love?”
“You’re being overly dramatic.” It really wasn’t much of a stretch though, because we’d been in love before our relationship had gone down in flames.
“I’m not blind either, cousin. Well, I’d better go and stop Portia before she throws you a parade. You’ll want to find another dress, I’ll wager. She’s going to insist you wear something even fancier to your party.”
The blood drained from my face at the idea of wearing an even fancier gown, and I nodded as Tybalt walked off. Deciding I’d better pick something before she did, I made my way through the castle and tried to ignore the fact that the noise level had raised a few decibels with general excitement at the prospect of a party. Faeries love to party-they love food, they love booze, they love music. Wine, women and song is a nicer way to phrase it, but the plain truth is faeries are as rowdy and fun-loving as the Greek community on a Big Ten campus.
When I returned to my room, I stood standing in front of the intimidating array of outfits, having absolutely no idea what I was doing. Like I said, dresses are not my style. I pick my clothing based on comfort, durability and machine washability. I don’t iron. I don’t dry clean. I wasn’t even sure how to get into most of these outfits, much less the undergarments that went with them. There were no less than three corsets, and the mere sight of them made me want to run screaming from the room.
As I contemplated which one would be the least torturous I found my mind wandering. Lex’s favorite color (aside from black) was red, and there were several dresses in various shades of it. Would he like me better in the dress with the ridiculously low-plunging neckline, or the anorexically tight dress that would push my girls up so high the tops of my breasts could almost brush the bottom of my chin? The train of thought continued on to consider if the bright scarlet fabric emanated a woman-of-ill-repute vibe.
“Ooh, ooh, the pink one!” Portia squealed from behind me. “Pick the pink one, he’ll just love it.”
“Pink?” I frowned. “Not going to happen. This thing is a nightmare dipped in Pepto-Bismol.”
“It’s pretty.” Portia pouted as she hovered over me, literally.
“It’s got ruffles! I don’t do ruffles.” I shook my head in a firm no. The faerie sighed, the weight of the world in her tone, and poofed the offending dress out of existence in a puff of shining dust. “Is there slinky? Maybe slinky that flows into a twirly-skirt-type thing?” I suggested in my “I know nothing of fashion” speak. “And maybe long evening gloves. I like those, the silky kind.”
Portia nodded, pressing a petite finger to her lips as she plotted. “What color?”
“Black.”
“Not black. Black is not a color.”
“Geez. Red? Like garnet red maybe?”
“I can work with that. Stand still.” Tilting her head to the side, she paused for a moment, and then I felt a tingling rush of prickly heat flash across my body in the blink of an eye. Glancing down at myself, I discovered the green and silver gown had been replaced by sleek scarlet silk. I gasped, my torso now constricted by an oxygen-depriving torture device that had to be a corset.
“Ow! Bloody hell, Portia, I can’t breathe.”
“You don’t need to breathe. You look fabulous, see for yourself.”
At her direction I turned toward the mirror and blinked. The evil device had sucked me in and fluffed me out, giving me ample cleavage and the illusion of a slender waist. Slowly I approached my reflection and did a series of half turns, amazed at the effect a little torture had on my figure. Maybe breathing was overrated after all. The skirt of the gown fanned out just under my knees, flowing with a fluid grace every time I moved. Strapless, the gown bared my shoulders, and matching silk gloves stretched up my arms and ended just above my elbows, marred only by the bump of my wristwatch concealed beneath one.
“Wow,” I said numbly.
“Am I good or what?” Portia grinned, and I nodded in mute agreement. “We should do something about the glasses.”
“Don’t touch the glasses.”
“But they don’t ma-”
“You’re not touching the glasses.” With my luck she’d accidentally screw up the prescription and I’d spend the night stumbling around half blind.
“Fine. Okay, now we just need to do your hair, and I was thinking maybe a diamond and ruby choker with matching drop earrings, and I have such perfect perfume, you have no idea, and a matching evening bag studded with crystals…”
The music floated up around me as I approached the grand ballroom, and I paused at the unique combination of snow falling indoors mixed with a multitude of small, crystalline spheres that waved and danced in the air like soap bubbles blown by a child on a summer’s day. They caught the soft light and reflected it in rainbow patterns throughout the hall. As always it was cold, and I wished Portia had thought to add a wrap of some sort to my ensemble.
I almost felt like Cinderella about to enter the ball as I walked down the stairs, but there were too many important differences keeping me from embracing that story. This party was held in my honor, and I already had a place here, a home. I wasn’t a poor scullery maid looking to escape her dreary life-not that my life was glamorous, but it’d certainly been exciting the past few days.
I needed the support of my clan, and I needed their protection from the vamps that wanted to tear my throat out before I could become Titania. The purpose of this party was politics, and the fact that a guardian with a sexy southern drawl was probably somewhere on the other side of those huge double doors meant nothing to me. Honest.
Standing straight and proud, I approached the doors and breezed through them confidently when they swung open for me. The room was beautiful, as expected-the Silverleafs don’t do anything halfway. More falling snow and crystal bubbles floated overhead, mixed with multicolored balls of light that darted to and fro in time with the music. Though they have a love of all varieties of music, a classical selection had been picked for the occasion, a symphony of strings, reeds and percussion instruments weaving together to form an entrancing waltz. Not my typical style of music, though I do have an appreciation for some classical pieces.
A woman in a rich purple gown glided up to me, her face lit with a bright smile, and it took me a moment to recognize Portia without her wings. The confusion must have shown on my face, and she giggled at me.
“They ruined the line of the dress so I took them off,” she explained as she took my arm. “The wings get in the way when I’m dancing too. I’ll put them back on later.”
“Oh. Well, that makes sense then.”
With Portia on my arm I surveyed the room. A large percentage of the clan had decided to attend, both full-blood faeries and mixed blood mortals like myself, creating a virtual sea of glittering finery that moved and hummed with excitement. There were several familiar faces in the crowd, but I continued scanning it until I realized what I was doing and then mentally kicked myself for looking for Lex. Apparently he was still upset, and a cold knot of guilt formed in my gut. Yeah, he should’ve told me what was going on, but it couldn’t have been easy watching a vampire paw at the woman he’d spent the night before with.
Pretending everything was all right in the world, I allowed Portia to lead me around the room. I smiled, I laughed, I chatted, I nodded, and smiled some more. I danced when asked, and eventually sat down and had a glass of wine with a circle of Portia’s friends, listening to their gossip.