Page 77 of Castle of Nevers and Nightmares

His fingers trace up my leg, lifting Fox’s trousers until he exposes my swollen knee and heals that, too. When he digs higher, I gasp. His touch brushes upward, tingling my thigh. My protest dies in my throat. Arousal spikes low in my belly, onceagain rising like the fever that usually doesn’t grip me until my cycle.

When more tingling sensations pepper my leg, I realize he’s found Baby Hunt’s claw marks from yesterday. I rub my sternum as he attends to my other leg.

Peablossom’s sing-song voice carries from upstairs, “We are waiting, Good Folk of the twilight. Embrace the flutter, for the clock is ticking.”

Legion sighs in chagrin and unfolds his body with feline grace. His unwavering attention remains on me, and for a heartbeat, I think he’ll glamour away my curse. But he doesn’t wince at the ugliness. His fingers brush the scarred side and linger over the acid wounds.

When the itchy tingling abates, he steps back and gestures for me to go upstairs. “The ladies will take your measurements and craft a wardrobe befitting someone of your station. The Holly King’s feast requires a dress code, and it is mere days away.”

The familiar stab of rejection hits me squarely in the chest. It’s not that I’m ungrateful for the healing, but he had every chance to hide my ugliness. In a world where appearance is everything, he’s just shown his heartless cards.

I ache to crawl beneath my covers, to hide until this feeling of inadequacy leaves, but now I must survive a fitting with three stunning females scrutinizing every inch of my body. Refusing to let my mood show on my face, I follow Legion up the staircase to the next level. The ladies have rearranged classroom furniture to provide space with a footstool at the center where I’m to be poked and prodded.

“Ladies, you have your instructions.” He flicks through a few swatches, then heads back to the staircase. “I will leave you to your privacy.”

“You’re leaving so soon, my lord?” The yellow-haired Lady Mustardseed casts a nervous glance in my direction.

“I have much work to do,” he replies.

“Oh.”

“Do you require further clarification?”

“Sir, if it pleases you, we require guidance regarding one particular instruction.”

Peablossom’s brows lower. Mustardseed gestures to Cobweb, who quickly collects a long swathe of fabric and holds it lengthwise at the base of my throat. When the undead turned on me, they clawed my left side. The scars run from my cheek to my décolletage. Logically, I know they were only fine silver slivers after being healed, but this curse makes them bulbous, hot, pulsing ropes of regret throbbing for all to see.

“Here?” Cobweb’s tinkling voice grates my nerves. She lifts the swathe higher, as if covering more skin is a blessing. “Or here?”

I jerk back as she knuckles my chin. Her shudder is unmistakable. My soul shrinks, and I want to crawl into the shadows.

“Lower,” Legion clips, a note of displeasure in his tone.

Cobweb blinks, surprised. But she lowers the swathe—an inch. “Here?”

I’m about to shove her in the face when a growl rumbles through Legion’s lips. “Peablossom.”

“Never fear, my lord. I have everything noted.” She pats a notebook to her breast.

Mustardseed laughs uneasily, glancing at Cobweb for assistance. The petite faerie is the very picture of her name—delicate, refined, and a pretty death trap. The sense of danger oozes from her porcelain pores as she sidles up to Legion, bats her lashes, and purrs, “My lord, surely you don’t wish to place your tender subterranean blossom in such harsh light. Perhapsshe would be more comfortable if we... draw less attention to the... features less admired by us Good Folk.”

“You can’t cover my face,” I snap. “A veil is a punishment, isn’t it?”

“Or a blessing,” Mustardseed mumbles to Cobweb.

“The perception of lack-witted folk is not my concern.” Legion’s sharp tone seizes the air in my lungs. “She’s perfectly suited to the light.”

He blinks, seemingly bewildered at his own words. His mask slip is brief, and then the imperious Knight Commander returns.

Peablossom cuts in front of the other two, smiling broadly at Legion. “Your Radiance, I will see that your explicit instructions are followed to the last letter. Never fear. I know how to direct our precious bloom so that she is a ray of sun breaking through the shadows.”

“Better.” Legion starts down the stairs, stops, and then looks at me as he instructs the ladies, “Treat our Shadow as you would our queen.”

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

WILLOW

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