Page 22 of Lethal Queen

“Hey,” Rose complained, crossing her arms over her chest. Every day I spent around her, she came more out of her shell, growing in confidence around me. I hoped one day she’d scowl and tease me like she did Rae and Wyn, and even Cameo. It was obvious that Rose was every bit as much a part of the Marshall family as I was. I didn’t know her story, and I would never press for it, but curiosity thrummed inside me. Damien said she’d been through something bad, but how did she fall in with this family of kind, caring criminals?

“Here,” Rae said, rifling through the clutch she’d thrown on my bed, and grinning sharply as she produced a lip liner and lipstick. Her own makeup was bold and vivid, her makeup skills clearly at expert level. “This is more your colour, Vasya. If the goal is to stop Damien’s heart,thisis how you do it.” She paused in the act of taking off the liner’s cap. “Not that I condone killing my brother.”

I smiled, but let my mouth go slack when she came nearer with a commanding look. She was bossy and used to being in charge, but alarms never pealed in my head like when my brothers ordered me around. Instead it felt… nice, to be fussed over, to be part of something.

“There,” Rae said, stepping back when she’d swiped a new lipstick over my lips. “Much more dangerous.”

Wyn let out a low whistle. “Let her keep that, Rae. It really suits you, Vasya.”

I peered into the mirror and this time my smile hooked deeper, a rush of fierce, blade-sharp confidence expanding my lungs when I looked at myself. My hair was curly and defiant, my eyes dark and foreboding, and my lips were the darkest shade of wine red, ominous as they curled into a smirk.

For the first time, I looked in the mirror and felt entirely myself. Nothing was missing.

“I love it. Thank you.” I turned, tentatively opening my arms and relieved when all three girls launched at me. “Thank you so much.”

“Here’s my contribution,” Elowyn said when we detangled our arms, grabbing the blue velvet box. “Technically Dad sent it for you, but fuck that, I’m claiming credit.”

I laughed—until I flicked open the box and my heart skipped. A weight sank into my stomach. “I can’t wear this. This is—far too much.”

The necklace was the biggest, most extravagant, mostexpensivething I’d ever seen. It looked like something royalty would wear, teardrop diamonds hanging from a platinum chain alongside fat, gleaming sapphires. It was gorgeous and polished, reflecting every drop of light in my bedroom like true glitter, but I could sense its age. This was vintage, and probably priceless.

“Damien said you’d say that,” Wyn replied, lifting the necklace off its velvet bed and making my heart almost stop to watch her handle something that should be in a museum. “He also said to tell you that you deserve this, and it would make him happy to see you wearing it. Plus, it’s a loan. You can give it back after tonight if that stresses you out less.”

It did. But still… how much was this worth? What if I damaged it? What if I lost it?

“Okay, less thinking, more champagne,” Rae proclaimed, pushing a flute into my hand and encouraging me to tip it up to my mouth. “Don’t worry, that lippy’s going nowhere; it’s transferproof.”

I drank because I was stunned and anxious, bubbles rippling across my tongue and down my throat, but then I glimpsed the deadly woman in the mirror again and my lungs allowed more air. My back straightened. I was Vasilisa Marshall, wife of the Saint.

The necklace was cold when Wyn clasped it around my throat, its weight settling below my collarbones, and I didn’t need to ask to know it was important to the family, to know this was a very visible show of acceptance. I drank more, smiling, my stomach fluttering as lightly as the bubbles.

All that was left was to duck into the bathroom and change my clothes, which I did as quickly as I could manage without ruffling the beautiful fabric.

“The necklace has a safety clasp, so don’t worry about losing it,” Wyn told me through the door. “Also, good luck getting it off. It’s a bitch.”

I brushed creases from my black, glimmering trousers and smiled as I caught another glimpse of myself before I opened the door. I couldn’t help but remember the night Damien knelt before me whenever I was in this room, but I’d prefer to go to my wedding reception—albeit a belated one—without soaking through my underwear.

“How wouldyouknow?” Rae asked, narrowing her eyes at her sister. “The last person to wear this was mum.”

When I opened the bathroom door, Wyn was glancing out the window. “Oh, look at that. It’s going to rain.”

“It isnot,”Rose said with a frown. “Don’t tempt fate when we just finished Vasya’s hair and makeup.”

“We’ll be in a car, I’ll be fine,” I assured her, daring to lightly brush her shoulder and heartened when she didn’t pull away.

“Speaking of,” Rose asked, her eyes glimmering as she turned to me. “How was your first driving lesson?”

“Awful.” I nearly crashed the gorgeous car Damien bought for me.

“Elowyn Marshall,” Rae hissed, drawing our attention. “When did you wear this necklace?”

Wyn shrugged. “When I was twelve. I was curious.”

Rae gasped, her hands thrown over her mouth, and then she dissolved into evil laughter. “And they call me the troublemaker.”

“Youarethe troublemaker,” a welcome voice remarked from the doorway, and I turned to see Damien leaning against the doorframe, debonair and dangerous in a sharp black suit and matching shirt. His top two buttons were undone to bare a hint of golden skin—and the mark I’d left on him last night. Heat rushed to my face and he smirked, knowing what had caught my attention.

“You look…” His stare trailed down the black, sparkling jumpsuit and back up to my face, holding my gaze like he struggled to look away, too.

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