Page 92 of The Sundered Realms

Liris wore a sleek white dress with silk from Serenthuar and the high buttoned collar of Isendhor. Rather than embroidering a traditional Serenthuar pattern, as there hadn’t been time, an overlay of pressed gold beading was stitched to the dress, snaking around her torso and arms.

The white dress glowed against her dark brown skin. Most people would be flaunting the brightest colors of their realms: she would stand out, perfectly untouched.

She had to be perfect.

Glancing in the mirror, she twisted her hair into an artful bun. A bit of tactical gold glitter on her face and arms, and that would do.

“Training.” Liris shrugged. “Candidates are expected to be able to present themselves without needing to rely on anyone who might be untrustworthy. Admittedly, there are certain styles of dress that are impossible to handle alone, but this isn’t one. Yours—“

“Half-demon children are also expected to make do without assistance, but we accomplish that by not acquiring clothes you can’t put on by yourself,” Shry muttered. “And by ‘we’ I mean me.”

Liris laughed and helped Shry arrange the final pieces with a touch of makeup—lightly, because she was used to adding color to darker skin. Shry’s dress clothes were stunning: fitted black pants that switched to lace just under her breasts, strategically covering her top and gathering at her neck to mimic Isendhor’s high collar and mark her as one of their party, with a sheer cape attached at her shoulders to flutter around her.

Against Shry’s flowing white hair, her outfit was proof that under the right circumstances, black formalwear was neither safe nor boring. But she would be able to more easily blend into shadows, and this way Liris and Vhannor, both in white, would form a visible, undeniable unit.

“This isn’t what formalwear is like where you’re from?” Liris asked.

Shry’s expression darkened. “No.” She didn’t elaborate.

Ah yes, Liris’ vaunted diplomatic skills back in evidence.

“Well, I’m glad you found it,” Liris said briskly. “It suits you. Shall we go see what trouble Vhannor’s gotten himself into?”

To her surprise, rather than sending her rushing for the door, her statement made Shry pause. She looked Liris over, smiled slyly. “Maybe put your cloak on, for maximal dramatic effect.”

“We still have to go through the Gate—“

“For Vhannor.”

Oh. Liris flushed even as a grin spread across her face, and she swirled the shimmering silver cloak around her.

She arched her eyebrows at Shry.

“Now we’re ready,“ Shry said.

Liris’ fretting had been so focused on the ball, it hadn’t really occurred to her that even though she and Vhannor both knew what they would be wearing—they’d coordinated to match, after all—the actual unveiling would be different.

It was very different.

Vhannor stood in front of the floral Gate, clad head-to-toe in pearly white. He wore a long-sleeved button-up tunic extending to mid-thigh with the same high collar as her dress. A shimmer of gold sparkled in his black hair and over his cheekbones.

He did look perfect. Untouchable, like not even dirt could trouble him—and in fact he probably had a spell for that.

And the moment he saw her, Vhannor went still. His eyes widened.

Shry’s throaty laughter behind her propelled Liris forward.

They might be about to cross into winter, but she felt like she was on fire as she strode toward him. Even more so when she got close enough to see the burning orange in his gaze had grown.

Without breaking eye contact, he reached for one of her hands, lifting it to his lips to place a kiss on it.

Maybe Liris would spontaneously combust before they ever reached the ball.

“You’re stunning,” Vhannor said simply.

Not even ‘you look,’ but ‘you are.’

You’re perfect, she wanted to say, but it turned out she did have enough training to not blurt that out.

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