Page 102 of Shades of Silver City

“Is that a mask?” I ask stupidly, squinting at the gilded item in his hand.

“Yes.” He clears his throat, meeting my gaze again. “It should match your dress. Scathe said you might like it.”

“Scathe?” I laugh. “Okay, weirdo.”

Accepting the mask from him, I run my fingers over the material. The mask is divided into two distinct halves. The first is adorned with a shiny gold surface and black detailing, while the second half has a matte-black finish with gold detailing.

The top edge of the mask, just above the eyeholes, curves upward in a graceful manner, forming an elaborate, asymmetrical butterfly design.

It’s captivating. Elegant. With a touch of whimsy.

My eyes widen. “Wow, this is…” I whisper. The words catch in my throat.

Breathtaking comes to mind.

But it’s also so not…me. It’s much too fancy, expensive.

Maybe it can be me, though, just for a single night.

I turn away, mostly to try and hide my silly, budding smile. He chose a butterfly. For me. It can’t be a coincidence, since he saw the tattoo on my leg the other night. My symbol of growth. Transformation. Freedom.

There’s no such thing as coincidences.

I’m absolutely not this girl—the type to get glammed up, to go on fancy dates, to burst with giddiness at the attention of a handsome man—but I can’t help the flutters that erupt in my stomach.

And handsome isn’t even the right word for him. It’s almost sinful how downright sexy he is, all dressed up.

“Thanks,” I say, lifting the mask. I tamp down my smile as I try not to openly ogle him.

He gives me a coy smile, then turns and heads down the hallway, leaving me to finish getting ready.

Twenty minutes later, and my dress is on. Saying I’m out of my depth is a massive understatement. It’s the fanciest piece of fabric to ever touch my skin. The dress is the color of the starless sky. Delicate straps adorned with black flowers descend into a backless top and a plunging V-neck in a risqué manner I’m not used to.

It’s revealing, seductive, but at least I have a small chest, so I don’t run the risk of something popping out.

The cinched waist accentuates my hips, while the billowing skirts cascade into a captivating bell-shaped mass of tulle. Ebony flowers are scattered across the fabric. The absence of color accentuates the allure, all its beauty derived from the layered textures. My hair falls freely down my back in gentle waves.

My heart hammers as I step into the hallway. Shaking out my hands, trying to brush off the nerves, I take a deep breath and head downstairs to join my not-date for our outing.

ARCHER

When Tasia enters the room, I swear to Sirius I forget how to breathe.

I’m in the kitchen, leaning against the island and having a conversation with Godric, when she descends the steps and enters my line of sight.

I trail off mid-sentence, forgetting what we were discussing.

All the oxygen whooshes from my lungs, and my head swims.

Bringing my fist up to my mouth, I bite down on one of my knuckles to keep from saying something stupid that will make Tasia uncomfortable.

Sirius knows I’ve already done enough of that lately.

Luckily—or unluckily, depending on the perception—Godric whistles sharply, catching Tasia’s attention. He motions with his finger for her to twirl. Her cheeks flush, but she obliges with an eyeroll, giving him a shy smile afterward.

It sends a bolt of jealousy careening through my bones.

When her eyes meet mine again, she appears to shrink, ducking her head, as if trying to make herself smaller. She fiddles with one of the straps on the dress and keeps glancing down at herself nervously.

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