Page 22 of When Wishes Bleed

“I accept the invitation,” I said. The moment the words left my mouth, Fate released his grip on me and I took several restorative breaths.

Courier Stewart, who’d politely been pretending not to listen to our conversation, turned to me. “Have you gathered what you’d like to take with you, Miss Sable?”

Beyond the Courier, I saw two men hefting a large trunk onto the back of a carriage. Four more waited for them. They were discussing how to arrange them. “Whose trunks are those?”

Mira clapped her hands together, wringing them with a look of pent-up excitement on her lips. “Mine. I am to dress you.”

“Dress me?”

“Oh, yes. Bay insists you represent us in style,” she beamed.

Why would Bay care how I dressed?

Her eyes traveled from my head to my toes, causing her nose to wrinkle. “You aren’t planning to wear that, are you?”

I looked down, smoothing my fingertips over the simple fabric of the best dress I owned.

She waved me off. “I have just the thing.” Mira ran down the steps and threw open one of the trunks that hadn’t been moved. She rifled around inside and pulled something out. Something poufy. Then she plucked out a pair of matching heels.

Royalty might require poufy, but, “I prefer my boots!” I yelled to her.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she replied breezily, jogging back up the steps. She shoved the pair of shiny heels into my hands. “Trust me.”

Clutching the shoes against my chest with one hand, Mira used the other to pull me farther into the house, dragging me into the first bedroom we came to, and swiftly helped me change. The girl was a small tornado of energy.

I stood in front of the full-length mirror and sucked in a breath. “This is beautiful.” I wore an impeccably tailored, black riding jacket that fell to my hips in the front, but cascaded to the backs of my thighs in the back. Underneath, layers of white ruffles spilled down in soft waves. Mira had added a pair of tight, black pants, and when I slid my feet into the perfectly fitted heels, she squealed and clapped her hands.

“You are so beautiful! You don’t even need make-up, and your hair is like silk,” she fawned, combing her fingers through the strands and placing them over my shoulders. “You look like you already belong at the palace.”

I gave her a look of warning. I belonged in this House.

I wasn’t going for some silly, romantic reason. I was going to help the Prince, to find out who wanted him dead and hopefully prevent their plan from coming to fruition. Nothing more. Didn’t the Circle explain that to her?

Mira said she’d give me a minute to center myself and left the room. Why did Mira make such garments, and for whom? They fit me perfectly, as did the shoes. I wiggled my toes in the pointed tips and twisted my leg to see the back. Situated on the heel was a thin, silver dagger. Most would assume it was merely decorative, but it looked real. I slid the small blade from the sheath built into the heel, grateful that Mira had armed me.

Glancing at my discarded dress on the floor, I immediately felt better that she was coming along. She was far more adept with current fashions than I was. If she watched the royals on the telecaster, she’d know how I needed to look to fit in, and fitting in was the only way I would be able to remain at the palace long enough for Fate to reveal the would-be murderer.

The wishbone revealed that Tauren would die, but it didn’t reveal exactly how. I couldn’t sense the person behind the malice yet. And until I did, I would have to join the gaggle of moony-eyed girls vying for a scrap of the Prince’s attention.

I smoothed a hand down my stomach, glancing at the mirror and admiring the way I looked in the coat and pondering whether it or the heels were my favorite.

What…? My breath caught. For a moment, I could’ve sworn my reflection shifted. I blinked, then waved my hand in front of my body and watched the mirrored me move the same way. Shaking off the strange sensation, I turned and headed toward the door to join the others.

In the living room, Brecan waited with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his cloak. He turned at the sound of my heels clicking on the wooden floor and his eyes widened. His mouth parted, and he sucked in a breath before quickly schooling his features. “Are you ready? Your trunk has been loaded. Though I’m not sure the horses will be able to pull us and all our luggage,” he laughed.

“You don’t have to escort me, Brecan. I know it’s awkward.”

He dropped his head. “It doesn’t have to be. I volunteered to escort and protect you. Ela demanded a male witch go, to send a strong message that we stick with our own.”

It would send no such message since I already accepted the Prince’s invitation, but of course my grandmother had to push her will on me in some way. I just hoped Brecan understood that I still wouldn’t choose him to be hand-fasted to when I returned.

“What if we aren’t back by the Solstice? You want to hand-fast this year.”

“It can wait. This is more important,” he answered.

“How is Ela?” I dared ask.

“Quite frail, Sable. If you wish to see her…”

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