Page 20 of Dark Reign

She was so meticulous with the brush. I probably wouldn’t have even noticed if theyweresloppy, seeing as how my nails had never been given attention beyond biting them. Fussing over decorating them had never been a priority. If it wouldn’t make me faster or more adequate on a run, I didn’t bother with much of anything, actually.

“Ok, blow them while I start on your hair,” she grinned.

Both wrists were forcibly twisted and bent at awkward angles until my stylist was satisfied, and then the word, “Blow!” was yelled at me again.

I frowned and did as I was told, keeping an eye on her as she circled behind me. The soft rollers she’d put in my hair after washing it were snatched out, taking several strands with them, all while I scowled and grunted.

“What the—? Are you okay, Liv?”

With a sigh, she dug through the case until the item she searched for surfaced—a wide-toothed comb.

“I’m fine, admittedly a bit nervous, but I’m good. There’s just a tiny bit of pressure to make sure you look the part, you know?”

I got it. While some aspects of this were fun for her, others were not. She felt responsible, and I understood why. A large part of this mission coming together relied on how well I blended in with everyone else.

“Well, just consider this my gift to you,” I teased. “You’ve always wanted to give me a new look, so here’s your chance. Besides, I trust you.”

In the reflection of a fractured mirror, I saw a smile. It never crossed my mind that she wouldn’t do her best, so I was completely at ease about this portion of the plan.

I stared at my own reflection next. The night before, Liv had opted to do some of the prep work, a frenzy of tweezing and plucking, so already I saw a change. I looked more refined, more like one of them.

The arch of my brow was just like the women in the magazines Liv scored at the dump. Those were the sources we drew from to mimic what was trending in Ianite fashion. Bold colors, lots of dramatic flair and statement pieces. We set these as our goalposts.

A couple snarls later and my hair was coming together. Liv wanted to leave it down, but I wanted it up and out of my way. So, we compromised, weaving a braid across the front, and pinning it to death until it actually looked like something we did intentionally. The rest fell down my back, in loose waves after brushing out the curls. She had the idea to rub a couple perfume samples through it just to make sure it smelled fresh. We rubbed some on my neck and wrists as well, and then commenced with a head to toe dousing of a spray Banks and Shay concocted together. Infused with mint and eucalyptus—both known to effectively mask our human scent from sensitive Ianite noses—this step was equally as vital as all the other precautions taken as I dressed.

Makeup was next, and that’s where it got interesting. My skin needed to have the same pale tone of the Ianites, finalized with a pair of red contacts we had to barter to score. So, for the cost of three peppermint sticks and a pre-war, vintage coin known as a quarter, my eyes were now the perfect shade of crimson to fit in with the others.

It was all so … strange. As Liv put on the finishing touches, I stared at myself, equal parts impressed she’d done such a believable job, and also a bit disturbed to see myself as one of them.

I couldn’t imagine it, being on that side of things. Pretending was odd enough, but even the thought of giving up my humanity nearly brought me to tears. In fact, they might have fallen if I wasn’t afraid Liv would kill me for making my mascara run—Lord knows I was wearing a ton of it.

Dark-red gloss was smoothed over my lips. After instructing me to purse them together a few times, she brought a pair of lavish earrings from her pocket. Multicolored gems glittered in the light and I knew she couldn’t have scored them on a run.

“We rob jewelry stores now?” I asked, feeling my eyes stretch wide at the sight of them.

She laughed and stared at the pair in such a way that I knew they held value, far beyond anything we could afford.

“They’re old. Family heirlooms,” she clarified. “I’ve somehow managed to hold on to them, thinking I’d one day have a good reason to give them some air. Can’t think of a better reason than this,” she shrugged, pushing my hair back to insert them.

She seemed surprised when I stopped her.

“I can’t accept them. They’re too important to you.”

With a heavy sigh, she pushed my hand aside and continued. After securing the first, she moved on to the next.

“Just look at returning them as an incentive to make it back here,” she teased, dismissing what I knew had to have been a genuinely emotional moment.

It wasn’t clear who they belonged to, or whethershewas even sure who they belonged to, but I knew a thing or two about sentiment in these times we lived in. Any link to the past, to loved ones, was precious.

“You have my word. I’ll be back,” I replied with a reassuring smile.

Her eyes clouded in the brief moment it took her to nod, and then it was all business again.

“Stand, please.” She motioned me upward with her hands.

I did as I was asked and secured a holster around my thigh as Liv crossed the small room. I’d just secured my knife when she reached the gown that hung beside the door. Among the many other frivolous components to these galas, was the Ianites’ propensity to throw themed and color-coded events. Tonight, everyone was expected to arrive in silver, with a Parisian theme for the evening.

The dress—sleek and form-fitting—slipped over my head and my hands went to the waist. I felt beyond out of place in the getup. It was so lavish, elegant; things I had never claimed to be. Beneath it, my skin was marred from too many scuffles and close calls to count. My body was a roadmap of pain and hardship. Among the blemishes, a severe burn to my thigh that healed poorly because we lacked supplies. Every time I was forced to look at it, it served as a glaring reminder of the incident at the apartment building so many months ago. I glanced down at the large scar for a moment, and then lifted my gaze with a sigh.

---