Page 11 of Trial By Fire

I just hope it never comes to that.

CHAPTEREIGHT

CORDELIA

“You don’t have to look so smug, Silva.” I look through the full-length mirror to see her covering her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughter. My feet are already starting to protest the sky-high stiletto shoes that lace all the way up my calves. So, of course, I can’t just kick them off, I will need help to remove them. I take one look at the damn things, and I want to toss them out of the window. Damn it, why did I have to lose my boots in the lake? I think to myself as I shift from foot to foot to take some of the pressure off my toes.

“I’m sorry, Miss Cordelia, but you look absolutely stunning, and your shoes compliment the dress superbly.” Silva is smiling wide as she fusses with the big ass train of fabric trailing behind me. For the second time since I arrived in Celestia, I don’t recognize the woman before me. My hair has been straightened then curled at the ends so it frames my face. My makeup is impeccable, black, gold, and red sparkling eye shadow makes my eyes pop, and instead of a lipstick, she opted for a shimmery lip gloss. I am not complaining about that at all. I am sure my mates will be happy I am not smearing their faces in red lippy tonight. Not kissing them is not an option, it will happen. I don’t have that kind of restraint when it comes to them. But the overall effect is elegant and understated.

My dress is the star of the show, a floor-length high-waisted bodycon gown fits me like a glove. The heart-shaped neckline pushes my breasts up just enough without giving too much away. The entire dress is gathered and tucked with beautiful pleats that continue all the way down to the fishtail style hem and train. The bright red sparkling liquid lamé fabric is lightweight, and it matches my Dragon’s scales perfectly. Oh, yeah, and the damned shoes match the dress.

“Silva, I can’t see the shoes. Why can’t I just go barefoot? Where are my running shoes?” I plead as my eyes start to search the floor for my shoes. She stares at me in horror, her eyes go wide at my suggestion as she struggles to answer me.

“Miss, your train is too long. Your shoes are high enough to keep most of the fabric off the floor,” she says it so quickly, like I won’t argue further with that logic.

“Whose idea was it to make this train so long?” I ask, moving from side to side, checking the length again as Silva stands back and starts fussing with it again. The dress makes a swishing sound as I move, and I have to admit, I kind of like it. I won’t admit it out loud though, especially to Silva.

“Your aunt was very specific about the way she wanted the dress to be made. In fact, I will be your lady-in-waiting tonight.” She squeals with delight, jumping up in down with excitement. I have been so obsessed with my own clothes that I hadn’t noticed how lovely she looks as well. She’s wearing a simple honey colored satin A-line dress that falls below her knees. The bodice is overlayed with lace that climbs her delicate neck and pours down her arms. Her striking silver hair is up in a tight curly updo, with minimal makeup. She is beautiful, and I feel awful for my lack of acknowledgement. Before I can say anything, there is a knock on the door.

Silva quickly rushes over and opens it, revealing my aunt Twyla in a full-on black velvet ball gown. I thought my dress was dramatic, but the way she is gathering her skirts now, she can barely fit through the door. Layers upon layers of black velvet fabric cascade out around her like an upside-down black tulip. Her off-the-shoulder bodice fit snug against her body, with black floral appliques intricately sewn over the top. Her hair is straight, not a strand is out of place as it falls over her shoulders and down her back. She is the epitome of glam goth, and I know that wasn’t her intention, but I love it.

“Wow. Whose funeral are you going to?” I laugh as I watch Silva practically pull her into the room an inch of fabric at a time. My thoughts take me back to the night she took me to see The Magic Flute, and I remember how much in awe I was of the Queen of the Night. Not the signature aria she sang, but the spectacular black dress she wore. Aunt Twyla is her own version of the Queen of the Night. I can’t help but smile at the memory as she finally made it inside of the room.

“My own,” she jokes, but I can see the tightness in her smile, I know something is not right.

“Auntie, what’s wrong?” I attempt to rush over to her, but of course, these shoes are not having any of it. I almost fall on my face; my legs and ankles literally turn in opposite directions to one another. Thank goodness Silva rushes to my side to help. Lady-in-waiting, no wonder she is excited. I will need her just to take a step.

“These shoes are a deathtrap,” I huff as I attempt to stand up straight, balancing on two needle points instead of actual heels to face my aunt, smoothing the dress and letting her give me a once over. She holds her hand out to me, and I take hers easily like I always have.

“You look like a queen,” she says with such pride that tears spring to my eyes instantly. “I love you, Cordelia. Even from afar, know that I love you with all my heart.” I frown at her words as I take a tentative step closer.

“What are you talking about?” Why do I feel like this is a farewell talk that I am nowhere near prepared for?

“It’s only a matter of time before you have to return to Arcadia. I thought I would have been able to go with you, to help you with your magic. But with Celestia being heirless after the treasonous shit Vivyn pulled, I have no choice, I have to stay here.” I swallow back the lump in my throat. I figured that would be the case. I have seen the tension in her face every time Maddox spoke about anything crown related, but I wasn’t ready for her to say it out loud.

“I’m not going right away. We still have time.” I squeeze her hands between mine gently, reassuring her and myself at the same time. “We can spend as much time as we can together until we can figure out exactly what else I can do with my faulty magic. You won’t get rid of me that easily.” Her smile is watery as she tries to hold back tears.

“It’s one thing to be a few miles away from each other, but now we will have an entire Realm separating us.” She takes a moment, searching my face with such tenderness I can feel her love wash over me as she continues. “Cordelia, you are my child. We’ve never been apart.” My mouth hangs open at her words, this is the first time she’s ever called me her child. I never doubted who she is to me. She is the only mother I’ve ever known. I don’t want to be apart from her either.

“We will figure it out, Mom.” I throw myself over the mounds of fabric and hug her, holding on tight. She didn’t give me life, but she gave me everything else that mattered. Calling her mom feels right, and it shouldn’t have taken me this long to say it. Silva hovers between the two of us with handkerchiefs at the ready, crying just as hard as us. We stay this way for a long time until I finally pull myself away.

“Are you ready for Celestia to meet the Queen of Arcadia?” Mom asks me as she dabs at her eyes. I don’t answer for a moment as I try to speak past the lump in my throat. No, I am not ready, but it is time, nonetheless.

“As long as you’re ready to be the next Queen of Celestia?” I tilt my head to the side and smile at her as she takes a long breath in and then blows it as she nods.

“What a pair we make, Delia?” My mother holds out her arm to me, and I hook my arm through hers. Then we both spend the next twenty minutes trying and failing to make it out of the door.

* * *

I’m living life in a fairytale. Is this really my life? At this moment, I almost feel as if I am dreaming. I am going to wake up in my apartment, and this will be something I will write about in my journal. Unfortunately, the pain in my feet is real, so I guess this is my reality. I smile to stop myself from complaining internally for the thousandth time, and the people ahead of us smile back at me in return. They have no clue that under this sparkly dress is a woman who would rather be in jeans, t-shirts, and the fluffiest slippers she could find. Well, I could be in my bed draped in men as well, but the slippers would probably be the icing on the cake.

We stand at the bottom of a grand staircase as we wait to be announced. Large chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and it makes the marble floor sparkle beneath our feet.

The swishing sound of Silva laying my train out behind me is the only sound I can focus on as people dash around us. Trays with drinks and food enter through the side doors as kitchen staff in crisp, clean white uniforms duck and dodge everyone without speaking. There are so many people waiting to go inside, gowns of various colors, men in suits or long robes with metals and charms hanging off them. I can tell Earth has a huge influence on most of the fashion, but there are still some people around us who have chosen to be more traditional. It makes me curious about Arcadia even more. Will my people be like this? Or are they more laid back, and fly about in Dragon form, skipping all the formalities, pomp, and ceremony. No, they are probably exactly like this. A woman can dream, though. I will go for laidback any day of the week if I didn’t have to be paraded around in all the fancy dresses and crowns all the time. Okay, I take that back, maybe a few times a year. I do enjoy checking out the other gorgeous woman in the mirror occasionally. The gorgeous woman being me.

“Delia, I don’t want to know what’s got you lost in your thoughts at the moment, knowing you it could be absolutely bonkers.” Mom laughs, and I can’t help but return the laughter because nine times out of ten, she is right.

“You were trying to talk to me, weren’t you?” I raise my eyebrows in question, and she nods yes.

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