Page 58 of Forged in Flame and Shadow

Lady Naia’s smile widens. “Will you be returning there after your trip, Your Highness?”

I hesitate, not sure how to answer.

“Oh how silly of me,” she says, touching her elegant fingers to her mouth like she’s misspoken. “I heard there’s been some falling out with your aunt. Of course, returning would not be so simple. Forgive me.”

I give her a long stare. The only thing I’m willing to forgive is my own stupidity for thinking this wreathing might go well. It’s clear to me now that Phaia and Desme were right, and Lady Naia has no intention of making nice with me. I turn toward Tira, calling for backup.

“Lady Naia, let me introduce?—”

“Oh good, you brought your own maid,” she says, flicking her eyes over Tira. “I’m afraid with so many ladies to wreath, we’re a little short-staffed at the moment.”

Tira opens her mouth to offer Lady Naia a few choice words, but I get there first.

“This is Lady Tira Holms, actually,” I say coolly.

“Isshe?” Lady Naia smiles. “My apologies, I had been led to believe that Trovian nobles were more…hmm. Well, anyway,” she said brightly. “Let me get you both a drink.”

“What doesthatmean?” Tira grumbles as Lady Naia steps away.

“Nothing, she’s just trying to make us feel insecure,” I shoot back.

“Also,LadyTira?” my friend asks with a raised eyebrow. “When did I get a title?”

“Just now,” I say out the corner of my mouth. “I’ll knight you later. Now shush, she’s coming back.”

The blonde fae swans over, holding two flutes of something gold and sparkling.

“Please do head over to the dressing area when you get a chance,” she says. “I’m afraid I must check on the proceedings,but I have something special organized for you back there, Your Highness.”

Her blue eyes, bright as sapphires, twinkle at me as we take the glasses from her. Then she sweeps away.

“Okay, but what doesthatmean?” Tira whispers more furiously as we wander deeper into the clusters of women. She absent-mindedly lifts her glass to her lips.

“Don’t drink that,” I say, snatching it from Tira and setting both our glasses down on a side table.

“Good thinking,” Tira says to me with a knowing look.

I feel curious eyes dance over us as we wander between the chatting women, the other guests very clearly staring at us while they whisper among themselves. It probably doesn’t help that Tira and I are also still wearing our simple day dresses. Helia had said something about there being a chance to choose a dress for the ball here, but many of the women already seem to be wearing their formal gowns. They look stunning in an array of tight-fitting bodices and huge, flowing skirts, adorned with delicate lace sleeves and sparkling embellishments I think might be real diamonds.

“Look, there’s Phaia,” Tira points.

Relief washes over me when I see the soldier standing with Desme toward the back of the room.

They’re in what must be the dressing area. Racks of gowns line the walls, and women move behind modesty screens, their hands appearing briefly to toss a rejected dress to their servants or snatch a different option to try on.

“I thought you’d maybe decided to skip the ball entirely,” Phaia says when she sees me. It’s odd seeing her out of her soldier’s tunic and pants, but she looks ethereal in a black dress with moons embroidered across it, complementing her silver hair. Desme smiles at us, looking dazzling in a gold dress.

“We’re just waiting for Helia-the-indecisive to finally pick an option,” she says.

“There’s nothing wrong with taking my time!” a voice calls from behind the nearest screen.

“You look beautiful in whatever you wear, my love,” Phaia calls back and rolls her eyes at me. “Have you chosen your dress yet?” she asks.

I turn to look at Tira, only to find she’s disappeared. I scan the space with a hint of panic, then relax when I see she’s already by the racks of dresses, flicking through them with a manic energy.

“They’re all so nice,” she gasps, eyes wide.

“Maybe the green one?” Desme says. “It would go with your cute freckles.”

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