Page 59 of Forged in Flame and Shadow

Tira blushes and nods, taking a closer look at the dress Desme pointed out.

“And what about you?” Phaia asks me.

“I suppose I should go look…except Lady Naia said she had something ‘special’ for me?”

Both the fae women’s faces fall.

“Oh shit,” Desme says.

“What?” I ask, my panic spiking at their reactions.

“It isn’t done very often, but sometimes a host will pick outfits for certain guests to wear.”

“Can’t I just wear one of those and tell her I’ve chosen already?” I say, pointing to the dresses.

Desme’s already shaking her head. “Not if you don’t want to get disinvited from the ball entirely.”

These fae and their bloody rules.

Tira’s back beside me now, holding her pretty green outfit. “Yikes. That harpy’s probably going to put you in something monstrous,” she says.

Disappointment weighs on me, but my panic, at least, settles. Naturally, I wanted to make a good impression to the fae court—okay, I wanted to look good tooneperson in particular—but in the grand scheme of things, a dress is a silly thing to worry about. However hideous it might be, Leon’s bound to have seen me looking worse, after all we went through during our travels in Trova. Plus, I’m here to help distract Tira, not for myself. The way she’s happily clutching that green dress now gives me hope that she’s feeling at least a little more cheerful.

“So she’ll put me in an ugly dress,” I say with a shrug. “That’s hardly the end of the world.”

I get the attention of one of the attendants in palace uniform. “Excuse me, I believe Lady Naia left a dress for me?”

She nods. “I’ll go fetch it, Your Highness,” she says, and I wonder if I’m imagining her look of sympathy before she leaves.

I wait by the screen nervously. Helia finally decides what she’s going to wear and emerges looking sophisticated in a deep purple outfit while Tira tries on her green gown. She looksgorgeous in it, and I see the sparkle of pleasure in her eyes when we all tell her so.

But when the attendant returns, my happiness for Tira is drowned out by shock. Lady Naia’s cleverer than I realized. Putting me in something hideous would’ve been obvious sabotage, and that’s not her style.

No, it’s worse than that.

“That’sa dress?” Tira breathes as the attendant hands it over. “It’s just a few scraps.”

I hold up the deep scarlet outfit. It’s not ugly, but it looks like there’d be barely enough fabric to cover my behind, let alone the rest of me. Heat climbs up my neck at the idea of wearing it.

“Are you sure there isn’t another part to it?” I ask the attendant, who just shakes her head and apologizes.

“Why don’t you try it on?” Helia says weakly. “It might not look so bad once you’re in it.”

I slip behind a screen, and what follows is a wrestling match as I try to wriggle into the garment. Luckily, most of it seems to be made of silk, which makes it relatively easy to slide on despite the tightness. When it’s on at last, I look in the mirror, and my horror rises a few notches.

Most of the dress is made up of two pieces of scarlet material, the front draping into a deep cowl neck, leaving a large stretch of skin exposed between my breasts. Panels of delicate, almost sheer lace join the two pieces together on either side, hugging my ribs, hips, and thighs, leaving nothing to the imagination. There’s no way I can even wear underwear in this thing.

I run my hands nervously over the front of the dress, the material slippery under my fingers. The only saving grace, I suppose, is that all that training at the Lyceum has toned me up a bit, making previously soft parts of my body stronger and firmer. But that doesn’t mean I want them on display like this.

“Come on out, Ana,” Tira says. “It can’t be that bad.”

I step out from behind the screen and see three sets of eyebrows shoot upward.

“Oh gods,” I say, covering my face with my hands.

“My, Your Highness, don’t you look a sight,” comes a smug voice. I look up to see Lady Naia standing in the dressing area, a triumphant smile on her face. Several other fae women turn at her words, and when they see me, I’m hit with a wave of judgmental stares and whispers.

My face feels like it’s burning up, but I try to get my flush under control, lifting my chin. I won’t be cowed by this woman, not when shame is exactly what she wants from me.

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