Page 28 of Upon the Riven Throne

Mireille only then noticed the woman standing near the bathing chamber door. “So you were all three just… waiting for me to wake?”

Noal set the tray on a bedside table and gave her a meaningful look. “You’ll need to be rested for what’s to come.”

When he quit the room, Mireille looked to Thomas, who only shrugged. “You know as much as I.”

Kin frowned at them both, but made no effort to communicate additional information.

Mireille picked up a piece of toast, but her stomach turned, still haunted by the dream. The prince had thought she’d been in league with the queen and had still brought her into his home. For what, she didn’t know. Perhaps to get closer to the queen. Perhaps something darker. Her gaze lifted to meet Thomas’s, desperate to share what she had learned. But his gaze was on Kin. And Kin’s was on Mireille’s hand where it clutched her dressing gown.

A quarter hour later, Thomas was gone and Mireille was chin-deep in a hot bath, the prince’s words running through her mind again and again. Kin placed a stack of towels and a jar of oil on the small table beside the tub. The door to the bathing chamber eased open and Kin absently lifted a foot to press it closed. Something low and dark wandered in, vaguely catlike, but before Mireille could even register it was not feline, the creature shifted to a woman around six feet tall. Kin fell back, knocking into the table and overturning its contents. Mireille darted up to help, slipped on the oil that had coated the tub edge, and splashed water across Kin and the floor. She cursed, wiping at her stinging eyes.

Nisha sneered down at both of them. In a simple cream gown that draped her body perfectly, she looked every bit a princess of fae, even if she had only moments before been a mink. The entire weight of her distaste turned on Mireille. “Why aren’t you ready? I need time to work.”

“You?” Mireille choked.

Nisha rolled her eyes, then made a gesture at Kin. “Get her dried off.” She gave Kin a full once-over and shook her head. “The both of you.” With a flick of her skirts, she strode out of the bathing chamber, making a feline-like huff of disgust.

Mireille locked gazes with Kin. Whatever was happening with the ball, it seemed Mireille was not the only one uninformed.

A quarter hour later, Mireille sat before a vanity table and small gilt-trimmed mirror, her silk dressing gown decorated with a delicate pattern of swirling vines and flowers. Kin ran a brush through Mireille’s long locks as three fae women in simple staff garb looked on. One held a comb and assorted hair pins, another a sewing kit, and the third was apparently in charge of gowns.

Nisha snapped her slender fingers, then pointed at the gowns. The woman rushed to grab the first where it had been draped over a rack, then held it forward for Mireille’s inspection. She repeated the process twice more, each of the gowns deep cerulean and soft, supple fabric, but varying styles.

Nisha said into her ear, “It’s his favorite color.” She backed away and gave Mireille an appraising but somewhat disappointed look. “I’m not certain it will suit your hair. How do you feel about feathers? No? Understandable.” She patted her shoulder. “We will figure something out.”

In the end, Mireille was forced to try on all three gowns, and the group eventually settled on one sewn of the softest silk, with a high neck and detailed with delicate vines in a slightly darker shade of blue. The same vines crawled down the sleeves of the dress, ending in embroidered foliage near the wrists. It was a fae gown, through and through. Mireille had never worn anything like it, but even Kin nodded her approval.

The dress was removed, adjustments made, and Mireille was bustled back to the vanity where her hair was pinned and twisted into an elaborate form. Mireille met Nisha’s gaze in the curved mirror. “Are you going to tell me what you’re up to?”

Nisha’s grin was wicked. “If anyone knows how to truly tempt a fae male, it is me.” She held a palm out, and the woman with the hair pins handed another over.

“Why would I need to temp a fae?”

Kin dusted color onto Mireille’s cheek, distinctly not meeting her eyes.

“And why are all of you conspiring against him?”

Nisha made a sound in her throat, not unlike the dismissive sound her brother favored. “Careful, princess, for you’re making it sound as if falling for you might be to his detriment.”

Mireille caught the gleam in Nisha’s eyes, but Kin’s fingers trembled as she applied lotions and creams. The two seemed to be working toward the same goal but, possibly, possessed entirely different motivations. Nisha, Mireille thought, was giving her the appraisal of someone taking pride in their well-trained pet.

“There,” she said. “Just one final touch.” And Mireille was dabbed with the light, fresh scent of orange oil.

CHAPTER11

Nisha and the fae ladies departed, and Thomas was finally returned to Mireille. He slid his hands into his pockets and stared openly at what they had done. “Well,” he said. “That’s quite a statement.”

She raised a hand to her hair, delicate gold vines woven through, and lifted a softly curled tress away from her face. “I look like a queen.”

“No question.”

“It’s the prince’s favorite color, apparently.”

“Solid choice.”

She fiddled with the accents on the high neck of the gown. “Should we leap out a window and run for the hills?”

He grinned. “Probably. But you know how I love a ball.”

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