Page 75 of Taking Jenny
Discord nodded, completely unfazed. “Come now. You can do it.”
“I really don’t think I can,” I whispered, but I wasn’t just talking about the dress. The upcoming night had my stomach in knots.
“You’ve trained for nine days,” she said. “You can do this.”
I jammed my hands on my hips, knowing I was being stubborn. “You said you were bringing me aweapon.”
“Thisisa weapon,” she insisted, holding the dress higher. “Wear it, and you will slay the court.”
I stared at the abundance of deep purple folds, along with the overwhelming amount of fabric. “It’s so…poufy. And dark.”
“You’ll look like a princess,” she insisted. “Like in your Earth movies.”
“I’ll look like agothprincess,” I muttered. “And those aren’t exactly the kind of movies I watch.”
She huffed in exasperation and thrust the dress at me. “Just put it on.”
Disgruntled, I reluctantly took the dress and shut myself in the bathroom for privacy. It took me forever to struggle into the dress, and even longer to look at myself in the mirror.
When I did, I had to blink twice. Because somehow, under all the dramatic tulle and deep purple silk, I looked…regal. Intimidating. Like I’d stepped out of a fantasy where the princess saves herself, and possibly shanks a duke on the way out.
It was unsettling, because I didn’t feel powerful. I felt like a scared girl in over her head, dressed up in elegance and lies. But the truth of the matter was, comfort had no place in what tonight demanded of me. Not when my survival depended on how well I played my part.
It had been two days since the balcony incident. Two days of avoiding both Mal and Tiger like they were live wires—burning, humming, too dangerous to touch. They were two sources of massive confusion, and I did not need that, so I’d buried myself in training and dancing instead, and Discord took that as devotion. She’d since adopted me as her personal project and had taken me under her wing in preparation of the Illiapol Ball.
The ballgown was deep purple with a black lace overlay. The neckline dipped low, skirting the edge of indecency without crossing it. The fitted sleeveless bodice clung to me, while alace panel exposed most of my back. I’d never worn anything this dramatic. My sisters had wanted big weddings, with ornate dresses so they could feel like princesses at the start of their new lives.
I had to wear one at the end of mine.
Shaking off the morbid thought, I called out, “Discord, a little help?”
She entered and stopped in her tracks. “You’re beautiful.”
“I can’t reach the zipper.”
She stepped forward to close it, then caught my gaze in the mirror. “We’ll braid your hair up. We want your back bare.”
“Why?”
“I want every person at the ball to lust after you,” she said, a wicked smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I want them to ache with regret. Let them loathe themselves for allowing Illiapol to continue. Let them hate you because you make them want you while knowing they can’t have you.”
Well, okay then…
“Sit,” she said, pointing toward the vanity area. “I’ll braid your hair.”
I obeyed, trying not to crinkle the massive layers of tulle as I lowered into the chair. “What are you wearing tonight?”
“Something that will piss off the court.”
I laughed—an actual laugh, not the nervous kind I’d been living on the past few days. “Of course you are. Why antagonize them?”
Her fingers were already in my hair, separating strands with brisk, confident precision. “Because I can.” Her voice was defiant, but I didn’t miss the undertone beneath it. Anger, old and buried deep.
She didn’t elaborate, and for a while the only sound was the whisper of my hair sliding through her fingers. Then her gaze met mine in the vanity mirror, eyes steady and too perceptive.
“Tiger and Mal will be at the ball tonight, as well,” she said. “You’d do well to manage your emotions when it comes to them.”
“I’ve been doing that for two days,” I said in a wry tone. “I’ll be fine.”
