Page 77 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
A genuine smile stretches my lips. I can see why Fox spoke so highly of Styx. I bet those two get up to mischief when together. I can’t wait to be a part of it.
“It’s comfortable,” I answer with a shrug, earning nervous laughter.
Peablossom’s blue hair bustles through the crowd and into the front row before me. She mimes for me to tug on Bodin’s shirt laces and swings them down and out at the sides. Then she taps her head.
“Are you well, Lady Peablossom?” Puck scowls down at her.
“Oh—” She laughs nervously. “Just reminding our dearest confection to smile.”
Puck narrows his eyes at her. I’m already smiling, so I don’t think he buys the excuse. When he turns back to me, she widens her eyes and points again to the dress where the laces would be.
“Pull the laces,”Styx explains, mind-to-mind.“And wish for a fancy dress.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
I grin widely at Puck’s sardonic face, my heart pounding so hard I’m sure everyone can hear it. What am I doing? But there’s no backing out now. With a deep breath, I swing the laces in an arc, wish for a fancy dress, and silently pray I’m not about to make a complete fool of myself.
A hot, prickling, burning sensation in my hair. I almost think the acorn is on fire and pull it out, but then magic shimmers around me, like a thousand tiny fireflies dancing across my skin. I tense at the sudden sensation, the air around me crackling with energy and the scent of ozone. Peablossom mimes for me to tug the laces again. When I do, it’s like I tug Bodin’s shirt clean off my shoulders. But in reality, his clothes transition into a gown woven from twilight. Stars glimmer across the bodice, and a cape of shadows trails behind me. My hair lifts off my neck and twirls into a magical updo. I can’t see it, but from the gasps echoing around the ballroom, it’s either horrifying or beautiful.
Even Puck looks momentarily stunned.
“Behold,” Peablossom announces, “the true face of our trials—beauty rising from adversity!”
Impressed murmurs grow loud. A chorus of applause breaks out amongst both exhibitors and attendees. Puck recovers quickly, his smile turning mocking. “How . . . quaint. A new dress. Is that all?”
Peablossom’s eyes widen. “Oh, she’s not done. She worked on this next part for days, didn’t you, Willow?”
I stare at her blankly, secretly about to soil my pants. “Sure.”
With another flourish, Peablossom gestures to the crowd. Suddenly, Bodin’s work clothes materialize on someone else—Glen. The rotund, curly-haired ‘Trixie-pixie’ fae beside Captain Sorrel.
“Oh!” Glen exclaims, examining his new attire with shock.
Then, one by one, each Radiant and lesser nobility in the room suddenly wears a copy of Bodin’s black work clothes. A hush falls over the crowd. Everyone turns to Glen, the Court’s unofficial arbiter of humor and revelry. He sizes me up, I guess, working out if he approves. Then, he tips his head back, bellowing a laugh so hard it shakes his curls and belly.
The crowd erupts into raucous laughter, the sound vibrating the floor beneath my feet. When Puck calls for silence, the noise drops to an excited chatter. The mood is well and truly elevated as Puck faces me, his expression a battlefield of warring emotions—impressed, annoyed, and something darker, more dangerous. His eye twitches. His voice drips with sarcasm as he asks, “And how, if you would be so kind, did a Nothing achieve such a marvel? Or should we be asking who’s really pulling your strings?”
Peablossom stares at me, her smile tense. I lean toward the resonance stone, my mind racing, my eyes darting all over for inspiration.Wit, beauty, and just a touch of chaos.
I shrug and say, “Glen made me do it.”
The ballroom explodes with guffaws and cheers. Glen, ever the performer, looks mildly surprised at first. But when he realizes he’s been given the credit for this magnificent stunt, he takes a dramatic bow, and the applause grows.
I hike up my new ballgown and exit off the dais. With Peablossom’s help, I’ve inadvertently positioned myself as notjust a powerful magic user but as someone who can play along with the most beloved prankster in Avorlorna. I hope that wasn’t a mistake.
Peablossom rushes over, knocking the gentry out of the way with her giant skirt. She takes my shoulder and tugs me to the side, eyes gleaming. “You were spectacular,” she gushes.
“You mispronounced ‘you.’”
She blinks. “Did I?”
I laugh. “You should have said ‘I’ becauseyouwere spectacular.”
“Oh no, dearest, I mispronounced nothing.” A coy look crosses her face. “You’re the one who thought to bring such a precious adornment for your hair.”
My hand flutters up to test my new do. My fingers land on the acorn. A spark zips into me, and I gasp, eyes wide, then snatch my hand back before anyone notices.
