Page 9 of The Illuminated
I let Lucius take me wherever he wanted to go, and after the jump, he lingered in front of me. His eyes searched mine, and when the tips of his mouth turned upward, I knew I’d been discovered.
“I like you better this way,” he said. “Like you were the night of the ball.”
I pulled back my hands.
“Even if you don’t.Yet.”
We stood in Clarice’s witchy seamstress studio, where tall triple mirrors towered around a raised platform, and the fading light of the day trickled in through her newly repaired windows. The chandelier above came to life as she stepped in from a back room, her bright red hair falling in ringlets around her fierce, but striking features. She looked like a woman who’d been through troubles she’d never speak aloud and grew stronger from them. Her aura agreed, twisting around her like sturdy branches in shades of green and brown. Wisps and feathers of multicolored creativity shimmered about, reflective of her gift.
She bowed a quick greeting. “Hello, my King. And the lovely Áine. Here for the dresses, I presume. It’s been an honor to do this work.” Her deep, pleasant voice filled the space, respectful in the King’s presence but nowhere near meek.
I was a big fan of Clarice.
Lucius nodded. “And what good work you do.”
She gave a polite smile, making her way to the racks at the back of the room. “I always knew you were special, Áine. It was so easy to design for you after just that one meeting. I’m sure you’ll be pleased. Hopefully you both will. The pieces are a kind of homage to both your physical and energetic attributes, and of course the King’s divine grace.”
That first part sounded cool, but I wasn’t too keen on the second. She hung them on an empty golden rack on wheels that sat before the mirrors, facing us. I gasped, awestruck. I didn’t think I’d worn anything so extravagant in my life. One gown was midnight black, strapless, with a full skirt and golden shimmers and designs down its front in the shape of rose vines. Another looked like pure melted gold, with tiny straps, a plunging neckline, and material that shimmered with crystals that danced under the light. The final dress was the color of rich champagne with blush accents. It was full-bodied, conservative, and grand, like it was meant for, well, a queen…
Lucius glanced at me. A smug smile worked its way to his lips. “You love them.”
I stopped ogling long enough to meet Clarice’s eyes. “How could I not? Thank you.”
She smiled, but I could see something strange buried in her aura, bright and elusive as if hidden from me intentionally. I wanted to dig for it, but I could feel Lucius’s stare and thought better of it.
“I’ll have servants deliver them for you,” Clarice said. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
I opened my mouth to say no, but Lucius beat me to it. “Actually, I want to see her in one. The golden,” he said, gesturing.
I inhaled, surprised. A servant entered, carrying a glass of shimmering golden elixir, and Lucius met my eyes.
“For you.”
I hesitated, knowing full well how I reacted to the distracting witch drug. I lost sight of my anger, my sense of self, my deep wells of pain, and my sense of control… and now that I thought about it, maybe Ididwant that kind of escape. Maybe I even needed it. Because right now, as much as my rational mind fought and pleaded with me to be strong—I no longer wanted to think about my own death, nor what it meant for the decaying magick of my people and the disintegrating dimensions. Especially not what it meant for Daelon. What it meant forus.
I wanted to think about dresses. I wanted to think about nothing at all. And so, when I found myself raising my glass to Lucius as he watched with a cool mix of shock and fevered anticipation, I felt my mind instantly succumb to the sweet, sweet void. The taste of crisp green apples, sugar, and tartness met my tongue, and it tasted like a delusion powerful enough to drown in.
“Now wear your pretty dress,” he whispered, his face close to mine as his eyes danced.
I handed him my unfinished glass as something intense brewed between us. There was so much power in the room, like a flood of unlimited possibilities.
“Fine. But you don’t get a free show,” I said, emboldened by the warmth that blossomed in my stomach and began to spread through my veins.
He raised his brows. “Oh?”
Clarice looked nervous now, a poor unwilling voyeur in a strange game between the two most powerful witches in the realm. She helped me onto the platform, the dress of melted gold delicately hung on her arm.
I shot Lucius a defiant look, and chuckling, he turned away from us. The usual chill behind his laughter was missing, leaving only light-hearted humor in its wake.
“If I really wanted to see you nude, you’d know it,” he purred. “And at that point, I doubt you’d resist.”
Clarice cleared her throat, and I shot her an apologetic look. Lucius’s commitment to his arrogance was truly admirable. Even still, my heart picked up. I wasn’t sure I liked the turn our teasing had taken. No amount of elixir would ever be enough to mask my instinctive revulsion.
“There you are,” Clarice said. Her careful hands finished securing the dress in place on my skin.
The material was much lighter than I’d expected, hanging to my curves effortlessly. I watched as my green eyes widened in the mirror, my lips slightly parted. I twisted and turned, admiring her incredible artistry in the shimmers and decadence. My copper hair appeared more reddish in contrast, and the gold in the dress highlighted the warm, golden tones of my skin.
Suddenly Lucius was in the mirror next to me, his cool hand on the exposed skin of my back. With the wave of his free hand, a crown of my own appeared in the reflection, and I had to feel my head to make sure it was merely an illusion. It was delicate and golden, fit for the goddess of spring and summer.
