Page 41 of The Coveted
“Haven’t the faintest idea who or what that is, but thanks, lovely.”
I certainly did, and that was definitely who she embodied right now. It was breathtaking. She stepped down from the platform, and the mirrors once again reflected her actual appearance. In her hands now rested the outfit, conjured from thin air by Clarice just as promised.
Clarice clapped. “Finally. Your turn, Áine. Dresses are my specialty.”
I took a deep breath and faced the mirrors. My long copper hair was down to my chest now, but not nearly as long as Taryn’s, and my green eyes looked more tired than usual. I had a hard time sleeping not knowing where Daelon was or what he was being forced to do.
I stared at the glass curiously, dissecting its magick. It was connected to Clarice, like it was an extension of her gift, and thus, herself. I reached out toward it with my own magick, like a reflex.
“What are we thinking?” Clarice asked, but her eyes flashed confusion for a moment.
“Deep blue,” I said. “I’m not sure how to describe it.” I concentrated, remembering the astral sky, and the shade of blue that was somehow bright and dark at once. It was like an otherworldly navy, the vast emptiness of space as it collided with stars and other celestial bodies. What would that look like on a dress?
“I—I’m sorry. I don’t understand…”
I focused back to reality, gasping as I took in the vision in the mirrors. Their reflection no longer showed me wearing an olive-green skirt and white blouse. They now revealed an incredible ball gown—one that was as close to otherworldly as it got in this dimension. It had a full-bodied dark blue skirt with intricate embroidery of sparkles and shimmers that mimicked the splendor of the cosmos. The skirt glimmered as I twisted my body this way and that, imbued with an energetic imprint just like the paintings in the gallery. It was like looking into the sublime itself. The dress embodied a feeling that couldn’t be named—the recognition of the vastness of the Universe, and how tiny humans and witches were in comparison—and yet we were all interconnected, all bound together by threads of connection, creation, and love.
I nearly yelped in surprise as my hands now clutched fabric. In the mirror my appearance shifted back to reveal the skirt and blouse that I was actually wearing. The dress I’d imagined now manifested in the physical realm and was draped over my arms. It was pure creation, just like on the astral plane. This time though, I felt exhausted, overwhelmingly drained. Manifesting the gown had sucked a great deal of my power, especially since it was not my natural gift.
“Clarice! Holy hell, you’ve outdone yourself.” Taryn shook her head, as mesmerized as I was by the dress.
Clarice stared at me, her jaw unhinged. “But I didn’t…”
“Thank you,” I blurted. Clarice hadn’t done a thing. It had been all me, and I wasn’t sure how to explain that fact. “I don’t know how I will ever repay you.”
Taryn’s forehead creased in confusion, but Clarice and I locked gazes. Awe and confusion swam in her eyes, but soon a trickling of understanding fell through the cracks.
She nodded, slowly. “It was nothing, truly.” She cocked her head, her hand on her mouth.
“You all right, babes?” Taryn asked her, looking from her to me. Realization struck her features, and I let the vision in the mirror dissipate. “The painting, and now this…” she murmured.
I shook my head, throwing her a look. I couldn’t have any more witches beginning to understand just how out of place I was here. Not after the incident with the servant, or the marble statues, or anything else. It just wasn’t time.
“You have multiple gifts?” Clarice asked.
“No,” I said quickly, my tone too harsh. Shit.
Taryn snapped out of her awestruck daze. “It’s okay, Áine. Clarice would never say anything.” She looked to Clarice, who nodded emphatically. Her energy was more prickled with confusion than anything else. “She’s just quite powerful, you see. That’s why she’s here serving the King.”
“No, of course. I know how the nobility can be, my dear. And the King, of course, is a jealous King, bless him. Not to worry. It’s just… the dress. You must wear it, please, I insist. It gives a feeling like nothing I’ve ever felt. I don’t understand it,” she blabbered, still staring at the gown in my grasp. “Blessed be the King for allowing you to inspire me so. To inspire us all, I imagine.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, so I simply beheld her with deep gratitude and said, “Thank you. This was truly from your gift. I just…borrowed it, for a moment.”
She shook her head. “That wasn’t from me, dear.”
A wave of exhaustion tore through my being, and my eyes suddenly grew heavy. Last time I’d manifested something in the witch realm I’d slept for many hours. I didn’t fully recover for days.
“I need to rest,” I told Taryn. The clock was ticking before I passed out completely. I’d have to clean up this mess when I awoke.
“Oh, okay. Let’s get you to your chambers, then.” She eyed me, concern overwhelming her features as I stumbled.
It was at that moment, of course, that Christine, Renata, and Jasmine entered the room. Their eyes went from Clarice to Taryn before landing decisively on me.
“What in the heavens is that dress?” Jasmine asked, her eyes widening as she stared at the gown in my arms. “Wow.”
“Áine, darling, you don’t look so good. Have you fallen ill?” Christine said, her aura prickly and dense.
Renata’s gaze was unwavering. “Anyway, like I was saying. Daelon agreed to take me to the ball last night.” Her voice was unnaturally loud, cutting through the room like a blade—a weapon designed for me specifically.
