Page 40 of The Coveted
“And you’re rude,” I said, glaring at her.
She rolled her eyes. “Something tells me you can handle a lot worse.”
Very true. I had, and I would.
“I think it’s lovely. Like a children’s story come to life. Or a dream,” Sebastian mused, scratching the light stubble on his chin. He grinned a dimpled smile, reaching for my free hand to kiss it goodbye. His cool blond waves of hair tumbled forward onto his forehead as his lips lingered a second longer than necessary, and then he straightened back up. “You two enjoy yourselves. I can’t wait to see what Clarice fashions for you. Nor can I wait to have your first dance.”
I forced a smile back before following Taryn. He might’ve been cute if not for the whole sleeping with evil thing. He also wasn’t my type.
Daelon was my type.
I sighed. He said he’d be back before the ball, which was only a couple days away now. I wished I’d forced more of the truth about his missions out of him before he left, but he was too damn good at distracting me. I couldn’t help but imagine the worst.
“I don’t know if I’m in the mood for a gown. Maybe I’ll go with some kind of suit instead,” Taryn said, deep in the middle of a rant I hadn’t been paying attention to. “You seem as femme as it gets. I’m guessing you’ll go with something veryprincess-like,” she laughed, raising an eyebrow at me.
“Shut up,” I said, but I mirrored her smile. “Okay, yeah, that does sound nice.” On the other hand, I couldn’t have given less of a shit about a dance when what was left of my people were screaming in the dungeons below the city.
She shook her head. “Figured. Have a color in mind?”
I shook my head. I wondered idly what Daelon would pick out for me if he could. “No idea. Maybe blue?” I recalled the color of the sky in the astrals, a deep blue that was hard to put into words. It somehow managed to be dark and light all at the same time.
“Clarice will help you. She’s awesome.”
“A witchy seamstress?” I guessed. All I knew was that we were on a mission to get outfits for the ball. By what means, I was yet to discover.
“Precisely. She doesn’t have to physically sew, though. She manifests her designs with magick. Right out of thin air.”
Just like the dagger I almost stabbed Lucius with. Ah, happy memories.
“Let me put this away in my room first. I’ll be right back,” I murmured, holding the painting carefully.
Chapter13
Ilet Taryn go first. She stood before a collection of mirrors, and Clarice, the seamstress, chanted under her breath to her right. We were on the same floor as the art gallery, but in a completely different wing. The workshop was an open, airy room accented white and baby blue. There was a grand chandelier in the center, with chairs facing a platform in front of several mirrors. This was where I sat as I watched Taryn veto every single outfit option presented to her.
She wore a simple, black fitted skirt with an off-the-shoulder red blouse, her long dark hair pulled to the side. In the mirror, however, she wore other clothing entirely—whatever Clarice was imagining in her mind’s eye.
“What about something like this?” Clarice asked, her voice heavily accented with something Eastern European sounding. She had tan, warm-toned skin, and appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties. Her hair was bright red and in tight waves that came to her shoulders, and she wore a simply tailored, black pantsuit. Her features were strong, fierce, and striking. She looked like some kind of warrior woman.
“I don’t know,” Taryn continued to stare at herself in the mirrors. “I’m thinking just a touch more feminine, maybe something soldier-chic.”
“Soldier-chic?” Clarice and I asked at the same time, exchanging a bewildered glance and then laughing together.
Taryn raised her hands up in the air. “Am I the only one in this room with vision? Who can see outside the box?”
“Darling, you’re going to have to help me out here,” Clarice said, clucking her tongue. “But you’re right. No one in this room or in this kingdom will ever be able understand what’s in that head of yours,” she teased, shaking her head.
“I want people to look at me and piss themselves with fear. But then at the same time burn with an unquenchable lust. What is so hard to understand about that?”
I snorted. There were few words that could describe what it felt like to be around Taryn. She was… truly unique.
“This?” Clarice tried, still holding back laughter. Unlike the ladies, she actually found humor in Taryn’s antics, which meant that Clarice was on my list of favorites now. Most witches just found Taryn off-putting, no doubt because she refused to pretend or play nice with the nobles she disliked. I wasn’t sure she even had the ability to be anyone other than herself, and I admired it greatly.
Especially as I currently had to hide nearly everything about myself.
Taryn’s reflection now showed a very campy black jumpsuit, billowy at the shoulders but cinched in at her waist and around her breasts. The straps hung decoratively off her shoulders, and golden bangles encircled her arms. Smaller golden rings held the length of her dark ponytail, which was high on her head. She wore tall, golden gladiator heels, which showed through the slits of the pant legs. Her reflection even showed new makeup to match, with a dramatic cat’s eye of black eyeliner, golden, smoky eyeshadow, and dramatic ombre red lipstick that faded to shimmering gold.
“Okay. I now understand your vision. It’s Wonder Woman,” I murmured, standing up and giving a nod of approval to Clarice. “You look incredible.”
