Page 32 of The Light Falls
I walk over to Allandra and link my arm with hers. “Let’s go find an outfit.”
Tiernan is on guard this afternoon and walks us back to my room.
Allandra leans in and whispers, “Is he a Fire Fae?”
Leaning away, I answer clearly. “Tiernan is my personal guard, and his allegiance is to me.”
She shakes her head. “You mean his allegiance is to the crown.”
On the verge of correcting her, I stop. Sometimes it’s better to keep your secrets close. “This is my room.” When she goes to walk in, I stop her. “Tiernan will check it first.”
She scoffs. “I highly doubt anyone is hiding in your room.”
I ignore her and wait for Tiernan’s signal. “It’s clear. The closet is to the left. I’ll ask Eris to get us some drinks.”
She steps in and winces. “What type of wards are these?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“There’s a darkness to them,” she murmurs. “Sorry. They make me feel a little claustrophobic. Would you mind opening the window?”
With a flick of my finger, the doors to the balcony open and the room floods with light. “Better?”
Her face is still looking pinched, but she nods and heads into the closet. Following her in, I watch while she runs a hand across the hanging clothes.
“Simply gorgeous.” She picks up a pair of sunglasses and tries them on. “What do you think?” Not waiting for my reply, she moves on to the dresses.
“Lorn’s taking you to a show at the theatre, then to an incredible restaurant for a late dinner,” she informs me. Swiftly sifting through the dresses, she pulls several and hands them to me. “Let’s start with those and see if any of them work.”
Back in the bedroom, I look over each one as I hang them on the rack. There’s a soft pink silk dress with a pleated skirt. A baby blue halter neck dress. The third one is a yellow silk dress with spaghetti straps. I check the other two dresses in my arms—lavender and light green. Every single dress is pastel and would look gorgeous on someone like her.
“Which one will you try on first?” she asks excitedly.
I turn around and find Eris setting drinks down on the table. “Thank you, Eris.”
With an imperceptible wave of my hand, I place a piece of smoke chocolate in front of her. The way she tilts her head to study the candy tells me she’s never had any. I’m not surprised. It’s a specialty candy only made in the Underworld. An envy demon family makes it. They use smoke to infuse wonderous flavors, like black truffle honey, dark chocolate ganache with clea chilis—the hottest peppers anywhere—or vintage AB cabernet which includes the finest reserve blood. They have specialty chocolates for every race. Wonder what they offer for Fae? Faery dust?
I wave a hand over my body and try on the blue halter neck dress. Unused to seeing the color on me, I swivel to the mirror. It completely washes me out. Not wasting another second, I switch it out for the pink silk dress.
“Wait. Did you not like the blue?” she asks, a tiny line between her eyes.
“It looked terrible on me. If you want the dress, you can have it,” I reply, switching the pink for the lavender. “None of these are going to work. Pastel colors really aren’t my style. Most of them wash me out.”
She immediately looks down at her hands. “Sorry. I guess I didn’t realize. Lorn is a romantic, and I want you to look perfect.”
Taking in a deep breath, I find my patience and force a smile. “The closet is full of clothes. I’m sure we can find one romantic dress that works for him and me.” I grab her hand and pull her back to the dress section.
I grab a short skater dress with spaghetti straps in a dark green. “How about this one?”
She laughs. “That’s not the least bit romantic. There.” She grabs a maxi dress in white with colorful flowers on it. “Beautiful. Romantic.”
“Too daytime,” I say, rejecting the dress. The red dress I vetoed for the party catches my eye. “This one.”
Her nose wrinkles, but I completely ignore her and put it on.
It fits like a dream. Strapless with layers of sheer material that flow from my chest to my knees in an asymmetrical high-low pattern. What makes the dress interesting and sexy is the ombre color and movement of the dress. The burgundy top lightens to a red, and when you walk, the fabric flows around you, making the dress look like a living flame. Or the tips of Rivan’s wings.
I take it off and place it on the rack. “You’re right. This is too much,” I concede, unwilling to examine why I don’t want to wear it for Lorn. Quickly exchanging it for a short, strapless fuchsia dress with delicate beading laid in a horizontal pattern, I twirl in front of her. “What do you think?”
