Page 168 of Crimson Promises
I nodded not trusting myself to form more words.
As I walked away from the billiard table, my mind raced with thoughts. I could feel Lucifer's eyes on me, sending shivers down my spine.
The thought sparked a flame of hope, yet it flickered with uncertainty. What conditions would I need to meet? What price would I have to pay? Surely, there must be more information about this around the castle.
The corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, mirroring the labyrinth of my thoughts.
I paused, leaning against the cool stone wall closing my eyes momentarily. The guard gave me a wide berth; it was the same fuscia one that had interrupted our meal my first night in Hell. The image of Lucifer's gaze, intense yet revealing a depth of emotion, resurfaced. There was a complexity to him that I had only begun to understand.
I couldn't deny he was not the monster I expected. Yet, acknowledging that felt like venturing into uncharted territory fraught with risks and unknown outcomes. Could I afford such a distraction?
I was playing a dangerous game, but I was determined to win. And in the process, I couldn't help but wonder if I was falling into a trap of my own making.
* * *
The day of the ball had finally arrived.
With a breath that carried a mix of determination and apprehension, I made my decision. I would attend the ball, unsure of what awaited me beyond the grand doors of the tower I had been locked away in.
I couldn't ignore the allure of being out of my room, unlocked, free to explore answers. Lucifer’s invitation was both a test and an opportunity.
The question loomed: what in Hell would I wear to this?
Directly across from the writing desk sat a unique, French-style armoire. It was a gorgeous statement piece. Painted in a very old-world style, the muted neutrals were a stark contrast to the sheer opulence of the rest of the room’s decor. However, there was a thin line of gold embedded in the arch of the armoire.
Let’s hope there’s something in here I can wear.
I didn’t think a variation of simple black trousers or A-line dresses that had been laid out on my bed each morning was appropriate for a ball.
As I pulled the doors open, a soft creak echoed through the room. The wardrobe visibly shuttered and whipped its doors shut, forcing me to release my hold on them.
What the fuck was happening?
A feminine, sing-song voice filled the air. “Darling, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
I spun around the room, trying to figure out where the voice had come from. No one was there.
“Ahem, ahem. Over here, my darling.” The wardrobe cabinets fluttered back and forth as if waving hello.
I poked one of the doors. “Is this some sort of trick? Is some demon going to pop out at me?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Well, I’m not falling for it. You’ll just have to find your evening’s entertainment elsewhere.”
“There is no demon hiding inside of me,” she scoffed. “Only exquisite clothes that can transform,” she gave me a shrewd assessing look, “pauper to princess.”
I uncrossed my arms and rolled up onto my toes. Without making any sudden movements, I peered at either side of the armoire. There didn’t seem to be a trick door.
“Truly darling, I am an animated wardrobe, spelled by the Prince of Hell himself,” she proclaimed, her voice filled with pride.
“Oh, alright.” Who was I to judge a talking armoire? The Prince of Hell had faceless servants. Why not have animated furniture?
“Alright? I normally get looks of wonder, praise, and adoration,” she tsked me as if I was a child who had done something they weren’t supposed to. “Nonetheless, I assume you require a dazzling outfit.”
“Yes. Apparently, Lucifer has decided to throw a ball at midnight to celebrate my ‘arrival’ to Hell.”
I swear the wardrobe squealed. All her drawers opened and closed, and she did the flapping movement with her does again.
“What a privilege it is to dress the guest of honor. We must dazzle the Master, Aurora. Bold, primary colors suit your complexion, but you can even pull off purples and clearly green. It brings out your?—”
“How did you know my name?”
