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“I would be honored.”
So much for disentangling myself.
Chapter 33
Viola
Tulipwasunhappywithme when she awoke. Her frustration stemmed from a combination of concern for me wandering the city at night alone and jealousy that I didn’t bring her with me.
“What did you two even have to talk about?” she asks, helping herself to the generous spread of fruits and bread Mace had brought us this morning.
Around a mouthful of grapes, I say, “We talked a bit about magical hierarchies, and then he just asked me a bunch of questions about myself and my childhood.”
“Oooh, he likes you!” Tulip squeals, reminding me that she is very much eighteen years old. My grunt of acknowledgment doesn’t deter her. “I’m just saying he has taken an interest in you. Was it a date?”
I picture the Summer fae, his scruffy beard and gorgeous red hair, the dark tattoo that snakes up his neck from his shirt collar. I admit to admiring his obvious strength, those large arms and a foreboding figure that could crush many threats, in contrast to how the men of the Lowlands look.
There was a moment when our hands touched, but I felt nothing.
“It wasn’t a date. Maybe we could be friends one day, now that I’m not worried about friends being killed in the Race, but I am still too skeptical of everyone in Ytopie to think further than that right now.” It will take a lot of reconditioning to remind myself that I am no longer going to Race and can potentially have normal relationships.
But I’ve never been normal.
Tulip snorts, rolling her eyes as if my words are the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. “I want to explore Ytopie, and you went without me!” she pouts, switching focus so quickly my head spins.
I gesture towards the stack of clothes a fae had dropped off for us this morning. “Then get dressed, let’s go exploring!”
Tulip dresses in a thin petal pink jumpsuit and ties the straps across her chest. The legs billow out around her sandal-clad feet, and her shoulders are bare to the sun. The chiffon fabric is rich and expensive and perfectly tailored to her form. She looks every bit the flower of her namesake with a strap of trailing green ribbons snaked through her hair.
She shoves her hand in her pockets and spins around. “This is SO comfortable! I’ve never seen anything like it!”
Her unabashed joy for nearly everything warms my soul after so many trying days.
For me, the fae had dropped off a dress of black and silver. I have never worn a dress in my life. “Wonder why I couldn’t get pants,” I grumble, primarily to myself. I briefly consider putting on the pants and blouse from yesterday but decide against it.
I slide the dress over my head, its plunging neckline shocking me. The collar is wide, with sleeves resting upon my upper arm and trailing to my wrists with gauzy fabric. The plunging bodice is laced with a string of silver so fine it’s hard to believe it’s metal. The dress is surprisingly heavy, and as I lift the skirt to view it, I see silver metal weaved throughout, a pattern of frost across the bottom. Tiny shorts are built in under it, fitting closely to my skin and allowing me to strap my blades along my thighs.
All things considered, the dress feels comfortable and practical, albeit heavy. The weight may take some getting used to.
I slip on the boots from yesterday and turn to Tulip to gesture to leave. She looks at me, slightly slacked-jawed. “You look like a proper lady there, Lola. No one is going to recognize you at all.” I put my hand over my heart, exaggerating the wound her words caused.
“Just one thing,” she continues, rushing towards me. Her hands are in my hair, which I pulled high up behind my head. She takes it down, twisting a few pieces around my face and then pinning them behind like a crown. “There. Now you look like the royalty you were born to be.”
I roll my eyes at her but can’t help feeling warmth at her words. “You think too highly of me, Tulip.”
Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that we’re grieving. She came to me just as her brother and Max died right in front of us. We both have traumas from the Race we have yet to begin to process. Tulip doesn’t know, but the reason I left in the night last night was because she cried for her brother while she slept. If I stayed, my own grief threatened to bubble over.
I clear the thoughts of those we lost from my head. If I focus on the loss, I may never be able to function. And I need to move, to live. Max would have wanted that.
Tulip and I tentatively climb the stairs from the basement into the halls of the Palace of Patricians. All around us, fae bustle about, calling to one another and laughing in a way so normal it sticks in my throat. The smell of roasted nuts fills the air, and as I turn to look for them, I run smack into Mace Nightroot.
His hands grab my shoulders to prevent a further collision, and I feel the heat rising to my face. “Miss Mistflow,” he purrs quietly.
“Viola,” I correct, warmth radiating from his touch.
His pointed smile is just for me, bright green eyes locked on mine. “Yes, yes, Viola. Nice to see you out and about. What are your plans for the day?” I look at Tulip, who shrugs.
“We didn’t really have a plan. Just wanted to see the city.”
