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The Heart’s Curse

Page 13

by Stephanie Hudson

The selection alone was enough to overwhelm me.

Silks, velvets, delicate embroidery, intricate beadwork, enough fabric to clothe an entire royal court hung neatly before me. Every dress looked beautiful. Every dress looked expensive. Every dress looked as though it belonged to someone infinitely more graceful than me.

And unfortunately, the sight of them also revived a particularly unhelpful train of thought.

Who exactly had they belonged to?

The question appeared before I could stop it, and I immediately hated myself for asking it. After surviving the Labyrinth, crossing the Badlands, fighting in a war, and nearly being stabbed in the throat, this was apparently what my brain chose to focus on.

Wonderful.

Determined not to think about it any further, I selected the plainest gown I could find. Unfortunately, even the plainest gown still looked like something designed for a princess.

By the time I attempted to put it on, I quickly discovered that owning a dress and understanding how it worked were apparently two very different things. Which meant that I was currently trying to determine whether a particular ribbon belonged around my waist or was purely decorative when Lia quietly stepped forward.

“Would you like some help?”

The answer was obvious.

“Please.”

To her credit, she was remarkably polite about the fact that I had managed to tangle myself into what appeared to be three separate sections of the gown at once. Within minutes, she had loosened the fabric, adjusted the layers, and guided me into the dress properly before tightening the corseted back with practiced ease.

I tried not to complain. Mostly because she looked far too pleased with her handiwork, despite my ribcage protesting.

“Would you like me to brush your hair as well?” she asked.

I smiled and shook my head.

“That’s okay, believe it or not, I’m better at brushing my hair than dressing myself.” I joked, earning a small smile from her. Then she hesitated for a moment before tilting her head slightly and asking me,

“Are you a warrior?” The question caught me so off guard that I laughed.

“I’m not sure, what’s the alternative here?”

Her brow furrowed before she elaborated, “You mean as a guest here?” I nodded.

“Well, the only female guests are usually those of noble birth or warriors”

That earned an immediate snort. “Then I’m definitely the warrior.”

Her gaze swept over the dress before she confessed, “I’m not entirely convinced.”

“Trust me,” I said, tugging awkwardly at a sleeve. “I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.”

The laugh that escaped her was genuine this time.

By the time I finally turned towards the full-length mirror, the woman staring back at me barely looked familiar. The grime of battle was gone, my hair hung clean around my shoulders, and the pale blue gown transformed me into someone who looked as though she belonged within the walls of a fairytale palace rather than on a battlefield.

The strange thing was that I wasn’t entirely sure which version of myself felt more unreal.

“You look beautiful,” Lia said, her eyes sparkling.

My gaze lingered on my reflection for another moment before drifting towards the door.

Towards everything waiting on the other side.

Towards Atlas.