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CHAPTER NINE
LILY - MIA
My hair is more primped than it's ever been in my life. But it’s my wedding day, so that’s probably normal.
I'm desperate to get out of this room and search. Rasmussen's gotten impatient. I don't like how he does things. He seems to have dirt on everyone, or leverage or both. He squeezes people to get what he wants.
In this case, the Nightshade family behind bars.
Get your head in the game, Lily!
Rasmussen wants the evidencebad.His messages are more and more insistent. I feel the anger building on his end, like I’m not holding up my part of the deal.
But how am I supposed to find evidence when there are no less than four sprites flitting around my hair at once? The little glowing men and women, each small enough to fit in my palm, buzz along on wings like dragonflies. They grab strands, chitter to each other in their sprite language, and trade pins and hairspray to get things where they want it.
In the mirror, my hair is lesshairand morelandscapingat this point. Cinderella and Snow White wish they could have this hairdo. My normally drab blond hair is curled into golden ringlets that somehow shimmer like real gold wires. It's like they've gilded my whole head. Leaves and flowers are woven into it, until every time I move, it's like a huge floral arrangement on my head moving with me.
After what feels like an hour, they look upon what they’ve made with satisfaction. Olivia and I are alone. Finally.
"All right," I tell her. "I'm going out there to snoop around."
"On yourwedding day?" she asks, incredulous.
"Yeah. The way I figure it, it's perfect. If anyone catches me where I'm not supposed to be, I can play it like I'm lost. Meanwhile, no one will stop me from going anywhere because I'm the bride and they'll figure I'msupposedto be going wherever I'm going. Who stops the bride to ask her what she's doing? I just have to act busy and flustered."
"You don't have to act," she says, drily. "You look plenty flustered. What are you looking for?”
“Well, I know how they’re bringing in drugs through those illegal portals. I just need to learn what else they’re bringing through. I saw Soren taking the paperwork from the demesnes in Faerie, so he must’ve brought it back here. If I can find those records, I may have everything I need.”
“Good luck,” Olivia says, drily. “I’ve kept my eye out for a records room and I haven’t found a damn thing. You’d think there’d be files somewhere. I know my father is pretty cagey about his files, but hehasthem. And he has them in his house. He wouldn’t trust them anywhere else. That’s how Rasmussen got him, he got a spy in our house.”
Olivia suddenly looks furious at this nameless person. I wonder again what Rasmussen has on her. It must be something awful.
And I feel pretty crappy knowingI’mthat person for Fabien and his family. Olivia must’ve realized what she said, because she smiles suddenly.
“I mean, this is different. You’re like a reallycoolrat and I like you.”
“Thanks…I think.”
“It’s sort of a compliment. If you’re going, you’d better go.”
I check myself in the huge mirror. The green dress I'm wearing isn't for the wedding ceremony, but more like a pre-ceremony dress. It's one of the fanciest things I've ever worn and it fits me loosely, while somehow also hugging every curve.
Whenever I move it gives hints at my body beneath it, which is fully nude.
I didn'twantto be nude under such a thin dress, but the Fae dressmaker assured me it was how it was meant to be worn. After a brief kerfuffle, where I tried wearing it with a bra and panties, I had to agree with her.
It lookedawfulwith underclothes on. But now, if someone were to sneeze in my direction they'd see my hard nipples and maybe my labia, if they're lucky. The dress just flows over my skin like emerald water.
And if the sun hits it? Yeah, I'm staying out of the sun.
Which is fine, because no one ever hid evidence in a sunny place.
I pop out the door and make my way down the hall. At first, I'm scared shitless my hair will fall over like a crumbling sandcastle, but it holds up.
It holds upcrazywell. Those hair sprites really did a number on it.
The halls are bright with all the curtains thrown open. The normally dour looking oak clad walls shine with fresh polish. The sconces flare with white flames that dance and make just the slightest sound like little bells. Sprites buzz from sconce to sconce, trimming wicks and polishing the crystal facets.
