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“That would be against the rules.”
“I need no reminding of that.” Exasperation filled his voice and I nearly smiled to hear it. At least I drove him as crazy as he made me. A better person wouldn’t be pleased about that, but I wasn’t a better person. I was only myself.
“I’m just afraid,” I whispered.
“Of me?”
“Yes.”
“Am I so terrible?” He sounded…something. Wounded. Weary.
“You could be. How do I know you won’t be my destruction?”
“This is why we must wed. Once we do, you’ll understand. Your fate will become mine.”
“And vice versa.”
“Yes.”
“That takes a huge amount of trust. What if I’m wrong?”
“Are you never mistaken?”
“I wish.”
“Good.” Though I couldn’t see his face, I heard the smile. “Then your wish will come true. Sleep now.”
Amazingly I did, falling into a deep, untroubled slumber, the sight of his black silhouette at the window obscurely comforting.
*
In the morning,Starling woke me with a cheerful warning that I needed to hustle to be ready in time. The light seemed dim. I gazed up at the sky, to find it white. No—full of snow. Shrugging into my robe, I went to the edge of the dome and found the moat billowing steam in the frosty air. Dragons—dozens of them—wheeled circles in the sky, dive-bombing snowflakes and each other in a playful dance. The meadow of Stargazers, the blossoms standing out like sapphire jewels against the shimmering snow, provided the only other color in the landscape. Even the castle itself had been frosted with ice.
I couldn’t decide if it was a good omen or a bad one, so I let it go and went to take the bath Starling ordered me into.
She worked on my hair with the help of two maidservants, creating an impossible tower of it. Their presence spared me having to converse with her, though she occasionally leveled me with an assessing look. In the background, her worry over Fergus and Blackbird crackled like a radio between stations. I had nothing more to offer her than she did me. So, almost as if by mutual accord, we behaved as if getting my look just right mattered more than anything else.
By the time they’d finished, I looked like a dark-haired Marie Antoinette. The image was helped along by a corset worthy of that era, sapphire blue and silver whirls decorating it, the tight lacing lifting my bosom. Thankfully Nancy intervened and made them leave the lower part loose, to give my belly room.
It seemed to have grown every time I looked at it and I wondered if the dream hadn’t come from the child, anxious to escape the confines of my body.
Starling gave me leave to do my own makeup, but watched closely, directing the process. Blacker, thicker lashes. Redder, glossier lips. Whiter, smoother skin. I drew the line at changing my eye color to blue to match the dress, even though she pouted.
The platinum-silver pattern on the left side of my face also could not be changed.
They dressed me in lace drawers—would Marie have called them pantalets?—and then dozens of silk petticoats and underskirts. The silk nymphs had done their work well, creating shimmeringly translucent leaves of skirts in all shades of blue and silver. They layered over each other, creating a vision of depth, of azure summer skies and ghostly moonlight at once.
At least it wasn’t white.
The final overdress looked like brocade but whispered light as air. A deeper blue than the rest, it seemed to float as I moved. A long train of broad sapphire and silver ribbons trailed behind me. I donned the blue lily necklace to match the earrings, which I’d never removed. I’d kept the diamond ring too. All a sign that I’d never truly thought I’d get out of this.
Maybe that I hadn’t really wanted to, despite my fears.
I’d thought about it, though, in my fantasies of escape. The dragon’s field would release the earrings and I’d leave it all in a little pile on the tower for Rogue to find. Just as I’d left my belongings behind at Devils Tower, in the mirror to this castle.
Darling Hercules, resplendent in a sapphire-jeweled collar someone had fashioned for him, led the way down the winding tower stairs. The others had to hang well back so as not to tread on my train. Served Starling right. I went slowly in the high-heeled blue leather boots, tooled in whorls of silver that matched the ones on my face.
Where the stairs widened at the bottom, opening into the great hall, Rogue waited for me. Resplendent in matching blue and silver—of course—he looked gravely serious. He’d braided his hair, so it hung down his back, woven with ribbons that matched mine and studded with jeweled stargazer lilies. The horseshoe stud I’d made for him glinted in his ear. His eyes, both deeper blue and more glittering, fastened on me. I caught a whisper of relief from him, before he shut the doors on his mind.
