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“It’s clear you know how to dress someone for it.” Pandora gestured to her own gown. “Have your pick of the dresses in my wardrobe. I may be a bit taller than you, but I think you can make it work. Shall I help you dress?”
“My—My lady,” Mera objected breathlessly as Pandora strode to the wardrobe and threw open the doors. She sifted through several bundles of silk before she came across a stunning peach one that complimented Mera’s complexion perfectly.
“Here.” Pandora thrust the gown into the stunned servant’s hands. “It’s fairly easy to do up, and if I recall correctly, it came a little short on me. It should be perfect for you.”
“I—I cannot!” Mera sputtered, her eyes wild with fear.
“And why not?” Pandora placed her hands on her hips. “Do you think anyone will notice? None of these bastards ever look at a servant’s face. Live a little, Mera. You may not get another opportunity.” When Mera said nothing, Pandora sighed and dropped her arms. “The choice is yours. I won’t force you. But if I see you in the ballroom, it will give me such delight to know you are enjoying yourself.” She smiled broadly before striding from the room, hoping and praying Mera would take her advice.
If Pandora went through with her plans, Mera would die, and she would never get the chance to dance at an extravagant ball.
Her heart felt significantly lighter as she left the room and made her way down the hall. Only then did she realize she hadn’t felt this free in…
Gods. She didn’t know when she had last felt this way. And all because she urged a servant to sneak into a ball?
Pandora stopped at the end of the hall, her fingers gripping the banister and tracing the elaborate carvings etched on it. This was what she wanted—to bring joy to those who could not find it themselves. To help those who were overlooked and ignored.
She didn’t want to destroy people. She didn’t want to erase the realms from existence.
The soul within her did. The goddess from before, whose memories she shared. That was what she wanted.
But Pandora was not that woman. She was different. She was her own unique individual.
And for once, she wanted to choose her path. Not because of revenge or trauma or the memories inside her, but because it was something she wanted on her own.
Her chin lifted as she descended the stairs. She would proceed with one step, one choice at a time. And right now, her choice was to enjoy herself at this ball.
So that was exactly what she would do.
* * *
The ballroom was crowded with people dressed in extravagant finery. Thick, powerful magic churned in the air, a result of so many deities filling one space. Pandora took a flute of champagne as a servant ambled past her and downed it in one gulp, letting it burn down her throat and fill her with courage and confidence.
These were the people she despised. The people who had tormented her.
No. The people who had tormented someone else so very long ago. True, Pandora did not like these people at all. They were like Sol—arrogant and oblivious to the needs of others. Utterly infuriating.
But that didn’t mean she wanted them dead.
Her thoughts turned to Sol, and something fresh and hot lanced through her. He’d said he would be here. She had to see him again. Not only to press him about how he’d said her name, but…
But what?
To finish what they had started in the library?
Her stomach churned at the reminder.
No. That wasn’t important. The most important thing was to determine what he knew. If he knew her true identity, then…
Kill him, urged the voice inside her. You must erase him from existence. There is far too much at stake.
Pandora shuddered and closed her eyes, bracing her hand on the wall for support as she gathered her thoughts.
No. She could not kill Sol. As much as she hated him, as much as she longed to make him pay for his ignorance, she could not bring herself to kill him. She had never actively taken a life before. The closest she had come was with Evander.
All she had done so far was unleash death itself and stand by while it did its work. Her hands certainly weren’t clean; she had still let it happen. But it would be so different if she took the life with her own powers. Could she really stand in front of her victim and choke the life out of him? Watch the life leave his eyes as her branches strangled him? If Mona hadn’t turned up at that portal, would she have really ended Evander’s life right there?
“My, my, you do look unwell,” said a smooth voice beside her. “Perhaps the sight of so many people enjoying themselves only makes you more bitter.”
