“May I come in?” Nyssa’s voice echoes from across the room.
I can see her from where I’m sitting as she comes through the door.
“I’m in here,” I call out.
“How are you feeling this morning, my lady?” she asks, thendisappears from my line of sight as she carries what looks like a dress over to my bed.
If I’m honest, I slept more deeply than I expected. I’m not sure how or why. I doubt I even turned while I drowned in dreams I can no longer remember. But I woke up thirsting for dragon’s blood. His.
“How does a prisoner usually sleep in this place?” I reply, then finish rubbing the scented oil onto my skin before I wrap myself in a towel and join Nyssa in the bedroom.
“My lady, you are our guest here. Not a prisoner.”
“Can I leave?”
She blinks once, as if I asked a stupid question. “No.”
“Case in point,” I reply and point at the dress laid out on my bed. “What’s that?”
“Your attire for this morning’s breakfast,” Nyssa says with a soft, polite smile. “Lord Daynthazar instructed me with regard to your favorite color…”
I stare at it for a bitter moment. The dress is white—long, flowing, embroidered with blue roses across the chest. Greek in its drape, almost ceremonial. The shoulder straps are solid gold, wide but delicate, filigreed with impossible precision. They probably weigh nothing, but the sight of them feels heavy enough.
“White and blue are not my favorite colors,” I tell her flatly.
Nyssa blinks, clearly thrown. “Lord Daynthazar insisted that I select?—”
“Dayn is a dick,” I cut in, sparing her the trouble. “Those are Heathborne colors. He did this on purpose.”
The realization burns as it settles in—I’m sure it’s a deliberate taunt. A reminder that he always sees straight through me, past every mask and layer of defense. Just like at Heathborne, he instantly saw my true colors.Always one step ahead. Always in control.The thought alone makes my blood simmer.
“Oh,” Nyssa pauses, glancing at the dress for a long, awkward moment. “Clearblood academia, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Precisely.”
“And you’re a darkblood. The very opposite.”
“Indeed.”
“The world above has gone crazy.” She sighs deeply and smoothens a crease in the dress.
I shoot her a look. “It was crazy long before you and I were even born.”
“True, but I’ve read the histories of the world,” Nyssa says. “Of eons past, of a balance that should be restored. Could be. Someday. There was no division between the people, long ago. There was peace.”
“Until someone discovered how much power they could amass by hurting others. I’m pretty sure your people started the first wars… Anyway, I’m not wearing that,” I say, the words clipped and final.
Nyssa’s polite mask falters, a flicker of genuine alarm in her eyes. “My lady, the dress was chosen for you by the prince himself. To refuse…”
“Is what, an insult? Good.” I stalk past her, the towel clutched tight. He wants to play games, fine. But I won’t be his doll, dressed up in the colors of my enemies. “Find me something else. Something black.”
Nyssa looks pained. “There is nothing else prepared on such short notice. The breakfast?—”
“Then I’ll go naked,” I snarl, turning back to the dress. An idea, dark and satisfying, begins to form. My shadows answer the call, coiling around my fingers. Maybe I don’t need another dress. Maybe I just need to… redecorate. With a flick of my wrist, a tendril of darkness lashes out, dyeing the blue roses a deep, defiant obsidian.
Nyssa gasps softly, taking an involuntary step back.
“It’s either this, or I’ll go to this meal wrapped in those crimson sheets and tell everyone the prince has a particular fondness for the bedding.”
