A lackluster lie for me to choke down.
Unease settles heavy on my shoulders ...
“And why not?”
He turns a little, barely catches my eye, and shrugs. “People have seen more than enough. You’re off the hook. Congratulations.”
His words hammer that final nail into my coffin lid, plunging all the way through my soon-to-be rotten corpse, leaving me doused in dread.
Then he leaves.
Iwork tirelessly, pinning long sections of hair into golden rosettes that sit high atop my head. Fitting the final piece into place, I tame loose tendrils around my face, completing the bouquet hairstyle that’s far too regal for my liking.
But it fits the mold—makes me look like a High Master’s ward would be expected to look.
I hope.
I glance down, ensuring the pendants resting between my unbound breasts aren’t obvious beneath the sheath of blood-red material.
Poor Tanith. I think back to the moment she came to collect the gown, only to find a naked mannequin and me, claiming to have condemned the dress to a watery grave during my visit with Kai this morning.
The lie slid off my tongue, and I’d felt a twinge of guilt when she paled, claiming she’d been ordered to retrieve it. But not enough for me to fetch it from beneath my mattress and hand it over.
Not once has Rhordyn offered me an easy out, which means he’s purposely trying to keep me from the ball. Perhaps he thinks Cainon will poison my mind, but blinkers are bracketing his eyes, and he can’t see that Cainon’s theantidote.
I’mthe antidote.
He’s going to toss me out eventually ... it might as well be in a territory that hasn’t been invaded by Vruks yet.
I pop the cork off a jar of lip lacquer I made from ground-up rose petals, scented oil, and a bit of lard. Women at the Tribunal often wear red on their lips, so I figured I’ll blend in if I do the same.
Claiming a paintbrush, I draw a deep breath and look to my pale reflection.
Tonight, this mirror is not my enemy. Because tonight, I’m not the Orlaith who’s spent the majority of her life hiding behind a make-believe line, using Rhordyn as a shield.
Tonight, I’m somebody strong, composed, and resilient.
“Strong, composed ...resilient...”
I dip the tapered bristles, steady my hand, and stain my lips red with delicate precision. The color makes my lilac eyes pop and is the perfect tone to compliment my dress. But more importantly, it makes me look like somebody else, and tonight, that’s exactly what I need.
A mask.
Next is a smudge of kohl around my eyes, turning them smokey and mysterious. I even use a sharpened stick to draw a line of it above my lids that flicks out beyond the corner.
Vision complete, I let the stick fall to the vanity.
I look so confident and majestic—nothing like the woman who broke down in the gardens yesterday. A pretty, sacrificial offering dolled up just enough to draw that pair of clippers Rhordyn was so intent on warning me against.
It’sperfect.
Pushing to my feet, I smooth the material hugging my legs before retrieving my shoes off the bed.
The heels look like oversized thorns, and I have almost a hundred and fifty stairs to descend. With that in mind, I decide to put them on later rather than risk cartwheeling to the base of Stony Stem and breaking every bone in my body.
Stressing the limits of my tight dress, I edge down the tower in increments, one hand tracing the wall while the other grips my shoes and hem, every step announced by another bitten word.
Strong.
