Page 14 of How to Claim A Shadow King

A blue and black dress flies out, and I screech as it slaps me in the face, ribbons writhing all along my torso as I fall onto my ass.

I blow a piece of fabric out of my mouth and stare at the confectioner’s dream of a gown.

“I suppose I don’t get to pick what I wear tonight,” I amend. A ribbon butts up against my cheek like a pleased cat.

“That’s disconcerting.”

The ribbon droops, which makes me feel like an ass. Wonderful. Now I’m feeling chastised by a scrap of fabric.

Sighing heavily, I roll onto my stomach, pressing myself up on my elbows. I take a moment, scrubbing my hands over my face, at a near-total loss at how to even begin to comprehend the absurdity of my current situation.

“Bath,” I say, the decisiveness of my voice surprising me. “Nothing a little hygiene won’t fix.” I’ve been traveling for days, my back hurts from the rocking of the carriage, and then I was shoved into this… well, whatever the hells this situation is.

Dusting off my hands, I force myself upright and stalk into the bathroom.

Which, by any measure of taste, even mine, is gorgeous.

A glossy mosaic of blue and black and gold peppers the entire room, floor to walls to ceiling, and it takes me a moment to understand that I’m looking at a detailed rendering of the night sky. Constellations in brilliant gold shine amongst the blue and black tiles, the tiles growing lighter, softer—until they fade into golds and yellows around a circular window that looks out over the garden. A sun.

There’s something familiar about this room, about the sunken tub just beside the large window, about the golden fixtures and the scent of lavender rising from the steaming water. Like a dream half-remembered on waking, fading into a feeling of surrealness in the light of day.

I turn automatically to close the door, the handle warmer against my palm than it should be, my other hand going to the cabinet where I know the thick cotton towels are kept, where I know I’ll find the lavender goat’s milk soap I like.

My hands pause over the wax and twine-wrapped soap, unease shifting through me. Despite the warmth of the room, goosebumps rise all over my arms.

Which are also likely filthy.

“Nice of you to stock my favorite type of soap,” I say to the house over the noise of the filling tub, retrieving the towel and soap and an armful of fragrant oils.

I need to get clean, and I’m being ridiculous.

Where else would the supplies have been if not in the bathroom cabinet?

I’m clearly tired, in need of a warm meal and a long night’s sleep.

It’s just unfortunate this meal will have to take place in Malakai’s presence.

6

AVELINE

The dress is, in fact, even prettier on me than it was on the hanger. The ribbons themselves are brushing my hair and pinning it into a complicated updo.

I’m trying very hard not to think about it too much.

Ter has let himself into my room and is studying me with one dark beady eye from the ornate vanity opposite the four-poster bed.

“I can tell you’re judging me,” I finally say, dipping my finger into some rose-tinted balm and dabbing it on my cheeks.

“Of course I’m judging you,” Ter blinks. “What else would I be doing?”

I sigh, then decide to ignore the raven as best I can.

Which, unfortunately, means I’m watching the ribbons on my dress do my hair. Disconcerting, to say the least. And just like that, the talking raven is much more appealing.

“Well, do I pass muster?”

“You passed muster the moment you were written into the fabric of the Wild Oak Woods,” Ter says.