Page 20 of A Lie so Pretty and Poisonous

I turned to pivot and head back to the rooms, but voices from the first floor caught my attention. I slowly edged to the top of the staircase and looked down to the main floor. Guards rushed through the halls and into the glittering foyer.

Three men, bloodied and bound in silver shackles, were surrounded by palace guards. I took a soft step forward to take in more of the room just as a large seraph, dressed in black, strode into the fray of the group. He took slow and purposeful steps around the shackled men, looking them up and down. I wasn’t under the weight of his scrutiny, and yet the hair on my arms stood on end. He was formidable in size and build, but the dim light and distance from him didn’t afford me the ability to make out any of his features. Whoever he was, I wanted to stay clear of him at all costs.

A guard stepped out of their circular formation. “Captain Reynault. The militia members we found in the city.”

“Where?” The captain's deep voice growled out.

“Near the armory, sir.”

The captain nodded. “Take them to the dungeon. We will question them at first light. Dismissed.”

The guards dispersed, and the prisoners were led through the stained-glass hallway I saw when we first arrived. The formidable seraph stood stiff as bodies moved around him. I realized that I had moved out of the shadows in my interest to eavesdrop. I shuffled backwards, and before I could turn and move back down the hallway, Captain Reynault lifted his head, tracking up to the east wing of the third floor. I hoped the shadows covered me enough, but he seemed to stare right at me before he turned and stalked out of sight.

I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until that moment, and I moved as fast as I could back down the hallway and into the room with Cora still fast asleep.

If I had struggled to sleep before, it was nothing compared to how wide awake I was now.

Light pink chiffon and gold trim flowed in delicate waves to my feet, encased in gold slippers. Anya pulled the pink strings of the corseted bodice taut, enhancing my breasts, minimizing my waistline, and cutting off my air supply. It was an unspoken demand of women to be subjected to such torturous garments, so we became nothing more than pretty curves and a few words. Fiery comments and witty remarks that burned on our tongues were temporarily muted when there was no air to feed them.

This dress was particularly vile because it was pink. I hated pink—my mother’s chosen color for me. She believed that if she could make me look like one of her delicate roses in her garden, I would act like it. But roses have thorns, and every time she forced me into the color, it would piss me off. My points only sharpened at her requests, resistant to her demands. After a few years of intentionally ruining all the pink clothes she bought me, she gave up and moved on to other avenues of making me compliant. Yet here I was, willingly enduring pink without complaint because voicing my disdain wouldn’t make me any allies.

Anya finished her lacing and pulling, tying the silk into a bow at my lower back. “There. All ready to have breakfast with the commander and then meet King Torrish and Queen Mollah in the throne room. You look lovely.”

“Thanks,” I accidentally replied dryly. I blinked and righted myself into the noble role I was to play. “Cora looks stunning. That color is beautiful on her, and you did an amazing job with her hair. Her curls have never looked better!” Cora twirled in her emerald-green dress, puffing the skirt. Her curls were defined and sprang with each step she took.

Anya pointed up to her own head of curls. “I have a lot of practice.” A soft smile appeared genuinely on her face.

My frizzy waves were tamed in twists and braids resting at the nape of my neck. Anya applied makeup to my face, something I hadn’t done in years. With a final look in the mirror, I hardly recognized myself. Staring back at me was the noblewoman I spent a lifetime running from. I fluttered my darkened lashes and pressed my pink-stained lips together. I could be considered pretty by human standards, but the standards were to look and be like everyone else.

“All done, my ladies. We should get you down to breakfast soon. The commander waits.” Anya closed a gold compact of rouge and smiled at me in the mirror.

“I’m starving. Do you have pancakes here? I really want pancakes.” Cora tilted her head.

“Cora, manners.” I reminded.

Anya giggled. “I am not sure what that is, my lady, but I promise there will be many delicious options to choose from,” she stated as she tapped Cora on the nose. Anya’s demeanor was friendlier and warmer this morning. “Let me put away my supplies, and I will lead you down to the great hall.” She left Cora and me in the sitting room.

“Cora, hand me my satchel, please.” I pointed to the ground beside her. She plucked the worn leather bag from the smooth marble and passed it to me. Her inquisitive hazel eyes watched intently as I pulled out an embroidered handkerchief neatly wrapped around something that unknowingly held importance to her. One of the few items I packed for the escape. An heirloom—Cora’s family heirloom. The only thing I had left of Micah.

I let the handkerchief fall open to reveal a gold pendant hung from a chain. The heirloom had a beautiful engraving of two crossed swords with what looked like a feather underneath them. Micah wouldn’t tell me much about it other than that it had been in his family a long time. He gave me the pendant a week before he left, which solidified us as family. It took me three months to come to terms with the fact that Micah was gone, and on that day, I took off the necklace and placed it in a drawer for safekeeping. I couldn’t look at it anymore, much less wear the constant reminder of what we should have grown into. Discarding it wasn’t right, and I felt Cora should have it to wear.

Her eyes widened as she took the gold pendant with one hand, dangling it in front of her curious face, staring at the engraving. “It’s so pretty, Mom! What’s it for?”

“It is for you, my love. Your father gave this to me a few days before he left. It is a family heirloom. I am not sure how many generations it was passed down, but—” Cora thrust her arms around my waist, and I stumbled backwards. The pink chiffon rustled as we moved.

“Thank you,” she whispered, still clutching the pendant in her hand.

I wrapped my arms around her and laid my rouged cheek on the top of her head. “You’re welcome, sweet girl. I hope this helps you feel more connected to him. I know he would want you to have this.”

She squeezed tighter before abruptly letting go and handing me the pendant. “Will you put it on me?”

“Of course.” I swept her curls to the side and placed the pendant around her neck, fastening the chain. It hung low on her chest, and she tucked it beneath the top of her dress.

“Are you ready to leave?” Anya asked as she entered the sitting room.

I nodded, and we all moved for the door, my mask of nobility and refinement firmly in place.

Breakfast with nobles went exactly as one would expect it to go. They barely acknowledged me, dressed in their finest snobbery. Gabriel was the only one who spoke with me. His demeanor slid back to gentle, friendly, and questionably flirtatious. That garnered a few sideways glances from noblewomen at the table. Like any demure noblewoman, I made sure to only speak in turn, which wasn’t much at all. The only positive was that they gushed over Cora. I briefed her before breakfast on what to expect and how to act. Though she was a child, she would still be expected to behave with a certain decorum. At least, she would be at home. She dazzled, and both men and women took turns telling Cora stories or listening to her animatedly describe her friends, school, or life with unfeigned interest. It was shocking for the nobility to be so involved with a child. In Edenalee, the nobles felt children should be seen occasionally and never heard.