Page 180 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

Glacier-blue gossamer draped over my form as if he’d had it made precisely to my specifications. The beading was so intricate I wasn’t entirely sure how they’d managed it without snagging the delicate fabric. An elegant V plunged nearly to my navel, while embellished fairy-wing sleeves—nearly translucent—hung off both shoulders.

It made my eyes look electric, my tan skin somehow porcelain-pale.

I would’ve loved it if it had come from any other man, under any other circumstances.

As it was, my chest ached for the hell we were all enduring at his behest. Something so beautiful, irreparably tarnished by the hands that bestowed it.

My magic put the finishing touches on my hair—a coronet feeding into a chunky fishtail braid down my back.

I stared into the vintage gold-framed mirror, torn between awe and outrage. Awe, because even in hell, I somehow felt beautiful. Outrage because it was for him. On his orders. Because with the world at war, standing here in a gown while good souls died felt obscene.

“Exquisite.”

My gaze snapped to Adrastos, studying me in the mirror, while my hand flew to the ruby between my breasts—the only part of the ensemble that didn’t fit.

“You picked it. You would say that.”

“My taste has always been impeccable.” As though he’d slipped through my shields and read my mind, Adrastos stepped forward. My entire body froze when his fingers found the chain around my neck. Shadows whispered across the links, the softest caress over my skin, before gently sliding the necklace away, stone and all. I sucked in a breath, shoulders loosening in its absence.

My relief was short-lived. With a flick of his hand, tendrils of shadow coiled around the stone. My eyes widened as distressed silver solidified within the darkness, warping and curving beneath the magic pouring from his palm. When the mist finally dissipated, an antique brooch sparkled there—the ruby set at the center of a clustered motif of diamonds. Four teardrop rubies balanced the delicate design, but Adrastos only scowled at it. Mouth agape, I watched him wave his other hand over the piece until a comb appeared along one side.

Then he smiled.

The weight of that smile hit like a punch to the solar plexus. Because it felt real. Felt like him. Like the arrogant bastard who argued with me over paint samples and celebrity-designer wall placements. The same satisfaction he wore after winning a bet—wagers I now realized had been damned from the start, given his gifts. I swallowed, trying to tamp down the burn at the bridge of my nose, while his magic drifted away on a phantom breeze. Then he lifted the hairpiece and gently tucked it into my braid.

“There,” he breathed. “Nearly done.”

“Nearly?” I squeaked, spine going rigid as his heat pressed against my back. Calloused fingers traced my collarbone, then my shoulder, while his other hand appeared in front of me, opalescent earrings dangling from his palm. On a shaky breath, I asked, “Why?”

“They match perfectly.”

I whirled, staggering back a step, heart racing as my eyes snapped to his. He kept his hand extended, expectant.

“No,” I whispered as he took one slow step forward with the confidence of a predator stalking cornered prey. “Why this? All of this. I don’t understand. Days ago, you told me not to be seen, and now you want me on your arm and—bedazzled.”

“Bedazzled?” he echoed, amusement lifting his brows.

“Answer me.” I was officially out of patience for Adrastos and his games.

He held my gaze for a long beat, then closed the distance and lifted the earrings. “May I?”

“Not like I get the luxury of making my own choices,” I muttered as he unclasped one.

“I heard that.”

“You were meant to,” I ground out, batting his hand away when he moved to slide it into place himself. With a huff, I snatched the earrings from his palm and stepped toward the other mirror, desperate for distance. “Answer me.” Though it pained me, I softened my expression. “Please.”

He leaned against the vanity beside me, arms crossed, head canted as he studied me.

His eyes finally dropped to the floor. “Let me tell you the tale of The Beast, The Stag, and The Fox.”

“I didn’t ask for a fairy tale, Adrastos.”

“Believe me, this is far from one. Think of it as a cautionary affair, if you will.”

“Great.”

“Are you capable of silence or must I gag you to ensure it?”