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“The dressmaker finished Lady Elara’s wardrobe,” Lucifer grunted roughly. “And since the Daemon Lords are arriving today, I thought it wise to wake you early. She will need some…” he paused, looking me over and pursing his lips as if he found me lacking, which I’m sure he did, “assistance with her attire.”
Carnon grumbled irritably as an army of what I presumed were ladies’ maids curtsied politely to me and began fretting over my hair and makeup and clothing.
“Please,” I said, gesturing to the gaggle of women for silence. “I can dress myself. And do my own hair. I really don’t need any help.”
“You heard her,” Carnon growled, meeting Lucifer’s eye with a scowl. “Ladies, please hang the gowns and leave.”
“Thank you,” I called after them as the maids left the room in a cloud of whispers and tittering and bobbing curtsies. Lucifer stomped after them, looking irate.
“Gods above,” Carnon groaned after he had shut the door on what must be half the palace staff. “I may need to fire Lucifer. He goes too far.”
“I don’t think doubting my ability to look presentable is really a fireable offense,” I said offhandedly as Carnon flicked through the new dresses the maids had hung, grinning when he stopped at something black and silky looking.
“I suppose not,” Carnon said, pulling the dress out of the wardrobe and tossing it to me. “But waking me at dawn definitely is.”
???
To call the garment that Carnon suggested I wear a “dress” was extremely generous.
After he used the bathing chamber and we had both eaten, I set to work in the bath, washing my hair and skin and thinking through the spells I might use to be ready for my first meeting with the Daemon Lords.
When I emerged, hair still damp and wrapped in a fluffy towel, the gown was hanging on the wardrobe door. Carnon offered to help me dress, and I threw a pillow at him, making him yelp and duck out onto the balcony. As I put the thing on, I realized I actually might need his help after all.
The “gown” was barely more than some loops of silky black fabric strategically sewn together. Once I figured out how to get it on, I gaped at the cut of the dress. It was floor-length, but a long slit cut all the way up my leg on one side, almost to my hip. The front of the dress wrapped around my torso, leaving far more of my stomach and breasts exposed than would be proper in the Witchlands. Mama’s necklace was clearly visible hanging between my breasts, and I grimaced, imagining her reaction to seeing me in something like this. The dress clasped around my neck on a gold band, which I was able to figure out after much struggling, and the sleeves swooped down over my arms, leaving my shoulders bare. It was, in short,notsomething I would ever wear. Ever.
Also, no pockets.
“Goddess damn these buttons,” I grumbled, trying to fasten the buttons up the back of the dress and failing miserably.
“Would you like some help?” Carnon drawled from the balcony doorway. I turned to see him leaning against the frame, arms crossed and sporting a wide grin that showed off his pointed canines.
“Yes,” I bit out, scowling at him. He raised a brow expectantly, and I rolled my eyes. “Please.”
His grin became wider as he pushed off from the doorframe and strolled toward me.
“This dress, Red,” he said, sounding almost in awe as he moved to stand behind me.
“This is barely a dress,” I snapped, folding my arms around my middle to hide the bare skin there. “Why do I have to wear this?”
“Because, it is the height of demon fashion,” he explained, clearly still grinning behind me. “Demons are not like the Fae to the south. We don’t hide our females behind swathes of fabric and stuffy tradition. And I need the Lords to see that you are not a naive, little witchling.”
He leaned close enough that I felt his breath skate over my ear. “I’ll need you to ask me to touch you now, Red,” he purred, the sound vibrating its way down my spine and heating something deep in my core.
“What?” I breathed, barely moving as the demon magic coiled within me at his voice.
“For the buttons,” he said, in a voice that told me he knew exactly what effect his nearness had on me.
“I give you permission to touch me, only to fasten the buttons,” I said, voice still coming out a bit too breathy. He chuckled behind me, and I felt him begin to tug on the back of the dress, closing the thousands of tiny buttons.
“There,” he said, stroking a palm over my low back in a way that really should have caused the blood curse to murder him right there. He removed the hand quickly, turning me around so he could inspect me. “What are you doing with your hair?”
“Braiding it,” I said with a frown, feeling myself flush under his intense scrutiny. “Why?”
“No reason,” Carnon shrugged, taking a step away from me. “I like it down.”
“Then I’ll definitely be braiding it,” I retorted, turning and moving toward the little table on which the servants had placed make-up and a silver-handled brush. I inspected myself in the mirror, sighing at the scandalous dress. If I was going to do this, I may as well do it properly. I blackened my lashes, sweeping lines of shadow up at the corners the way Vera had done the countless times I had watched her. It wasn’t a perfect job, but it was passable. I picked the darkest shade of red I could find for my lips, pressing them together to spread the color.
Once the mask of the bride of the Demon King was complete, I turned for Carnon’s approval. He was lounging indolently on the couch, his own finery making him look somehow even more sinfully delicious than normal. The gold band around his head looked more like a crown when paired with the black and gold suit. He wore a coat with a high collar, and shiny gold buttons, and his green eyes went wide as I turned.
