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After she was finished, another woman entered with a dozen dresses, all in various shades of white, wrapping Kerrigan in the latest fashions. They were a little more sheer, a little more revealing, and draped to accentuate her natural figure. The woman said next to nothing, even when prompted, and left when Kerrigan was dressed in an eggshell dress with gold thread embroidered around the edges and emeralds to match her eyes at her ears and throat. The slippers were plush heeled sandals. The whole thing was miraculous to behold. Her designer, Parris, back in Alandria would probably die to get his hands on the material in this one dress. Let alone the other eleven waiting in a box for other events.
A throat cleared at the doorway. Kerrigan looked up to see Constantine dressed as formally as she was. Forgoing the traditional white toga for a dark blue one with a hem of the deepest onyx. It was striking against his tan skin and dark features.
“You look lovely,” he said quietly.
“Is that Andine attire?” she asked, ignoring his compliment.
“No. Domaran but tailored to my house colors.”
“I’m sure they’ll love that.”
He shrugged. “Mostly only senators and Doma wear all white. And even then, the senators are always threaded with purple.”
She plucked her gown. “Are Doma threaded with gold?”
“Indeed.”
She appreciated the audacity.
“Here,” he said, offering her a bundle.
“What’s this?”
“The nights can get cold.” He almost looked nervous to hand it over.
She took it in her hands and saw that it was a shawl in the same dark blue color of Constantine’s house. It had been immaculately embroidered with love and care. There was no way that someone had created this in haste for this evening.
“It’s beautiful,” she acknowledged.
“It was my wife’s.” He cleared his throat and looked away as she drew it around her shoulders, as if he could barely bear looking at her in it.
She didn’t know what to say. Constantine was as infuriating as he was sincere. He must have made a good king.
He gestured for her to follow him out of the house. A group of his men had saddled an open-air carriage to a team of horses. One helped her inside, and Constantine took the seat next to her. Two men rode up front, and a pair were mounted behind them. An escort to show wealth and keep back any that might attack their carriage.
The drive to the party was short, but Kerrigan could tell that she’d been wrong about Constantine’s home. He lived in a wealthy area. But there was a difference between wealth and this.
Back in Alandria, the Row was a section of the city of Kinkadia where all the old-money wealth lived. They’d had homes there for thousands of years, and the mansions were so large that if they opened their doors to the commoners, there would be no housing crisis. In fact, those with wealth who couldn’t get space on the Row had moved to the Riverfront. And people made fun of their mansion homes because they weren’t Row quality.
This was the same thing.
These were generational estates, to which there was no rival.
Even Kerrigan, who had grown up a princess and been raised inside a mountain, was impressed by the colossal, columned structures.
Constantine sucked his teeth as they approached the wide square structure. “This should be interesting.”
“Danae said that you’re not normally invited.”
“No,” he said begrudgingly.
“Is it because of Myron? Or me?”
He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure.”
“But you don’t like it?”
“No,” he agreed. “No, I don’t.”
“Well, at least we’re on the same page. And hey, maybe those dance lessons will come in handy.”
He jerked his attention back to her. Once he realized she was being sarcastic, he grumbled something under his breath and then faced forward again.
She let a small smile cross her face. So, tonight was going to be awful. Constantine had no idea why he had been invited. He was entering his enemy’s house without a weapon or knowledge of why there was a ceasefire. She couldn’t imagine a good reason for being here or a good reason for him to decline.
The carriage stopped in front of the mansion, and one of his soldiers assisted her down. Kerrigan noted the other noblewomen each placing their hand on top of their escort’s hand. So, when Constantine stepped down next to her, she did it naturally. He kept his face steadfastly forward.
Whispers trailed behind them as they moved into the crowd. She was sure it was shocking to see a Doma on the arm of an Andine soldier. Whether or not that was reality.
A man at the door was taking the crisp vellum invitations. No announcements of their identity, like back home, and then they were inside. If she had thought Constantine’s sitting room was ostentatious, it had nothing on this house. The entire ceiling was painted with an elaborate battle scene. The floor was black-and-white marble with beautiful pink inlaid marble columns lining the room. It was perfumed with the scent of flowers. A fountain of sparkling wine flowed into glasses at the center of the room. And magical little butterflies cascaded through the crowd.
