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Chapter 1
Ivy
“They’ll never guess.” Iris met my eyes in the mirror. “The dress fits you perfectly, and you look exactly like me. Even Mom and Dad wouldn’t be able to figure it out from a photo.”
Even though Iris and I were not twins, just sisters a year apart, we looked so much alike that teachers had always gotten us mixed up in school. It wasn’t our first time pretending to be each other, but it would be my first time doing it at an event as prestigious as the Monsters & Magic Charity Gala.
The woman who stared back at me from the mirror really did look like my sister, not me. It probably helped that Iris had chosen the gown and done the makeup spell for the event. This was very much her style, not mine.
In true Iris fashion, the dress was bright and flashy. Boisterous. It was pink—not the soft rose I’d have chosen, but a bright Barbie pink. The bodice was cut low and encrusted with so many crystals that if a zombie apocalypse broke out during the festivities, I’d be screwed. This thing would weigh me down like an anchor.
The slit went up so high on my thigh that it was almost indecent. If it weren’t for the feather boa edging it, I’d flash everyone every time I moved. She’d even had a matching pair of underwear made in the same bright pink satin, just in case. In other words, this was exactly the type of gown Iris would wear.
I preferred more subdued colors and styles. We might look alike, but that was where the similarity between us ended. Iris was the social butterfly. She loved bold colors, big events, meeting new people, and heading out for a night on the town. I preferred curling up with a book on a Saturday night and maybe having a glass of wine or two.
“Thanks for doing this for me.” She eyed the expensive, custom-made gown longingly.
“It’s not too late for you to change your mind. I know you really wanted to go to this thing. You’ve been trying to get invited for years.”
My sister owned a PR company, and it had taken tons of strategic schmoozing with “the right people” for her to finally land an invite. Plus, the cost of the ticket made me physically ill. It felt wrong for me to be going given that she paid for it, but if I didn’t use it, the ticket was forfeited, and that was even worse.
“Yeah, I know. But I’m not going to chance it. Now that I’ve been invited once, they’ll invite me again. I’ll go next year”—she made a face—“when the risk of accidentally contracting a husband is gone.”
She made finding “the one” sound like catching a disease. The idea of settling down after a life of independence and fun just didn’t appeal to her.
Me? Honestly, I wouldn’t mind finding the man of my dreams and starting a family. But I was picky. I had too many book boyfriends to compare real men to, and I always found the real-world guys lacking. I didn’t have particularly crazy criteria; he had to have a job and show ambition, be a good person, and be open-minded. Unfortunately, everyone who’d met all my base criteria hadn’t met expectations in the bedroom department.
“Maybe the fortune teller’s wrong,” I said. “Maybe you won’t meet your forever and ever guy at the event.”
Iris shook her head. “No. Davina has never led me astray. Things might not happen exactly as you think they will, but ultimately, she’s always right.” She gave my shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “I know you hate big events. You don’t have to socialize all night with people like I would. I’ll post on my socials tomorrow that I was feeling a bit under the weather and wasn’t my usual bubbly self. They’ll understand. Show up, smile for the photos, make some small talk, and you’re golden.”
“And what if someone tries to talk to me about your work?”
“Just tell them it’s a party and you don’t want to think about it.”
Fair enough.
“And really, I’ll only know a few people there. Shelby, from Shelby’s Creations—”
“The one who made the dragon’s bride’s dress?”
“Yup, that’s the one. She made this dress for me.”
Okay, I’d recognize the dressmaker. Her face had been plastered all over the internet when photographers had snuck into the dragon’s very private wedding. That interaction should be easy; I’d tell her how lovely my dress was, and how gorgeous I felt in it. That would be something Iris would totally say.
“Did you know Shelby’s grandmother is also named Iris?” Iris paused for emphasis. “Now she’s a green witch.”
We’d been asked often if we were green witches before because of our names. We were not, but sometimes, I wish I had a more useful magical powers like plant magic.
“Then there’s René,” Iris continued, “the curator of Par Excellence, who got me into the event.”
Par Excellence was an art gallery here in Darlington that Iris had recently started working with. She’d already shown me numerous pictures of René, and we’d practiced what to say when I saw him.
With everyone else, I just planned on asking lots of questions. Everyone loved talking about themselves, right?
“They’ll sit most guests with people they already know. You’ll probably be at a table with other solo guests. It’ll be fine.”
She was probably right. Was I nervous to be lying to everyone about my identity? Yep, totally.But I figured as long as I kept things short and sweet, no one would bat an eye. It was a big event with lots of people and things to keep everyone distracted.
