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After a round of informal introductions, we grab some Fae delicacies—candied fig and a type of soft, tart cheese rolled in a layer of pastry so light it crumbles in your fingers—and catch a cab to the dress shop.
The store appears tiny from the outside. The brick studio has no signage and is tucked between a bakery and a tattoo shop. But inside is another story entirely. Rack upon rack of the most beautiful custom gowns I’ve ever seen grace the walls. Each piece exquisite.
A dress with a skirt made entirely of dandelions spelled not to blow away. A flowy ensemble that looks created from giant pink rose petals. A sleek black dress plated with metallic black scales.
Definitely not in Amarillo anymore, Summer.
As soon as we entered and the bell above the door tinkles, a pixie Fae comes out from the back room carrying an armful of buttery-gold silk. Glasses perch on his nose, his skin a light shade of moss.
He takes one look at our human features, frowns, and says, “Can I help you?”
Before I can utter a word, Ruby rises above us, arms crossed over her chest. “You are looking at the shadow of the Winter Prince. Show some respect, pix.”
The Pixie pushes up his glasses to study me. I lift my eyebrows. I’ll never get used to the shrewd way the Fae stare. Whatever he finds, it must be passable because he snaps his fingers and a swarm of sprites descend with measuring tape.
“I know the perfect color for you,” he says, leading us into a private room. A sprite with clear wings flies over and offers us the Fae version of champagne from a vineyard in the Winter Court territories.
Mack takes one of the bubbling flutes, and when Evelyn waves hers away, mumbling about suddenly not feeling well, Mack snatches Evelyn’s as well.
“Do you have any food here?” Evelyn asks. “I’m really hungry. I think that’s why I have such a headache.”
As the sprite flutters off to find Evelyn some crackers, I stare at Evelyn and try not to frown. She’s been quiet the last couple of days. I think, despite her assurances to the contrary, that she’s worried about finals. She didn’t even comment when I casually mentioned the prince offered to buy me a dress.
I push the thought aside and down a swallow of the sweet, fizzy drink. Then I set the glass champagne flute on a metal side table and hold out my arms. I’m actually relieved to have someone make all the decisions for me. I wouldn’t have the first clue about picking a dress, or what colors flatter my skin tone; I’ve always worn whatever was available.
When all my measurements are taken, the pixie brings over a fold of fabric. I stare at the amethyst-purple silk. “I’m not sure—”
My words trail away the moment he brings the material up to my face and I catch my reflection in the mirror. A gasp tumbles from my lips. The color brings out the gold in my hazel eyes and makes my skin look radiant. Mack and Evelyn murmur their approval, and then Mack holds out her two drinks and clinks them together.
“To kicking this fancy ball’s ass,” Mack says.
“I’ll drink to that,” I mutter, finishing my glass.
Ruby waggles her eyebrows. “The prince won’t know what hit him.”
48
I hang my dress on the closet door and stare at it, afraid if I blink, it will disappear. Or perhaps the magic used to meld all the pieces into a seamless gown will fade away and the dress will fall apart.
Mack sighs. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful.” She sinks her teeth into her lower lip. “Summer, you’ll be careful, won’t you?”
“Careful?” I laugh, not sure where’s she going with this. “I mean, I’m glad the prince bought you a nice gown. You deserve it, truly. But . . .” She hesitates, worrying her hands. “I’ve seen the way you look at each other. Just remember, whatever happens, you cannot fall in love with him.”
“Love has nothing to do with it.” My voice comes out way more defensive than I planned.
I tug my lip between my teeth. That’s not what this is, right? But as soon as I tell myself that, I know it’s a lie.
Oh, God. I think I am falling for him.
How is that possible?
I’ve never believed in love at first sight. I’ve never even thought much about love at all, other than the knowledge it wasn’t in my cards. At least, not for a long time. And I would have never guessed someone like the prince could be the one.
Love is supposed to be this beautiful thing. It’s supposed to happen after you get to know a person. It’s supposed to feel inevitable, something you see coming.
But there it is.
Unexplainable.
