Page 9 of The Blade in the Ashes
Iwatched with something akin to detached amusement as Nessira wrapped her fingers around the onyx crown, her jaw dangling open and brows pinched together.
“This is…” Her voice trailed off as if she couldn’t quite find the words to articulate what she was thinking.
I didn’t blame her. One could describe the crown in many ways.
Heavy. Strange. Foreboding. Uncharacteristic.
Pointless.
Important.
It was a circlet of harsh steel, rising in jagged peaks across my brow. We’d just begun deciding what dress I would wear when a palace servant delivered it to my room with explicit instructions to wear it to dinner. He hadn’t bothered to sign the note, but I’d still recognized Caldrius’ hand.
“It’s ostentatious,” I agreed, my upper lip curling back in disgust as I glared at it. “ButI need Hyrax and Caldrius to think that I’m coming around to the idea of this new reality, and, as much as I loathe to admit it, this will help.”
I waved a hand down the lines of my gown with a dismissive shrug of the shoulders. “This all will help.”
Nessira clicked her tongue before placing the crown atop my head. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but do you think a simple gown is enough to convince them of your loyalty?”
The deep obsidian fabric clung to my body like a second skin, hugging my torso before flaring into a sweeping skirt. Embroidered with silver thread resembling vines, it caught the light as I moved. It was just as over the top as the crown, and a long way off from the simpler pale gowns I typically preferred. My face was just as unrecognizable, with dark kohl ringing my eyes and my lips painted a burgundy so dark that it was almost black.
“This isn’t the first time someone has dressed me up and asked me to play a role.” I suppressed the shiver that threatened to run down my spine.
“The Dragon was not a God,” she reminded me, stepping back to look me over appraisingly. “Somehow, I doubt Hyrax will be as easy to fool.”
There was a gentle tug against the roots of my hair as the crown slipped backwards and Nessira’s deft fingers latched onto it once more, pulling it back into place.
“At least let me clip it in,” she sighed unhappily.
Several pins later, when it finally sat snug atop my curls, I stepped back to look at myself in the looking glass.
“I hardly recognize you,” Nessira mused behind me, a worried line between her brows.
Truthfully, I didn't recognize myself.
I looked more like Hyrax’s heir than I ever had before.
My billowing skirt shuffled against the floorboards as I turned towards her, painted a reassuring smile on my face, and took her hand in my own.
“My first day here, you gave me advice. Do you remember what you said?”
She frowned, gaze lifting to the ceiling as she struggled to remember, until recognition lit in her eyes and she chuckled softly. Her fingers tightenedon my own in a gentle squeeze. “I told you not to cry because strength is sometimes noticed, but weakness is not forgotten.”
Exactly.
The time for crying was over.
“When I eventually get my powers back, I’m going to make Hyrax pay for everything he has done to the Mortal Realm.”
It was a vow.
For the realm. For Clay. For myself.
And it was a vow I intended to keep.
A clear knock rang out as knuckles slammed down on the door to my suite. Caldrius.
I turned to answer, but Nessira’s fingers wrapped around my wrist and pulled me back, her touch surprisingly icy for a fire wielder. Brown eyes bore into mine, so intense that I paused.
