Page 183 of Ignite
In fact, it isn’t a dressat all.
It’s several pieces: a top, pants, leather arm covers, a front-facing under-bust corset, and a halter strap to go over my shoulders and across my chest.
Deep red leather is stitched together to create the top—no, not leather. I lean closer, seeing that it looks exactly like Zephyr’s scales. It’s made ofwyvernscales.
I gasp and drop the pile of clothing.
What did Daimon have to do to get this made?
Dread coils in my stomach, and I yank the clothes off the ground. I stuff them back in the box, ignoring the tears pricking at my eyes. The scales are the same color as Zeph’s. Thesamehue of maroon, so dark it’s almost black.
Did Daimon hurt Zephyr?
I shove the box beneath the bed, refusing to acknowledge the possibility. I haven’t been able to feel her since being in Crea. I thought it was because of the distance.
My magic is gone—and so are my connections to all of my bonds.
He didn’t give me a dress. Instead, he gave me something to wear for battle.
It’s as if I’m heading off to war. In a way, I suppose I am.
It takes every ounce of strength inside of me to change intothe outfit Daimon wants me to wear. The feel of the wyvern scales brushing against my fingertips as I tug on the top causes my stomach to clench around nothing.
Once it’s on, I braid my hair back in a single line and toss it over my shoulder—just like I did in the camp when I was prepping for training. Only this time, it’s not pretend.
The clothes fit me perfectly, as if they were made just for me. And despite the wyvern scales, I find that I…like it. It moves flawlessly with my limbs, stretching easily as I twist and raise my arms.
Perfect for fighting.
The sound of a door creaking open behind me causes me to spin around.
Anisia’s sharp teeth glint as she grins at me—though it looks more like a grimace. She laughs as she floats through the bars, the sound like silverware scraping against a ceramic bowl. “The Lord of Shadows will see you now.”
My nostrils flare, a fire stirring in my belly at the thought of getting out of here. Of the possibility that I’ll see Opal and Graylen.
Whatever Daimon has planned, I’m going to find a way out of here before they give me over to Vidaris.
Daimon might be my father, but that doesn’t save him from the wrath flowing through my veins.
Seventy-Six
Obsidian
There’s something…wrongabout this place. Like it’s trying to be a pretty castle when it’s really a decaying soul beneath smooth flesh.
Obsidian floors glitter against the pale blue glow that lines the ceiling, the light emitting from floating lanterns that look like bottled moonlight.
Anisia drifted into the background the moment we arrived at the ball, leaving me to fend for myself—though her being by my side wouldn’t have made me feel much better anyway.
My pulse kicks up a notch as a few of the attendees turn my way. There are only twenty to thirty in attendance—odd for such a large room, though I’m eternally grateful there aren’t more.
Attendeesdoesn’t fully describe the grotesque creatures littering the room. Their movements are unnatural; headstwisting further than they should, bodies disfigured and limbs bending in places they shouldn’t.
My blood rushes in my ears as creatures I didn’t know existed stare at me likeI’mthe strangest thing here.
One catches my eye, staring back at me with pupils formed into tiny slits. Her skin is slightly green, with small scales covering her entire body. She flares her nostrils, breathing in deeply. A smile slips across her face, and a forked tongue slithers from her mouth, a hiss accompanying the movement—reminding me of Anisia.
I swallow, feeling like I’m in a nightmare version of the balls in Crea.
