Just like that, the dress isn’t the one I slipped into in the forest. This is a ball gown, lovelier than anything I’ve ever worn, maybe even lovelier than anything Jas ever created. The full skirt sweeps the grass as I walk. Rosebuds are sewn into it along the hem and up one side, as if the skirt itself were some sort of magical trellis. The fitted bodice has boning that makes my nonexistent chest swell above the sweetheart neckline. It just barely covers my amulet.
I’m busy admiring my new gown, so it’s not until Pretha taps me on the shoulder that I realize we’ve crossed the bridge. We’ve finally made it to the castle gates.
I don’t know what I expected to see, but there’s a party on the lush green lawn. Creatures of all kinds meander around the grounds. Faeries that look like butterflies with translucent wings and tiny, humanoid bodies flit through the crowd, their wings humming like a flute on the breeze. Red-skinned fire fae with glowing eyes dance around a bonfire, spinning human partners between each other so fast my eyes can hardly track their movements. The elven fae nobility meander throughout the crowd, and were it not for their pointed ears and ethereal grace, they could almost blend in with the humans—not that they’d want to.
“Getting closer.” Pretha squeezes my hand, and I feel an unexpected rush of affection.
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Maybe I need a friend too.”
How does she know I need a friend? No one has ever thought that about me. If anything, I come across as cold and standoffish. A loner with no desire to change her stripes. “Well . . . thank you. For everything.” I bite the inside of my lip as I study my dress again. It’s beautiful, and with any luck it’ll help me get inside, but what about after that? I can’t sneak through dark hallways in this skirt.
“You don’t like it,” she says. She’s not defensive or pouting, just observing, almost curious.
“I’m not used to clothes that restrict my movement. I mean, I’ve been taught all my life to be on my guard in Faerie, and if I need to run or something . . .”
She lifts her chin. “A smart girl.”
I cringe. “Or an ungrateful wretch?”
“The pins are still at the top of the skirt. Remove a single pin, and the spell is undone. The dress will take on its original form.”
I graze the top of my skirt with my fingertips until I feel one of the pins. “Perfect. Thank you.”
We make idle conversation for hours as the line inches closer and closer to the castle doors. The whole time, I take in as much detail as I can about my surroundings, ignoring my aching feet and growling stomach to study the fae in the yard and the sentries on patrol around the perimeter.
There’s no doubt in my mind that the easiest way into this castle is through the front doors, but my chances are looking more and more slim by the time we reach them. The sun is high in the sky, and I’ve watched dozens of women being sent away through the portal beside the sentries and very few being allowed entry into the castle.
“Good luck,” Pretha whispers as I step forward.
The male by the door has pointed ears and bright blue eyes. He looks me over, shrugs, and waves me inside. I turn back to Pretha. “How will I pay you back for all this?”
She grins. “Oh, I’ll think of something before we meet again.”
As I step inside, another elven faerie takes me by the arm and leads me down a sparkling hallway. I’m dazzled by the crystal chandeliers overhead and the way the light bounces off the shining floors.
I risk a glance over my shoulder to see if my new friend is following, but instead I see an unfamiliar face trailing several paces behind. Has Pretha been sent home? Guilt gnaws at me. After all she did to help me, it’s unfair that I was allowed in and she wasn’t. I should have let her go first—maybe persuaded the guards if they told her to leave through the portal.
“Straight ahead. Enjoy the celebration,” my escort says curtly. Before I can reply, he releases me and heads back the way we came.
I take several steps forward and gasp as I step into a ballroom as big as a square block in Fairscape. Late-morning light floods in from two-story floor-to-ceiling windows, and humans and faeries alike mill all around the shining marble floors. I slowly make my way into the room, merging with the crowd as I study the space.
“Why did she have to send Jasalyn away before she could finish my dress?” a familiar voice whines from somewhere behind me. Cassia.
My heart stumbles into a gallop. No. Please no.