Page 96 of A House of Cloaks & Daggers

The thought was a cold, slimy pit in the bottom of my stomach as I trudged into the bathroom to get dressed for dinner.What else does she know?

I didn’t know very much about the High Mother—or the Oracle, for that matter—but the idea that I was being featured in so many visions and fortune-tellings regarding the fate of Faerie stirred the nausea I buried underneath whatever other feelings I could snare to smother it.

And the thought of visiting the Temple of All appealed to me again, even as the House filled the bathtub for me, and I sank beneath the surface and held my breath.

Chapter forty-one

You Look Ridiculous

Faerie makeup was somethingelse entirely.

I covered my birthmark with one of the creams Morgoya sent me, and when I was done, there was no trace left to be seen.

In the human world, I needed to use three different products before I got close to full coverage; but one cream from the High Fae and it was like I’d enchanted myself with brand new, unblemished skin.

My reflection stared back at me in reverence.

Silver glittered around my eyelids like starlight was bleeding down my cheeks. I had brushed my eyebrows upwards to mimic the straight, upturned style of the High Fae, and used one of the darker powders to give the effect of sharper and more lifted cheekbones. The last thing I did was dab some red-tinted gloss over my lips.

After a moment of marvelling at my own reflection, I turned away from the mirror.

I was beautiful, yes, but I looked more like them than ever before. That was my intention until I saw the finished product. Until I realised how much it frightened me.

My ears were still human and rounded, and I wore the necklace that reminded me of Belgrave. I found myself touching the insignia every few minutes, just to ground myself. To remember which place was home.

Delia had laid out a beautiful golden gown for me; it was the second dress from the wardrobe in that colour and had spaghetti straps with a plunging cowl neckline. It shone like the fabric held the light of the sun, even in the shadowed bathroom, and I left it behind when I walked back into the main bedroom.

I knew that it represented Lucais and his power, but all it reminded me of was the colour of Wren’s eyes.

A set of white velvet would have to do instead.

Leaving my hair down, I made sure to scrunch my curls with one of the jasmine-scented oils provided by the House until they were light and fluffy. Then I slid into a pair of velveteen slippers and took a deep breath before opening the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Three steps.

I made it all ofthree stepsdown the hallway before Wren’s voice stopped me in my tracks. On instinct, I turned towards the sound and found him standing at the other end of the hall as if he’d just stepped out of the open doorway behind him.

That couldn’t be his bedroom, because I’d been in his bedroom once before and it wasn’t…

It wasn’t right up the hall from mine, was it?

“To dinner,” I replied, keeping my voice steady against the strain building in my chest.

“No, you are not.” He strode towards me, eyes narrowing. “What is that on your face?”

My stomach churned. “Nothing.”

When he was close enough to touch me, he reached out and roughly swiped a finger across my forehead. Morgoya hadn’t included a setting spray in her little gift basket, and apparently faerie makeup didn’t set quite like I thought it would because Wren’s fingertips came away coated in the shade of cream I’d used to cover my birthmark.

He scowled down at his hand, positively livid. “Wash it off.”

I let out a disgruntled sigh and made to wipe his finger clean with the sleeve of my shirt. He jerked his hand back, brows pulling together.

“No,” he snapped, throwing his arm out behind him. He pointed to my bedroom door. “Wash it off your face. You look ridiculous.”

My mouth fell open as blood flooded to my cheeks. “I—”

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