Page 39 of Duskbound

Matilda pondered for a moment before nodding.

“As you know, I’m not as I once was Miss Effie. You’re lucky I’ve had no use for my tether in so long. I’ve had time to gatheressence.” Matilda’s hands were fluttering around me, brushing back my hair and tilting my chin towards the light. “I can’t promise how long it will last either.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“Well, it takes most of my tether’s strength to alter facial features. It may be best if we just focus on changing her hair and use pigment and shadow to disguise the rest.”

Effie nodded, squinting her eyes to see the vision Matilda had painted. “It has been years since Millie has joined any of the conferences. I doubt anyone would be looking too close anyways. My uncle is not particularly popular with the Council right now.”

“May I ask what this is? Is this some kind of ball?” I couldn’t imagine they would be hosting a ball. There was nothing I could imagine they would be celebrating.

“No. Not a ball. We haven’t had one of those in years.” Effie sighed wistfully. “This is more of a fancy political meeting. All the biggest contenders—those with power, will be in attendance."

Matilda's fingers moved through my hair and suddenly I felt it—a strange tingling sensation that started at my scalp and traveled down each strand. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it was foreign, like tiny threads of electricity dancing across my skin. The air around us seemed to thicken with essence, making it harder to breathe. In the mirror, I watched as darkness began to seep into my white locks, spreading like ink through water, transforming each strand from root to tip. Effie hovered nearby, eyeing the transformation with a critical gaze.

"You know, I never imagined I'd be the one playing dress-up with you," she mused, a hint of amusement in her tone. "Usually it's me getting made up."

I shot her a sidelong glance in the mirror. "Careful, Effie. You're verging on compliments."

She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Don't get ahead of yourself. This is strictly a necessity, not some grand bonding exercise."

"The color is taking well, Miss Effie," Matilda murmured, her focus never wavering from her work.

"Good." Effie nodded, then turned back to me. "Which means you need to be on your absolute best behavior. No mind games, no attempts at escape. You're Millie tonight, understand?"

"I already told you I'm only here to observe."

"Yes, well, forgive me if I don't entirely trust your word on that," she huffed. "Just... try to blend in, would you?"

Matilda's fingers gave a final tug, and the last white portion slowly darkened, becoming a rich, inky black. "There, miss. All finished."

I ran my own fingers through the transformed tresses, marveling at how the simple change made me look almost unrecognizable. "It's... different."

Effie leaned in, her critical gaze sweeping over the results. "Hmm, not bad. Though you'll still need some cosmetic touches to fully match Millie." She reached for a small compact, deftly sweeping a hint of color across my cheeks. "There, that's better. Now, let's see about finding you a gown."

She began rummaging through the ornate trunks once more, tossing aside silks and velvets with practiced disregard. "You know," she said, her voice muffled as she dug deeper, "if you actually manage to pull this off, I might have to reconsider my opinion of you."

"Don't worry, I won't hold my breath."

As I slipped into the rich fabric, I couldn't help but glance back at the mirror. The person staring back was a stranger—dark hair, flushed cheeks, the weight of nobility draped across her shoulders. But what struck me hardest was how natural it looked, how easily I could pass for one of them. One of the Kalfar. The shadows around my eyes, my pale skin, the sharp angles of my face—everything I'd tried to hide or deny about myself suddenly seemed to make perfect sense. Something in my gut twisted, a mixture ofrecognition and revolt. Only my eyes remained unchanged, gleaming like opals.

"Should we change my eye color?" I asked hesitantly, "They're a bit distracting I've heard."

"That would be nice, but it's impossible. I used to ask Matilda to do it all the time," she sighed.

"Why would you want to change your eyes—they're blue."

"Cerulean," Effie corrected. "They're cerulean."

"I'm afraid eyes cannot be changed. Even the strongest alterationist cannot transform their appearance," Matilda said, still gathering her belongings. "It's the one thing that stays true—always."

I shifted in my dress, pulling at the ruffles. I guess I'd need to avoid eye contact for the entirety of the evening.

"Stop fidgeting," Effie chided, adjusting the fall of the fabric. "A lady never shows discomfort."

"Is that one of the pinnacles of being a lady?" I snorted.

"Among other things." She stepped back to assess the final result. "Well," she said, "I suppose you'll do."

---