Page 81 of Secrecy

Fifty-Four

Morgan

“We don’t have a moment to lose!” Serge tugged on my arm, practically dragging me down the Promenade walkway. He wore a butter yellow suit with wide, velvet lapels, but the platform boots that clomped on the cobblestones were bright orange.

"I still don’t know what we’re doing,” I protested, stumbling to keep up with his surprisingly quick pace. My eyes were still puffy from crying myself to sleep after my conversation with Tivek, and I hadn't bothered with much more than splashing cold water on my face when Serge had burst into my suite that morning.

"Details, details!" He flapped a hand dismissively. "You didn’t have plans today anyway.”

I sighed but didn't resist. He was right. I didn’t have plans, and getting out was better than staying in my suite, wallowing inregret and second-guessing myself. I'd spent the entire morning wondering if I'd spoken too hastily to Tivek.

I'd been so sure I was doing the right thing in telling him to take the promotion. I'd followed my mother's advice, the words she'd drilled into me throughout my childhood. I'd put myself and my career first instead of sacrificing it for a man. No one could argue that was a bad thing, right?

So why didn't I feel better?

The promenade was busier than it had been the previous evening, filled with couples strolling arm in arm, small groups of women laughing together, and the occasional Drexian male looking slightly overwhelmed by it all. Soft music drifted from hidden speakers, mingling with the gentle splash of fountains and the murmur of conversation.

"Here we are!" Serge announced, coming to such an abrupt halt that I nearly crashed into him.

I looked up at the storefront before us, my eyes widening at the fabric awning and glass windows that displayed mannequins in opulent wedding dresses. "A bridal salon? Serge, I'm not a bride."

"Obviously," he said with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "But the latest shipment of gowns has arrived, and I need a human perspective."

Before I could protest further, he pushed open the door, triggering a delicate chime that echoed through the elegant space.

The salon's interior was breathtaking. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting prisms of light across plush creamcarpeting. The walls were lined with white gowns in every conceivable style, from sleek and modern to voluminous and traditional. Glass cases displayed glittering tiaras, delicate veils, and jewelry that caught the light with every movement.

It looked exactly like the high-end bridal boutiques back on Earth, without a single indication that we were on an alien space station. The illusion was only broken when a green-skinned attendant emerged from a back room, her four-fingered hands clasped in front of her and her antennae bobbling.

"Serge! We've been expecting you," she said, her voice melodic. She turned to me with a slight bow. "And you must be Morgan. Welcome to our humble boutique.”

"The latest ship of tributes has been delayed," Serge explained, already browsing through the racks. "But the new gowns arrived right on schedule." He shot me a pleading look. "I need a human to give me honest opinions. Past tributes have complained that the gowns I select are too..." He crinkled his nose and wiggled his fingers in the air, searching for the word.

"Flashy?" I suggested, noticing his hands linger over the gowns with the most amount of glitz.

"Exactly!" He sniffed indignantly. "As if there's such a thing."

I sighed, resigning myself to the situation. Maybe this would be a good distraction from the hollow ache in my chest. “I’m no expert, but I’ll help if I can.”

The green-skinned attendant clapped her hands together. "Wonderful! I'll bring out our newest selections."

She disappeared into a back room, returning moments later with an armful of gowns, each encased in a protective covering thatdidn't quite hide the fabric beneath. She hung them on an empty rack and hurried to take them out of their casings.

"First, we have 'Celestial Whisper,'" she announced, spinning around and holding a dress in front of her.

The sleek column of ivory satin with a high neck and a dramatic open back was a masterpiece of simplicity. No embellishments, no beading, just luxurious fabric that draped like flowing water.

“Boring," Serge declared immediately.

I shook my head. "No, it's elegant. Sometimes less is more."

The attendant nodded approvingly and set the gown aside, revealing the next one. "This is 'Nebula Dream.'"

This massive ball gown had a skirt so voluminous it seemed to be as wide as it was tall. The bodice was completely covered in crystals that shifted color when the light hit them, and the tulle overlay of the skirt was embedded with tiny sequins.

Serge clapped his hands. “Now that's a wedding dress!"

I wrinkled my nose. "It's a bit much. It’s so ornate it might outshine the bride.”

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