Page 76 of Resist

Letting go of my wrist, she threw the doors open to the house. “Just be quick and do as you’re told. You’ve had a taste of Charles’s temper, and that is the last thing I need before this party.Move,” she growled.

Yish!I picked up the pace and didn’t ask any more questions.

***

“Annunciate, boy. Project your voice and speak clearly,” Charles ordered as he walked around us. Wes was down on one knee, holding out the most hideous, gaudiest yellow gold ring with the most ridiculously enormous diamond I had ever seen. The thing might as well have been a boulder, and every time Wes slipped it on my finger, I felt like my arm was going to fall off. I didn’t know how anyone could actually wear the thing, but if this was his grandmother’s wedding ring the woman must have been a giant.

Wes stared off at the ground just past me, jaw clenched, eyes cold and emotionless. He cleared his throat and then spoke again loudly. “Mara de la Puente, First Daughter of Telvia, I ask for your hand, so that our love might unite our war-torn lands and bring peace to our factions…” The words left his lips, empty, lifeless, and hollow.

“How do you expect anyone to buy that horrible performance?” Charles stalked toward us, frustration emanating from him.

Wes glared up at his dad. I thought for sure he was going to give a snappy comeback, but he stayed silent. Only his eyes spoke a thousand words.

“Do it again,” Charles barked. “And for god’s sake,smile.”

Wes pressed his lips together firmly, eyes flickering, before he plastered the angriest smile I had ever seen and began again. “Mara de la Puente, First Daughter of Telvia, I ask for your—”

“Charles,” Marissa threw open the doors to the parlor. She looked amazing in a navy blue, chiffon dress that hugged her form until it flowed out around her knees and draped out behind her. White pearls decorated the lobes of her ears, and a delicate strand of pearls hung on her neck. Her hair draped about her shoulder in blonde ringlets, pinned up on one side behind her ear with a beautiful, pearled comb. She glided across the room, hands extended out in exasperation. “Our guests are arriving and none of you are ready. They need to get dressed,” she begged.

“I’llsay when this is over!” he yelled back at her. And I saw it then.

The subtle flinch.

The slight lean back of her body.

The subtle turn of her head, waiting for the blow her body was trained to receive.

But Charles controlled his temper, lifting his wrist to look at his tab. “Blast,” he muttered under his breath. He looked down at Wes, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t mess this up, boy.” Then he whirled to face me, finger still pointed. “And you—say ‘yes’ once he’s done asking. Both of you rise, face the crowd, and bow. You got that?” Charles looked from me to Wes, and then back to me, before marching past his wife out of the room.

Wes stood up, stretching his back. The poor guy had been made to kneel for the pastthree hours. I had no idea how he did it, how he just sat there like stone. I reached my hand out to him, but he shrugged it off. It hurt, but I tried not to take it personally. He had to be in pain, and I felt for him.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He wouldn’t look at me. “I’m fine.” But his words were hollow, and that worried me. I went to put my hand on him again when Marissa spoke.

“Both of you need to get dressedimmediately.” She clapped her hands, trying to usher us to move. Before I knew what was happening, a flurry of men and women rushed into the room, pushing carts filled with make-up brushes, powders, and bottles. Another pushed a rack filled with glittering fabrics, while someone else pushed a rack with a variety of suits in different shades of black. Several others lifted a huge room divider across the floor, effectively creating a wall between Wes and me. Then the men disappeared on Wes’s side of the divider while the women surrounded me, and the torture began.

They yanked on my clothing, but I recoiled, backing myself up against the wall. Nothing stopped them. They followed, pulling on my shirt, tugging on my jeans. All I could do was be thankful that no one stood behind me while my body stood naked and then felt even more gratitude when a robe was draped over my frame. They shoved me into a chair. Someone grabbed my hands, while someone else started fussing over my feet. Acomb ran through my hair, while another woman grabbed my chin, scrutinized my face, and then started dabbing creams and powders all over.

I was poked and prodded, hair pulled and twisted, face turned this way and that so much that I thought I was going to strain my neck. Never in my life was I fussed over this much. Not even in Telvia. I had been to galas before, sure. Had maids dress me and all, but never with this kind of fervor. I didn’t know how long the ridiculousness lasted, but it felt like an eternity had passed before they pushed me out of the chair. As their hands went for my robe, I quickly positioned myself to make sure no one stood behind me as they stripped the robe from my body.

Fresh undergarments were slipped up my legs, and before I could even get a look at the thing, the dress that was designed for me—by Charles, no less—was thrown over my head. The straps slid over my arms, settling just off my shoulders.

The maid in front of me finished tugging the dress onto my hips, making sure the skirt settled correctly in all the right places. Then she made a twirling motion with her finger, which I interpreted to mean I needed to turn around. And when I did, I found myself looking into a full-length mirror and forgot about everything. I gasped.

The dress was breathtaking. It was a gorgeous, midnight blue with a v-neckline. It was a little more revealing than I would have liked, but the fabric folded in such a way that it revealed very little. Andthatwas a blessing. The dress hugged my midsection and then flared out from my waist into a full-length ball gown. And itglittered. It glittered like stars, with hints of gold and silver, making the fabric look like the sky at dawn. I had to hand it to Charles—the man might be a jerk, but he could design a dress like nobody’s business.

My hair was pulled up and off my shoulders into a collection of curls and delicate ringlet strands. Dainty strands of gold bearingtiny diamonds hung from my ears, while a similar gold strand with one teardrop diamond rested around my neck. I smiled at my reflection. Because, for once in my life, I truly felt beautiful, and I knew I could rival any fairytale princess.

“Let me zip it up,” the woman to my left said. She stepped around me as my excitement brewed. She made a sound…a strangled sort of hiccup, but I paid it no mind, too entranced by my own image. What would Wes think? Would he like it?

Finally, I felt the zipper climb and then…it stopped. It stopped at my lower back as someone else lifted the glittery gown to slip on my golden heels. And then it dawned on me.

Oh no! How could I forget?

I felt a flash of heat pump in my chest, a quick shot of adrenaline making me hot as the woman who was zipping up my dress stepped away from me. I caught her eye in the mirror. To her credit, she tried. She tried to hide the look of disgusted horror. The look of someone who had just been mortified and repulsed.

I swallowed hard then. How could I have been so stupid?

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