Page 67 of A Strange Hymn

Take it from Temper on how to punish with subtlety. Back in high school, she had a whole notebook of crafty little hex ideas.

“Temper, she was just doing her job.”

She makes an indignant sound. “She was sticking me like I was a pincushion! On purpose! Anyway…” She eyes me again. “What’s going on?” Her gaze drifts back to the bustling hallway.

“Solstice,” I explain.

“What about it?” She stifles a yawn.

“It begins today.”

“What?”

“We’re leaving in, uh…” I reach for my phone before I remember we’re in the freaking Otherworld, where electronics are nonexistent. If I want to rattle off the time, I’m going to have to learn to chart the stars.

Ugh.

“We’re leaving soon.”

“How soon is soon?” she asks.

I shrug. “I’m heading off to get changed.”

“Changed? Into what?” Temper is glancing around the hall like clothes will materialize out of thin air.

“A flour sack—the outfits tailored for us, what do you think?” I edge away. “I got to go. Just get yourself ready and meet me in the courtyard.”

She lets out a frustrated growl, then closes her door.

I head back to Des’s rooms, feeling oddly nervous about the week ahead. From everything I learned about Solstice, there’ll be balls and meetings and schmoozing, none of which appeals to me. And then there’s the fact I’ll have to rub elbows with fairies who believe humans are nothing more than forced labor.

This is going to be super-duper fun.

When I slip back inside Des’s chambers, there’s a package waiting for me on the bed, my name scrawled across it in looping script. After hesitating just a hairbreadth away, I flip the lid off. Resting inside the box is a gown unlike anything I’ve seen before. I’m not especially girly, but I have a healthy appreciation for nice clothing, and this is so much more than nice.

The pale material glows—glows—a soft blue color. The lacy neckline plunges in a deep V. I run my fingers over the material, and it’s both incredibly soft and quite delicate. Nestled next to the dress are two coiled flowering vines, which also give off the same pale glow as the dress. The fittings Temper and I stood through—they hadn’t been forthisunearthly gown.

Des comes out of the bathroom then, fiddling with his own outfit, which is made of the same luminous material as mine.

He’s a far cry from the rough-edged Bargainer I’m used to seeing, clad now in fitted pants, knee-high boots, and a shirt that lovingly molds itself to his wide shoulders and trim waist. Topping it all off is his hammered bronze circlet.

Before I laid eyes on him, I would’ve assumed such attire would make Des look less dangerous, but instead, it serves to sharpen the slant of his eyes and the painfully beautiful cut of his jaw and cheekbones.

Here is the monster all those fairy tales warned me of. A man too beautiful to be real, one who rides out on dark nights to snatch up wayward maidens.

“Do you like it?” he asks.

I nod at him, thinking he’s referring to himself, until I realize he’s gesturing to the package.

I drag my attention back to the dress, noticing the corner of his mouth twitch.

“It’s…breathtaking,” I say, staring down at my own outfit. And I mean it. I rub the luminescent cloth between my fingers. “What is it?”

“Spun moonlight,” Des says, looking pleased by my reaction.

“Spunmoonlight?” I repeat. I’m trying to wrap my mind around the fact that, in the Otherworld, this is perfectly normal. “And I get to wear this?”

His lips twitch again. “That is the idea, cherub.” He steps in close and strokes away the hair from my face. “I’ve waited years to see you dressed as the queens of my world are dressed,” he says.

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