Page 180 of A Vow of Embers

They were all wearing dresses that reflected the aspect of the goddess they connected to.

I had never chosen one, so I didn’t know what Io could have picked out for my dress, but I was excited to see.

She ducked behind my dressing screen and brought out ... a black dress.

All black.

My stomach dropped. After being forced to wear that color every day in the temple, and all that it symbolized—because it was something only prisoners and outcasts wore. I didn’t know what to say.

As she got closer, I saw that the first glance had been deceiving. It was still black, but silver threads had been woven through it so tightly that it seemed to sparkle.

Like the stars in the nighttime sky.

And there were tiny little green leaves along the edges that you could only see if you were close.

It wasn’t enough to sway me. “I don’t ever want to wear black again.”

Io seemed to be expecting my response. “I wanted you to make a statement. You are not an outcast. You are not someone to be ignored or hated. You are a princess and soon you will be queen, and so you set your own standards for what you wear. Every woman in the court will order a black dress after they see you in this.”

She told me to sit and directed the others to help dry and brush my hair. There were different types of powders on my table. “What are those?”

“Enhancements,” she said. “Another type of armor. Close your eyes.”

She brushed one kind of powder on my eyelids, another on my cheeks, and then painted on a mixture of berry juice and red ocher to stain my lips. She had me stand in front of my full-length mirror, and then all four of my sisters held bowls of syrupy, lukewarm, glittery water that they began to paint on my skin.

“What is that?” I asked. It felt strange.

“It is a mixture of finely ground mica and fruit sugar and water. The mica is going to make your skin sparkle. And the sugar will make it sweet in case anyone happens to taste you.”

“No one’s going to do that,” I told her firmly.

“You never know,” she said with a shrug.

Maybe it was some kind of Ilionian tradition. “I’m going to be so sticky.”

“Good thing you have your own washroom. I wanted you to shine tonight.”

They finished quickly and waited for Io’s mixture to dry, but I had grown suspicious.

“Why aren’t you putting this on anyone else?” I stood there with my legs far apart and my arms straight out. I felt ridiculous.

“Because no one else here is married to a prince and pretending to be in love,” she said. It seemed like a weak explanation and Io wouldn’t meet my eyes in our reflection.

Now I knew she was up to something.

“We’ll leave her hair loose,” she said. She put on the same crown that I had worn when I got married, the one with silver leaves and green emeralds. Knowing what it meant to her, I couldn’t refuse.

Then she dabbed a perfume of her own making on all my pulse points. “This is the best kind—it will make everyone forget what they were doing when you walk by.”

“It does smell pretty,” Ahyana agreed.

Io had me turn away from the mirror, and they slipped the dress over my head. I noticed immediately that it was another one in the Remulan style, where I would have to worry about my chest being exposed.

All I could do was sigh. I knew there was no point in fighting Io.

But Io didn’t use shoulder pins this time. Instead she put a silver-plated girdle on me to cinch the dress in place. It reminded me so much of the one I had worn at my wedding. Zalira and Ahyana again tied intricate knots with the laces in the back.

At least this time they’d be able to help me undo it.

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