Page 93 of Lore of the Wicked Wood
It made her skin crawl to see so many revel in the lore of the wicked wood.
Not long ago, the hoops had been like home to her. She loved to feel like she was dancing in the night sky, weightless and free. Performing had been its own kind of high. On the hoops she wasn’t death touched, she wasn’t the sister of the Lord of Time, she wasn’t Everinne…the reckless fae who made careless decisions and drowned herself in alcohol to avoid her nightmares. She was simply a fae with no name, whose mesmerizing talent held onlookers captive. But the air of the Mystic Obscura had changed, it was charged with a kind of threatening energy, one that left her feeling exposed and unsteady. Even the audience seemed more feral. Instead of gasps of awe and applause, she could hear their lewd calls and shouts demanding more from her over the hypnotic thrum of the music.
Everinne had never been so glad to finish a routine in her life.
Worse, she didn’t ever want to do it again. She wanted to go home.
She quickened her pace as she navigated the lower level of the Mystic Obscura, aiming for the dressing rooms. The sooner she changed into her clothing, the sooner she could leave thisplace and never look back. Yanking open the door of the dressing room, she bolted inside, closing it soundly behind her.
A few other dancers startled at her abrupt entrance, and while they offered her polite smiles, their conversation easily returned to elusive whispers of confidence.
Everinne considered grabbing her clothing and just walking out, when she spied a shock of pink hair in the far corner of the room.
“Aisling!” She hurried over to her only other friend. “There you are. I haven’t seen you since you left the ball.”
“Oh, I should apologize for my hasty departure.” Aisling stood from the chair in front of the vanity and planted a kiss on each of Everinne’s cheeks. “Reine required my assistance back here, something about needing help with runes and charms.”
Everinne opened her mouth to ask about the runes and charms, to maybe see if she could unearth some more information, but Aisling continued speaking, giving her no time to interject.
“What do you think of my new costume?” she asked, doing a little twirl. “I feel like the rhinestones and pearls give it just the right amount of sparkle.”
Aisling looked like a snow princess in the best possible way. Frosty pink blush was dusted on the apples of her cheeks and her cerulean eyes were lined heavily with kohl. The sleeves of her bodice were shimmering white lace and bejeweled with crystal beads. Pearls dotted her low neckline and waist, where layers of pristine satin fell to her thighs, embellished with wisps of gossamer. Her hair was piled high into an ornate bun and some of the vibrant pink was threaded with strands of snowy white. The crowning touch was a silver tiara shaped like mountains that twinkled like stardust on top of her head.
“It’s beautiful.” Everinne admired her, canting her head to the side. “I’ve noticed you like the wintry, frostbitten looks.”
“Winter is in my blood.” An emotion banked deep in her eyes, and she hid it away before Everinne could discern its meaning. She grabbed her shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze. “But tell me about you. Is it true you’re engaged to the Prince of Prava?”
“Yes.” Everinne lifted her hand to show off the ring and the teal sapphire glinted in the low light of the dressing room. “It all happened rather quickly.”
“I didn’t even know you were courting him!” Aisling squealed, then lowered her voice as the other performers glanced over at them, curiosity drawn all over their painted faces. “Have you set a date?”
“Not yet.” Everinne scraped her teeth along her bottom lip, ignoring Aisling’s first comment. “Though I imagine we’ll marry sooner rather than later. The kralv has made his sentiments known, he’s eager for his son to sire an heir. Once I’m pregnant, I’ll be cast aside. The prince will have no use for me, and we both know his reputation precedes him.”
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. No sooner had she spoken, than she regretted it. Especially since she already claimed she would be his wife in name only. It had been a callous, wretched thing to say. If anything, she knew Atlas would be faithful to her, he’d proclaimed as much himself. But she couldn’t help but wonder if the fear of him choosing to bed others was more deeply ingrained within her, like it was wedged between what she knew to be true and her own lack of self-worth.
“Ever.” Aisling’s smile faded and a line of concern crinkled its way across her brow. She shot a glance toward the other performers who were filing out of the dressing room. “If you don’t want to marry the prince, you can say no. Nothing is binding you to him. If you don’t want to go through with this, just say no.”
“I can’t.” Everinne sucked in a shallow breath. She couldn’t walk away from this engagement, not without facing the kralv’s wrath. And as much as she wanted to tell Aisling that she was bound to Atlas, that he was hermate, she kept silent. “I have no choice.”
Aisling frowned, planting both hands on her hips. “What do you mean?”
“It’s done. I’m marrying Prince Atlas.” Everinne shook her head, struggling with the laces of her corset. The sleek black ribbons slipped through her fingers, the bodice suddenly so snug, she couldn’t quite catch her breath. “And honestly, it couldn’t come soon enough. He doesn’t want me to work here anymore and after tonight, I’m not sure I would want to stay.”
The light in Aisling’s eyes dimmed, snuffed out completely. “You plan to…leave?”
“I’m not sure I have much of a choice in the matter.” That seemed to be the way of her life as of late. She pressed her fingertips to her temples to alleviate some of the pressure building there. “I’ll be a princess, and I highly doubt it will go over very well to have a royal working at one of Starysa’s exclusive parlors.”
“No, I suppose that would be frowned upon indeed.” Aisling grabbed a rose-colored pot from the vanity and applied a thin layer of shimmery gloss to her lips. Rubbing them together, she turned back to Everinne. “Um, tell me, did you give Reine a drop of your blood?”
Everinne shifted her weight, uncomfortable in her own skin. Again, she tugged on the laces of her corset to loosen them, but they only seemed to squeeze her waist tighter, until she thought her ribs would crack.
“Unfortunately.” The word left her on a breathless rasp.
“Oh. Oh, I see.” Aisling fiddled with her silver diamond earrings that dangled like dancing snowflakes. “That might make things more complicated.”
Everinne paused, eyeing her friend.
Aisling looked anxious and ill at ease. Her worried blue gaze darted from the door of the dressing room to the racks of glittering costumes, then back again. She twisted the hem of her white satin skirt, threading the fine fabric between her fingers until it wrinkled.
