Page 64 of I Dream of Dragons
I hate the fae king for taking my world and subjugating my people. I hate Jai for causing the death of my family and helping the fae king, even though he claims he wants him gone.
And I’m drawn to both. The king who is my long-lost love. And Jai who pulls me in ways I can barely comprehend, body and mind.
The thought fills my mind from end to end as Daria puts me in a stiff blue gown with the help of the seamstress—who is suddenly free to work on my dress. I can’t help thinking that the king had something to do with that, even though, let’s admit it, the low number of survivors might be also to blame.
It strikes me that I still don’t know whether Amaryll made it.
The seamstress and Daria shake their heads when I ask about her. Apparently, nobody tells them anything, ever.
“You have to know at least how many of us survived,” I argue as the seamstress puts neat stitches on the long skirt of thegown. “You have to find clothes for all of us. Don’t you know if one of us is a pretty black lady?”
“Four have survived,” she agrees, and a weight lifts off my chest. “And yes, a pretty black lady is one of those four.”
She made it. Oh Gods, she made it. I barely know her, I shouldn’t like her but—she has a daughter to go back to.
The whole purpose of this mission was to give humans a chance at peace. Take out this warlike king and put another on the throne.
And now? What will you do now?
Daria is brushing out my hair, pulling the comb through the snarls and tangles. I’m already wearing earrings and a diamond necklace. A pair of uncomfortable-looking shoes sits by the bed. Meanwhile, the seamstress is almost done bringing in the gown at the waist and chest to fit me.
The gown looks strangely familiar. Didn’t the first gown he sent me also feel familiar? I frown. I’m imagining things.
My reflection in the mirror shows me a pale, tired woman, a little too thin, a little too pensive, her white hair now being pulled up to accommodate a tiara the king must have sent.
What am I doing?
“The king sent all these jewels,” Daria says, confirming my suspicions. “And the gown.” She sighs. “It’s so beautiful.”
“When the king singles you out,” the seamstress says, not lifting her head from her stitching, “it’s not always cause for celebration.”
“What do you mean?” I whisper.
“Nothing,” she says quickly. “But it pays to be wary and to fade in the crowd.”
“It’s only four of us left,” I snap without wanting to. “Only four humans. Hard to blend in with the fae.”
“A man who cares for you wouldn’t have let you go back into the games,” she says.
“He has no choice,” I grind out. “It’s the sacred laws of the trials.”
“Trials set up by the fae. And a man who obeys the laws above your life, who puts the world first, isn’t?—”
“Don’t,” Daria says, shushing her, her face white. “The walls have ears, remember? And you’re talking about the king!”
Numb, I let them put the final touches on me. A bracelet. A ringlet of white hair coiled at my neck. A touch of rouge on my cheeks. A touch of charcoal around my eyes.
A man who obeys the laws above your life isn’t a man who really loves you.
But I can still love him.
I always will.
He was my soulmate. Still is.
A person’s true nature can’t change completely, can it?
Arkin is dressed in the formal royal guard uniform, complete with those ridiculous, creaky wings.
