In
posting chapter two of “Up in the Air,” I’m finding that all I want to do
is yap on about chapters three through 19. And I can’t. Which makes me slightly
cranky.
Nobody
likes a cranky writer. We’re obnoxious enough when we’re happy.
(It’s
true. I can admit it.)
So
I’m going to find a median between what I want to do and what I should do today,
and just post the back-cover description of “Up in the Air.” It doesn’t give
away anything you don’t figure out by chapter three anyway, which I’ll post on
Wednesday.
That’s
my justification, and I’m sticking to it! So here goes…
“Facing
fears isn’t easy. But it sure can be rewarding
“Six
months ago, Sabrina did some serious damage to the HPAC. Since then, she’s been
busy throwing herself into the role of faerie princess, which includes some
crash courses in foreign affairs. And not the fun kind, thanks to a playboy
Italian prince. It’s a good thing she isn’t interested in him considering
exactly what his real intentions are for her.
“Following
the trail of international betrayal leads her right back to some shade-sporting
bigots she’d really rather never see again, along with a startling discovery
about her dead parents. When the intrigues just keep coming, Sabrina has to
figure out what little faeries are made of... and exactly how much power she
has at her disposal when she’s free to fly.”
So
toward that very goal, here’s chapter two!
Chapter
2
“S
|
ay something to
distract me,” Sabrina ordered after a mere minute’s walk down the hallway in
the direction of the dance studio.
Gerard
and Simon followed behind her, matching her pace perfectly right down to her
footsteps, which forced her brain to count out a terse beat of “One, two,
three, four. One, two, three, four.”
Try
as she did, every time she practiced her dancing, she found herself focusing
too much on the footwork and not enough on the actual dance. In so doing, she
usually messed herself up and definitely never relaxed. It looked like today
was going to be worse than normal considering how far in advance she’d started
counting before the music began playing. That was why she needed a diversion of
some sort.
She
should have known Dallas wasn’t the one to fulfill that particular request.
“Erm,”
he stalled, his wings fluttering enough to create a small breeze around them.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
It came out sounding something very close to snappish. “I’m freaking out. Which
is why I need you to distract me.”
The
exceptionally concerned look he shot her ended up doing the trick, but in all
the wrong ways. Sabrina knew exactly where his mind went. He’d assumed she was
having a flashback to her time with Stewart; and thanks to him, now she was. On
top of the worries she’d already been dealing with.
That
nervous energy channeled into pure crankiness, pushing her to go for broke with
unflinching candor. It wasn’t her usual style, but when motivated enough, she
could get brutally honest.
With
his simple and yet very complex question, Dallas had propelled her over the
line, and Sabrina let him know in no uncertain tones. “You have to stop that.”
“Stop
what?” His face now showed a sort of panicked confusion.
“Looking
at me like that.” She came to a halt right there in the middle of the hallway,
grateful that nobody but her bodyguards were around. If there had been, she
knew she would have held her tongue, and she had to acknowledge how good it
felt to vent. “You’re treating me like my entire world revolved around what
they did. I’m trying to get over it. I really am. But you giving me that sad,
pitying look all the time isn’t helping.”
“I’m
sorry.”
She
knew he meant the apology about as sincerely as anyone could. The crestfallen
pull at his eyes and mouth sent her irritation skittering to the side in favor
of a humongous heaping of guilt for making him feel bad. Without the aid of her
righteous indignation, her motivation to discuss difficult topics fell by the
wayside.
All
the same, she had little choice but to proceed. “I know you don’t mean to make
things worse, but you taking that tone and regarding me like that just makes me
remember it more than I already am. I want you to treat me like I’m me, not
like I’m some fragile victim.”
Sabrina
watched a drastic set of emotions play across Dallas’ face. She saw the way his
fists clenched and unclenched several times at his side, signifying that he
might not be able to meet her request as easily as she wanted him to.
She
persisted anyway. “Do you get what I’m saying?”
It
practically came out as a prayer, a desperate request for understanding. If a
person could be killed with kindness, she was sure Dallas would have taken her
out months ago.
When
he still didn’t respond, she took a deep, calming breath and started walking,
not bothering to wait for his brain to keep up any more than she did his feet.
And when he was at her side again, she threw him a bone.
“Look,
if being my escort tonight is going to be too difficult for you to handle, I
hereby absolve you of your duties. It was sweet of you to step in, but I’m sure
I can find someone else.” The truth was Sabrina had no idea whether that was
possible or not, but she cared too much about him and her own sanity to
distress either of them further if there was some way around it.
He
blinked, clearly taken aback. “Why would I not want to escort you?” His brain
must have still been working to process everything, because in the next breath,
his eyes went about as blank as he could possibly make them, and his tone
became flat. “Unless you don’t want to go with me.”
None
of his carefully closed-off walls meant Sabrina didn’t understand she’d just
hurt his feelings. It set her own emotions on another unplanned turn, which
wasn’t at all unusual around him. Her attitude toward Dallas switched a lot.
She couldn’t even blame her kidnapping trauma for that; he’d had that effect on
her right from the start.
“You’re
impossible,” she informed him, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Do you know
that?”
“I’m
sorry?” He was right back to not knowing what to say.
That
was it. She gave up. “Come on. Let’s just go dance.”
“Do
you still want me to distract you?”
“Sure,”
Sabrina agreed amiably enough. “Why not. Watcha wearin’ tonight? Some snooty
faerie designer I’ve never heard of?”
She
was relieved to hear him laugh at that, the sound just as genuine as every
other attitude he’d displayed in the last five minutes.
“Aerifeth.
That’s what I normally wear to these things.”
Sabrina
nodded despite not recognizing the brand. Her experiences in Faeriedom were
still rather limited since she didn’t like straying too far from the automatic
protection and comfort the palace offered. Fortunately for her, there were
plenty of things to do in her new home. Even the dance studio she’d been
practicing at was safe and sound inside her brother’s beautiful fortress.
Ten
hallways later, they’d arrived at their destination; and seven minutes more
meant she was in Dallas’ arms, gliding across the floor as best as she could to
a beautiful and intricate tune. The original piece was by a legendary composer,
who wasn’t anywhere so human as his fans upstairs assumed. The rendition Sabrina
had chosen was even less so, filled with dueling pianos and lilting flutes and
instruments she couldn’t name that made it an evocative depiction of Celtic
life from centuries ago.
It
never failed to make her heart melt, even if it didn’t have such softer effects
on her feet.
A
quick glance at the mirrored walls around them showed that her face was
squidged up in concentration just as expected. She didn’t like the mirrors when
she was dancing, though she hadn’t said as much to anyone other than Deanda.
They were supposed to give her insight into what she was doing and how she was
doing it. Yet she felt like they just added to her stress levels in the end.
When
she’d gotten the privilege of watching other faeries dance in the room, it was
quite the different experience. They managed to make every angle and reflection
look intricate and easy, powerful and delicate all at once, a combination she
aspired to with very little actual hope but a lot of wistful delusion.
For
all that, the mirrors were only half of the room’s charm: the lower half, to be
specific. Fashioned with pure white oak, the rest of the walls were carved into
simple perfection at the base. Similarly sturdy beams then branched out into
delicate tendrils from the top of the reflective glass all the way up to the
pinnacle of the vaulted ceiling. And as for the rest of the space above, it was
covered with a beautiful mural of faeries done up in various shades of the
royal green.
Oddly,
the painting didn’t depict the figures as dancing, a detail Sabrina still found
odd considering the room’s single purpose. Instead, they appeared frozen
dreamily, their wings raised, though not necessarily in movement. Their specific
tilts expressed too much for her to imagine them in flight. If anything, it
made her think they were involved in a very different activity altogether.
The
detail that saved the painting from being racy was that it quite simply was
not. All the figures, both male and female were fully clothed, their bodies
poised in modest and respectful positions. It was just their wings that belied
their otherwise tasteful appearance.
Seeing that intriguing dichotomy had a habit
of putting her in a somewhat introspective mood. Twice already, she’d caught
herself wondering whether that was why she enjoyed the interlude so much
between when the music started and the dancing began. That was the lull between
finding herself in Dallas’ arms and having to worry about what her feet should
be doing. Perhaps the emotional reaction she had to that pause was more about
the room’s romantic feel, and less to do with her and him specifically.
Then again, Sabrina admitted to herself,
maybe Deanda was right and she was trying to delude herself out of wanting
something that could hurt her.
If that was the case, then the room had
another definite perk. Because when she was in it with Dallas, he couldn’t shy
away from her like she was a leper. He had to hold her firmly, guiding her on
the floor like they were just a regular couple instead of two victims trying so
hard to forget that they’d ever had less than perfect control of their lives.
Sabrina cast a sad smile at her feet
when the song stopped and Dallas moved back a step or two, rocking awkwardly on
his heels. That aspect of the dance had been nice while it lasted, and she’d
have another opportunity to enjoy it just as soon as her instructor Lynsey told
her what she had done wrong.
Because there was always something she’d
done wrong.
Sure enough, the attractive brunette was
already waltzing over to them, her steps a dance in and of themselves. On the
bright side, she was noticeably smiling, her arched wings depicting the same
happy emotion in her eyes, which featured a few permanent laugh lines.
“Sabrina,” she trilled, her hands moving
animatedly in the air ahead of her. “Your technique was amazing this time. Now
all you need to do is learn how to relax. Have fun! You’re dancing with one of
Faeriedom’s most eligible bachelors, you know.”
Dallas rolled his eyes, a faint blush
covering his cheeks.
Sabrina covered up her own embarrassment
with sarcasm, her usual defense tactic. “Why do you think I’m so nervous?”
Lynsey let out a little laugh when her
student went on to fan her face like she might swoon, but she still shook her
head. “If such a handsome young man can’t tempt you into relaxing, then we need
to think of something that will.”
“How about not having to dance in front
of a whole group of strangers?” Sabrina suggested smartly.
“Nice try,” her instructor warned,
though even that came out sounding lovely. As well as preoccupied. She shook
her head in thought. “I would suggest imagining people in their underwear, but
that might be more traumatizing than it’s worth considering some of the people
I know who will be in attendance tonight.”
Dallas snorted in dry amusement, thereby
drawing attention his way.
“Maybe it’s your fault,” Lynsey mused.
“How are you holding her? Show me.”
She might have been little and admirably
peppy, but when Dallas opened his mouth to protest, all she needed to do was
give him a single warning look. Without any actual words of protest, he uttered
a “right, ma’am” and then waited patiently for her to turn the music back on.
When they swept onto the dance floor a moment later, Sabrina very nearly felt
green with envy at how natural they made it look.
It made her wonder whether Dallas was
working extra hard to prove Lynsey’s accusation incorrect, or if she herself
was to blame for keeping him from looking so phenomenal as a general rule.
The probable answer was not one she
cared for.
Lynsey’s flowing white skirt swirled
around her legs with every step and turn she took, a dreamy image that managed
to sour Sabrina’s already shaky mood. As hard as she tried not to be jealous,
she wanted what her instructor had so badly, from her cheerful disposition to
her ease with the ins and outs of faerie life. The woman would have no problem
behaving gracefully tonight, whereas Sabrina knew how very off-kilter her own
royal tiara could be.
The song ended and the dance partners
pulled apart from each other, but Sabrina’s mood didn’t lift one bit. If Lynsey
sensed that, she didn’t show it. What she did do was push her student back into
Dallas’ arms.
Not expecting the shove, Sabrina fell
rather helplessly against Dallas, who caught her on instinct. Maybe she
imagined it, but it almost seemed like he held onto her a little longer than
necessary.
She knew her hands lingered on him.
“I want to see you two try again,”
Lynsey instructed. “And no slacking off on your part, Dallas,” she warned with
a teasing glare.
They started into the routine again, but
she stopped them before they had finished the second turn. Striding over, the
bubbly brunette shifted Dallas’ hand a smidgen lower on Sabrina’s back.
“There. Now she’ll be able to follow
your lead better.” Then to the other party involved: “Stop trying to do all the
work. That’s what he’s there for. You’re too busy concentrating on what you
need to do. Instead, let him take charge.”
Sabrina knew she was blushing madly even
before she did her best to fix her gaze on some spot between Dallas and
Lynsey’s heads. That perspective let her see her reflection, however; which,
sure enough, showed a starkly reddened complexion.
All the same, when their instructor
started up the music again, Sabrina did her best to do as instructed. The
evocative piece played around her, and she let it slide into more than just her
ears. This time, she allowed it to ease some of the tension in her mind and
shoulders and otherwise rigid spine. It wasn’t like she instantly lost the
majority of her qualms, but she was nonetheless able to cast off a noticeable fraction
of her inhibitions.
With each passing stanza, Sabrina felt
herself melt further into the picture of rolling green hills and gentle
sunrises the sounds evoked. If it had gone on for twenty minutes instead of
five, she thought she might be able to lose herself altogether. But sadly, the
remainder of the dance lesson didn’t last that long, much less the song. She
had scheduled just a half-hour session since she had plenty of other entries on
her to-do list before the ball began.
Thanking Lynsey and trying to act as
normal as possible when she said goodbye to Dallas, Sabrina left the dance
studio behind for the equivalent of the royal cafeteria. It wasn’t anywhere as
formal as the banquet halls the palace featured, but it was set up with a ritzy
buffet. As a general rule, the room wasn’t used at all, but they’d had it
running for the last few days considering the occasion and the hundreds of
guests who were either rooming in the palace or taking meals there away from
the glamorous hotels they were staying at.
Sabrina felt bad for the chefs who were
working nonstop behind the scenes regardless, but it seemed a particular shame
when their efforts were so very underappreciated with at least a quarter of the
guests. A lot of the ladies in attendance trended toward the salad bar alone,
much like they would in the human world upstairs. It was a little difficult not
to cave in and make a salad herself, but Sabrina couldn’t quite bring herself
to run with the crowd on this one. She liked her meats and carbohydrates way
too much to ever diet like real princesses apparently should.
Walking the richly carpeted path to the
cafeteria, she had to convince herself more than once not to dawdle. She really
didn’t want to make nice with a bunch of new acquaintances. It wasn’t that she
had automatic negative opinions of them per se; she was just getting tired of
all the festivities, which came complete with the constant need to entertain
someone or some group.
Her one and only consolation was that
Lauren, Dallas’ younger sister, had agreed to sit with her. They’d even
pre-arranged gestures for the teenaged faerie to use if Sabrina did or said
anything wrong. Extending one pinky finger meant to be careful, holding out her
thumb meant she was doing okay, and if she flexed her hand twice, Sabrina would
know that someone had just fudged the truth.
Just for unrefined kicks and giggles,
they’d also thrown in a signal to use if anyone behaved in a particularly
obnoxious fashion.
Sabrina hoped beyond hope that the little
pixie with the auburn hair was at their table already. There was no way she
wanted to arrive first, though it was too late to do anything about it one way
or the other. She was already approaching the opened double doors, where two
footmen stood in their palace finery. They wore full dress kits, which came
complete with household-green cummerbunds around their waists.
She couldn’t imagine having nothing to
do but stand there, yet they cast her genuine smiles nonetheless. It probably
wasn’t an expression they granted to everyone, but she’d long since gained a
reputation for being just as easy with the servants as her brother, who was
notoriously lax in that regard.
Stepping into the sizable room, Sabrina
took in all the gorgeous details with an absentminded appreciation for the
familiar. Part of her always enjoyed the aesthetics: the dark blue carpet with
the mauve walls and off-white trimmings, the strategically set food stations
with everything from fresh fruit to ethnic cuisine to the standard Scottish
breakfast fare she knew she would trend toward, and the round tables draped in
flawless ivory cloth. But the feature that most caught her attention was a
certain diminutive faerie across the room, who was waving both her hands and
bright pink and black polka-dotted wings to get her princess’ attention.
Already threading her way through the
tables, Sabrina did a double-take at the girl’s appearance, but she gave Lauren
an amused hug nonetheless when she reached her side. “New wings, huh?”
Dallas’ sister nodded excitedly. “I just
dyed them this morning.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at her
exuberance. “Is it permanent?”
Emitting a quick snort of amusement,
Lauren shook her head. “Nah. I woke up this morning and felt like making a fuss
tonight.”
New to the faerie scene as she was,
Sabrina could still guess well enough why the somewhat garish pattern might
scandalize a socially conservative group of people at a formal event. The neon
pink, however, wouldn’t have raised an eyebrow by itself. Her newfound land was
filled with eccentric fashion rules that Sabrina’s American and human
sensibilities were taking their sweet little time getting used to.
Lauren, who knew exactly what was what,
simply enjoyed being a rebel. Sabrina had to admire the girl’s spunk, though
she did inquire whether her friend was going to get kicked out of the grand
event. Since she was assured that wouldn’t be a problem, in large part because
Kenneth had such a soft spot for both Dallas and his sister, Sabrina was
therefore fine with it too.
“So is any of the rest of our party here
yet?” She asked, clinging to the silly hope that they’d all bailed.
Knowing full well what she was thinking,
Lauren gave her a sympathetic smile. “Vayanalette and Nat are both at the fruit
bar, and the others haven’t made it yet.”
Sabrina craned her neck just a little in
order to pick out the two in question. There was a cluster of women in the
general direction where Lauren was pointing.
“Am I going to like them?”
“I’m going to let you figure that one
out for yourself, Princess.” She grinned again, turning the title into a
mockery.
Sabrina cast a condescending glare back,
then started toward the food lines. From literally the second she met Lauren,
she had liked her, and that feeling hadn’t gone away. The two of them had been
joking about practically being sisters for a while now. But like real sisters,
the teen did get on her nerves sometimes. In true sibling fashion, she was a
lot like Dallas in that she was something of a skutch. So Sabrina had no real
qualms about expressing her exasperation when such irritating instances arose.
Over at the fruit bar, she picked up a
little cup of strawberries and raspberries along with vanilla yogurt. Then it
was right over to meats and breads to fix a breakfast bap with the specialized
sausage, bacon and poached egg. Sabrina did skip the baked beans though, just
to be on the safe side.
By the time she finished, Vayanalette
and Nat were already back in their seats, chatting happily with Lauren and a
newcomer who hadn’t yet sat down. Sabrina adopted a polite smile when she
approached the table, hoping that whoever the person was, she’d be worth
talking to. Most of the young people she had met so far were well versed in
politics and history and all the who’s-who of the faerie world. However, that
didn’t make them all interesting. Despite their supposed sophistication, too many
of them acted exactly like the masses, just with more money at their disposal.
The thing was, Sabrina could pull the
snob card better than most of them if she wanted to. Since faeries were
indigenous to just five places – England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales and Germany
– there were only five truly royal courts. And she belonged to one of them; not
that she would ever bring that up, no matter how much she might want to remind
certain individuals that they weren’t as amazing as they wanted to think.
Sabrina did her best to mask her own
prejudices with a friendly face and relaxed wings. Putting her plate down, she
offered her hand all around. “Hello. I’m Sabrina.”
The newcomer at the table thrust out her
own hand, her smile nothing short of radiant. “Hi, Sabrina. I’m Rose. It’s so
nice to meet you!”
On anyone else, the enthusiasm would
have been overdone. On the redhead with the beautiful brown eyes and the
autumn-themed wings, it seemed pretty natural. Moreover, that personality trait
made her quite the conversationalist during brunch. It wasn’t that she
monopolized the table so much; she asked questions and listened intently to the
answers. It just seemed as if she had a general zest for life that she couldn’t
keep contained very well.
Since Sabrina wasn’t about to stop her,
the little get-together passed by rather quickly and without Lauren needing to
use any of their preplanned warning gestures. By the time they got around to
saying their goodbyes, she could even say she’d enjoyed herself.
From there, it was over to help her
sister-in-law with a more formal event, and then Sabrina all but ran back to
her bedroom suite for what she planned to be a very short nap. She set her
alarm and everything; she just forgot to turn it on. So it was something of a
surprise when a speaking voice instead of a singing voice woke her up.
“Princess? Are you alright there?”
The feminine accent with its desperate
overtones broke through her dreams slowly at first.
“Princess, I need you to wake up now,”
the Irish lilt pressed. “You were supposed to be at your hairdresser
appointment fifteen minutes ago. You have to get up.”
The word “hairdresser” was what really
penetrated Sabrina’s sleep-focused and therefore bleary brain. She sat up
quickly, managing not to clock her personal assistant in the chin.
“Oh bugger,” she muttered, most of it
coming out as a yawn.
“‘Oh bugger’ is right.” Claire took a
quick swipe at her brown bangs before helping her up. “Catherine is freakin’
out!”
“I bet she is.” Sabrina dashed her
fingers across her tired eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
Her PA wasn’t about to stand around and
listen to apologies though. With a critical, “You look an awful mess,” Claire
dove into her boss’ walk-in closet and came out with a huge, fashionably floppy
hat. Plopping the white thing with the beautiful green bow down on her own
head, she flitted back over to start piling Sabrina’s static-ridden hair into a
makeshift bun. In that way, she was able to contain most of the bright yellow
mess in one more efficient movement, tucking in what wisps remained behind.
Standing back, she eyed her princess up
and down. “You’ll do. Now come on. Hup hup!”
Feeling more than self-conscious beneath
the wide brim, Sabrina tried to smile nonchalantly at the few people she and
her little entourage passed. She was exceptionally happy that most of the
female guests were in their rooms or at their own appointments getting ready
for the evening. And most of the men were engaged in a massive pool tournament
they’d rigged up earlier, complete with high stakes and some top-notch faerie-brand
cigars. Forget Cuba: Downstairs, the good smokes came from Germany.
Apparently, however, there was at least
one man in the palace who didn’t much care for cigars or pool. Either that or
he had other priorities, like picking on princesses who were running very late.
So Sabrina found herself stopped short by a deep, booming voice from behind
her. A Scottish voice, to be precise, and one doing a very bad job at an
American accent.
“Howdy, ma’am. Nice hat you have on that
pretty little head of yours.”
Sabrina would have known that bass
anywhere, masked or not. She didn’t need to see her bodyguards’ wings and arms
and entire selves stiffen in attention to know that her brother was making an
appearance. They were much more casual with Alistair, whom they saw a lot more
of.
She on the other hand, had no problem
giving the king just as good as he gave. He might be the faerie equivalent of
six-foot-three, with powerful green wings and a rugby player’s build, but he
didn’t scare her one bit. Particularly when he was needling her.
“That was the worst American accent I
have ever heard,” she began well before she was fully facing him. “And I’ve
heard some bad ones since coming over here, so that says something. What is up
with you people thinking everyone in the U.S. sounds like a sixties-era
Western?”
Holding a foot-long, black container
that came across as expensive right from the start, Kenneth chuckled. “How
about New York? Would that make it better?”
“I really doubt it,” she informed him,
then squealed in protest when he reached forward to grab her hat away. “Don’t
you dare! My hair looks horrible.”
Wings quivering with amusement and the
natural sibling need to antagonize, he tapped the brim anyway.
Her responding scowl didn’t faze him at
all, she could tell.
“You wouldn’t be mocking me if you knew
what I had in this box,” he assured somewhat smugly.
Not sure how to interpret that, she
regarded him suspiciously. “What’s in it?”
His green eyes, so similar to hers,
sparkled back. “Go ahead and give it to your hairdresser. She’ll know what to
do.”
Since Claire was twitching with
impatience beside her, more than ready to hurry them on their way, Sabrina
didn’t ask any more questions. Instead, she gave her brother a hug for whatever
“it” was, and then let her attendant drag her off to the date she was running
very behind for.
As expected, Catherine was not happy
when her royal client slid to a halt inside the very private hair salon.
Sabrina could have gotten there faster if she’d flown, but that was a major
faux pas indoors for some reason. She’d learned that early on and not the hard
way, for which she was very grateful.
In her opinion, the explanation about
why it was such a no-no still hadn’t been explained all that well. But she was
willing to chalk it up to a cultural oddity.
“Sit. Sit.” The leggy, perfectly-painted
woman with her designer jeans and manicured nails, pointed at one of the
silver-accented salon chairs. “You’re late.”
Princess or not, Sabrina knew when to
shut up and take orders. Sitting down without a word of dissent, she crossed
her legs at the ankle and folded her wings around herself as instructed. She’d
gotten her hair done often enough now to know the drill, but she still found
the required action annoying as Catherine secured a stylist’s wrap around her
shoulders. She hugged herself similarly whenever she went to bed, her wings
serving as a security blanket most nights. But having to sit still in the same
position while she was awake felt a lot less natural.
Sabrina nonetheless kept her wings
folded for her shampooing and beyond. A little less cranky now that she was
officially at work, Catherine carried on a conversation with the same kind of
skill as the way she wound her princess’ locks this way and that.
Much of what she said was about Italian
Prince Antonio Vatuicci, who was a notorious playboy. His exploits regularly
ran the length and breadth of faerie gossip networks, and it didn’t seem like
he minded the attention considering the mischievous smiles he wore more often
than not in the circulating pictures. At one point, he had even taken up a
whole half of one sensational magazine cover while a certain Scottish princess graced
the other side, each with their own “breaking news” stories. With that said,
all three women had to agree he was quite the photogenic philanderer.
That was right before Catherine paused
to ask for the not-so-little black box Sabrina had brought in with her. If her
tone was any indication, she seemed to know what was inside and when to use it,
which was a step up from Sabrina.
“Claire,” the stylist called out, her
tone exceptionally bossy.
Sabrina winced, knowing how much her
personal assistant would dislike that attitude. There was some bad blood
between the two faeries, which she’d learned after one particular eventful
episode not that long ago.
But there were no fireworks this time.
Instead, Claire played dumb, blinking a little too stupidly while she swept her
brunette bangs back for the umpteenth time. “Yes?”
Catherine sighed the sigh of a
long-sufferer. Either that or a prima donna. “The box?”
“What about it?” Again with the clueless
voice.
“Would you be so kind as to bring it
here please?” Her tone was now pure ice.
“Oh.” Several more blinks ensued. “Of
course.”
With a well-aimed glare, Catherine accepted
the case to open it up. Yet just like that, the tension between them faded into
a mere background detail as the three women peered at what it held.
Inside, a stunning silver tiara was
displayed against black velvet.
It wasn’t all that large, composed of a
small, silver band that came close to disappearing into Sabrina’s hair when Catherine
slipped it into place. The front portion of the crown sloped upward several
inches in a gentle tangle of silver wisps and exquisite diamonds.
Even with half of her locks clipped up
or hanging out in disarray, Sabrina had to admit that the tiara looked good on
her. She’d even go so far as to say it looked right.
That was a definite plus considering
what she was getting dressed up for.
After the oohing and aahing subsided,
Claire went back to her seat against the wall and Catherine went back to work,
combing out and curling up and spraying around. Fascinated, Sabrina watched as
much of it as she could until it was done and there was nothing to stare at but
perfection. Silvery-blue wings quivering in pride, Catherine handed her a
mirror to see the exquisite arrangement from all angles.
Sabrina’s hair was mostly swept back off
her face, gathered into a pile of curls that rested all around the back of her
head. That alone would have been elegant, but then there were the artful wisps
designed to escape the tangle in distracting form. They fell down her neck,
with a few more dangling around her ears and two less spiraled strands closer
to her face.
It was those last locks that kept the
style from being too old-fashioned against Sabrina’s pixie-cute face. They
added just the right touch of girlish personality to an otherwise very grown-up
look.
Looking at herself like that, tiara and
all, her nerves slid away in favor of excitement for perhaps the first time
that day. She couldn’t wait to see how her dress looked against the hair.
“It’s gorgeous,” Sabrina breathed, her
eyes wide with delight. “Absolutely beautiful.”
“Good.” Catherine beamed briefly before
forcing her smile into the kind of disapproving frown most artists knew how to utilize.
“Because I had to rush it since you were late, so let’s seriously hope it stays
the way it’s supposed to.”
Awestruck though she was, Sabrina fought
the urge to say or do something snarky right back. Being gracious, even in the
face of the opposite, was all part and parcel of being a princess, she reminded
herself. So she let the snippy comment roll off her wings, thanking Catherine
once again and then gliding down the hallways back to her room.
This time, there was nobody about other
than Claire, Gerard and Simon. Sabrina had a feeling that was on purpose, like
a parade blocked off before the floats started coming down. Being the silly
romantic he was, her brother would have made sure nobody could see her during
her in-between stage of getting ready for the party.
They made it back to the room, where her
security team took their spots on either side of the door after she slipped
through. Deanda was already in there, lounging against the one bedpost in her
own attire.
Not that it was any big surprise, but
she looked like a knockout.
Decked in a red strapless gown, a
Kisseyin original, she was both classic and classy in the floor-length
ensemble. Gently creased from fitted bust to hemline, the dress had a thick,
scarlet sash around its empire-waist, and a scarlet underskirt that showed for
the last few inches at the bottom. It kept her strappy high heels almost
completely covered beneath the fabric. Meanwhile, up top, a delicate pearl
strand graced her neck, and two same-sized pearls dangled from her ears to
finish off the look.
Each one of the details complimented her
dark hair, and black and white wings.
“You look stunning!” Sabrina exclaimed
at the same time Deanda’s eyed widened in appreciation for “Your hair!”
They barely got the chance to laugh
about that before the royal dressmaker arrived, complete with sewing kit and
two attendants. Enar had Sabrina undressing right away so they could finish
fitting her down to the last tiny stitch. Everything was going to be perfect,
the seamstress assured.
Unlike with Catherine, Enar knew how to
perform her art without an attitude. So Sabrina smiled much more easily at the
Scottish matron with the tiger-lily wings. They’d been working together for
months to design the perfect dress, and the finished result was a masterpiece
with or without whatever last-minute nitpicking she planned to add.
A cheerful green that perfectly matched
one of the slighter shades in her wings, it cut in a fetching but modest sweetheart
neckline. That had been at Sabrina’s specific request. Once upon a time, she
wouldn’t have minded showing off what her mama gave her for special occasions.
These days though, a nunnery didn’t sound so bad, complete with long robes and
habits.
Despite her Stewart-inspired neurosis,
she had to admit she looked good in the gown. The A-line pattern featured thin
straps that were made out of tiny, disconnected strands of diamonds; and more
of the same laced the very top of her gown from front to back, as well as
around her hemline and the slits for her wings. The tiny stones could have
looked tacky, but the rich, ruched fabric they lay on was more than enough to
demand the lion’s share of attention.
There were larger diamonds for her
choker and bracelet, making for a dazzling finish that had Sabrina’s thoughts
skittering where they had no purpose going. Alex had bought her a diamond
necklace their last Valentine’s Day together. It had been just a very simple
pendent, but she had loved it anyway.
If he could have been there with her
right then, she thought he would have been rendered speechless. But he never
would see her like that, or like anything again for that matter. He was back in
the United States, alive and doing fairly well according to the last report
she’d requested. Yet well or not, he was out of her life for good.
She could feel the tears well up in her
eyes.
Claire, who had been busy expertly
applying her makeup, yelped in concern. Deanda rushed forward with a tissue,
startling Enar, who was crouching on the floor making some infinitesimal
adjustment.
Somehow, everyone managed to not trip
over each other while saving Sabrina’s mascara. It was supposed to be smudge
proof, but only after drying appropriately.
The real factor that kept her from turning
into a sniffling, sobbing mess was Deanda, who gave her hand a quick squeeze. It
was a welcome reminder that she could get through tonight because she didn’t
have to get through it alone.
Sabrina squeezed right back. And then
she set Alex out of her mind. He wasn’t part of her future. She had a whole new
world to welcome, and so welcome it she would with her head held high and her
makeup perfectly set.
That might be because she didn’t have much of a
choice in the matter. But she was going to take it on and take it down anyway.
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