“The lord provides,” said Cera.
The two oneiroi workmen approached. The smaller of them met Ursula’s gaze. “The window is in—airtight. The lord protected all the windows with his magic. Nothing will destroy the glass now. You’re safe inside here.”
“Thank you so much,” she said. Thank the gods. She wouldn’t have been able to relax in here, knowing that a man on a giant bat could shatter the glass at any moment.
As Sotz flew off outside, the two workmen left the apartment.
Cera turned back to Ursula with a mischievous grin. “The lord spent the night in your quarters.”
“Not like that.”
Cera’s eyes widened. “He hasn’t come in here in centuries. I think it’s because it pains him to see the portrait.”
Ursula frowned, glancing at the spot on the wall where the portrait had hung. Someone had removed it during the night. “Of the woman? Why?”
Cera’s hand flew to her mouth. “I should not have spoken.”
Well, now I have to know. She touched Cera’s arm. “You can tell me. Who else am I going to tell? You’re my only friend here.”
Cera’s eyes shifted frantically from side to side. She was obviously trying to decide how much she was allowed to tell Ursula.
Finally, she whispered, “The lord’s wife, gods protect her soul.”
Her jaw dropped. “He was married? I had no idea. Did she die in the attack?”
“No. It was long ago, long before my time. I should never have said anything.” Cera backed toward the door. “It’s not my place to talk about the lord’s life.”
Her face even paler than usual, Cera hurried out the door, slamming it behind her.
Chapter 16
On the day of the Selection of Champions, Ursula’s stomach was twisted in knots. She filled the bath with warm, lavender-scented water, trying to soothe away her nerves, but one terrifying thought rang loudly in her skull.
Today, she would find out exactly who Bael had to kill.
If he failed, he’d forfeit his life. Terrifying and gruff as he might be, she didn’t want him to die. And moreover, if he lost, she’d be joining him in the afterworld.
Or worse—Abrax would enslave her for an eternity of sadistic torment.
As she soaked her body in the bath, Cera’s voice rang out from the living room. “Hello? Ursula?”
“In the bath!” she shouted.
“Good. You’ve started preparing yourself. I’ve brought you a new dress for the ceremony. Everything must be perfect!” she shouted. “We must help the lord by making everything perfect!”
Ursula winced at the shrill tone. Apparently, I’m not the only one plagued by nerves. She rose from the bath, grabbing a towel. She wrapped it around herself and then stepped into the living room.
Wearing the gray coat, Cera stood in the center of the room, her knuckles white as she clutched a box. A bag hung over one of her arms. “I have pressed the lord’s clothes to perfection. He will have not a wrinkle on him before the other lords. Mortal or not, they will know his glory through his divine beauty.” Her eyes were wide, slightly frantic.
Ursula held up the towel with one hand, taking the box from Cera with the other. She flashed a placating smile. The little oneiroi was losing it.
Still, Cera wasn’t kidding about Bael’s divine beauty, though Ursula wasn’t going to admit it.
She dropped the box on a chair. “Why doesn’t Bael look like a demon, like the other lords? They all have horns and creepy eyes.”
“Nothing creepy about silver eyes,” snapped Cera. “But as for how the lord looks, you’d do best to mind your own business. Open the box.”
With one hand, Ursula pried off the top of the box. Tucked neatly inside were tiny silver knickers, and a dress of a gorgeous midnight blue, the fabric so thin and sheer it almost seemed enchanted.
“Wow,” said Ursula. “This looks amazing.”
She saw the beaming smile on Cera’s face before the oneiroi turned around to give her privacy. “All the great ladies will be dressed in their finest clothes. I wouldn’t want Abelda House to fall short.”
Ursula pulled off her towel, the stepped into the lacy silver underwear. When she picked up the dress, she gasped. It was stunning—a delicate gown, dappled with silver gems around the belted waist. She pulled it over her head, and the silky fabric brushed over her thighs. Like the dress she’d worn before, a V neck plunged down to her belly button. The sheer fabric gathered at the waist, providing just enough coverage for her lower half. But if she extended a leg, she saw that the dress had a slit all the way up to the top of her thigh.
“Gorgeous,” she said.
Cera turned, grinning. “I knew it would be perfect. It’s skimpier than the ladies of the Shadow Realm wear, but you’re a hellhound. Everyone will expect you to be a harlot anyway,” she chirped, rifling around in her bag.