“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Jay-jay.”
“Meyers and Perez will escort you to the party. Dez will drive, but I got him to pick up a new car. If anyone’s tracking our fleet, they’re going to miss him coming and going.” Jason held out a piece of paper that Nim snatched from his hand. “If you need to reach him, use this number. I got him an encrypted burner cell.”
“An encrypted burner cell?” Alia repeated. “You just had one lying around?”
“Alia, what do I always tell you?”
“That you only watch reality TV as an anthropological exercise.”
Nim cackled, and Jason rolled his eyes.
“No,” he said. “Enjoy the best, but prepare for the worst.”
“Wise, Jason,” said Nim. “So wise. Ever notice how hard it is to enjoy something when you’re preparing for the worst?”
He ignored her. “Theo and I will meet you at the party at eight thirty. Don’t be late.”
“Oh lord, Theo’s coming?” said Nim. “Talk about preparing for the worst.”
“And what about…” Diana hesitated. “Our ride home?”
Jason gave a single grim nod. “It will be ready to go.” He shut the door.
“Thanks for the invite!” Nim called after him.
Jason’s voice floated back through the door. “Just don’t set fire to anything.”
Nim pirouetted and struck a pose. “Nothing but the dance floor. Who’s hungry?”
—
A cold supper had been laid out for them in the kitchen, and Diana realized there must be staff here, servants who came and went barely seen. She hoped Jason’s faith in their loyalty was justified, and that both he and Alia were right about the party being a worthwhile risk. Even so, she was glad that they weren’t leaving for Greece right away. Once they’d broken the Warbringer line, Diana would have to return home to whatever consequences might be waiting. With Jason’s jet at the ready, she could at least enjoy a few more hours to observe the mortal world. There was so much to see, and if she was honest with herself, she could admit there was something to be said for being Diana Prince, something freeing about being judged on her own words and actions, instead of her origins or her mother’s choices.
As they hovered around the kitchen counter, piling food onto their plates, Diana wondered if Alia and Jason ever used the huge dining room or threw parties on their grand terrace. Or was it always just the two of them and the occasional trusted friend, sharing this huge home with the ghosts of Alia and Jason’s parents, eating standing up at their counter, looking out at the beautiful view?
Diana had felt so alone on Themyscira, but Alia was just as isolated in this massive city—maybe more so. The palace at the Epheseum was large, but it had been built as a communal space, one where people came and went to seek audience with their queen, where classes were taught. The women who served Diana and her mother were also their friends, the same people with whom they ate and trained. Everyone served Themyscira in some way, but they were all warriors, all equals. It was one of the reasons many believed there should be no queen at all, just an elected council. Maybe this quest would free both Diana and Alia. Maybe it would give Diana a chance to truly belong among her sisters and Alia the opportunity to live her life with some measure of peace.
“Funny how you neglected to mention that Theo Santos is going to be there tonight,” Nim said as she stuffed her mouth full of cheese.
“I didn’t know,” said Alia.
“You should have told me so I could better gauge how much cleavage you wanted to show.”
“First you’d have to find me some.”
“Who’s Theo Santos?” Diana asked, selecting a cluster of grapes from a bowl.
“Jason’s junior sidekick.”
“He’s a family friend,” said Alia.
“Hot in a gangly, not-hot-at-all way.”
“He’s objectively attractive,” Alia protested.
“He’s a complete loser. He spends all his time over here or in some dark room gaming and avoiding actual human contact.”
Alia tossed a carrot at Nim. “Actual human contact is overrated.”
When the dresses arrived, Perez went down to retrieve them with Nim in tow. They returned with two metal racks laden with large dark bags dangling from hangers, which Meyers helped carry upstairs. Diana felt a bit guilty watching them struggle up the steps, but she thought it best to let them manage on their own.
Back in Alia’s room, Nim immediately began unzipping the bags and yanking them off to reveal swaths of shimmering fabric and beading. There were several smaller bags filled with just shoe boxes and sheer wraps.
Alia sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”
Diana nudged her with her elbow. “Armor, remember?”
Alia squared her shoulders and took her pile of dresses into the bathroom. “Those who are about to die salute you.”
“I don’t know why I even bother,” grumbled Nim as they perched on Alia’s bed to wait. “She always picks the most boring thing on the rack, always in basic black. If it’s shaped like a sack, even better.”
“Maybe it feels easier that way, just being invisible instead of always worrying what people think of you.”
Nim’s voice was surprisingly emphatic. “But that’s a choice, too, right? Because people are always going to look. They’re always going to judge, so you can say nothing or you can at least answer back.”
Diana had the sense that Nim wasn’t talking about Alia at all. The tiny girl’s clothes were distinctive, her manner of speech decisive. But her confidence was vibrant and spiky, like a bright flower guarded by thorns.
“What do you think people see when they look at you?”
Nim turned to her. “What do you see?”
“A bold girl. Talented and audacious.”
Nim dropped backward in an exaggerated swoon. “Could you just stay forever?”
“What was that thing you and Alia did?” Diana said, trying to remember. “Bubble, bubble….It was a play on Shakespeare, wasn’t it?”
Nim propped herself up on her elbows. “I know it’s goofy.”
“What does it mean?”
Nim slid off the bed and crossed the room to where a collage of her and Alia was propped on a dresser. She plucked a photo from the frame and held it up: three girls in shredded black robes with pointy hats. “When Alia and I were freshmen, we both got cast as witches in Macbeth along with this Thai kid, Preeda. That’s right, out of the whole school, they cast the three ethnic kids as witches. People would see us in the hall and pretend to shriek and cry. They thought it was hilarious.”
Diana had always regretted not growing up with other children, but that sounded awfully cruel. “What did you do?”
Nim tucked the photo back into the collage. “We just went for it. We cackled and went berserk every night and made sure to always get our lines wrong. Bubble, bubble.”
Diana smiled. “Make some trouble.”
“Come on, Alia!” Nim shouted at the closed bathroom door. “You have to pick one, and we all know it’s going to be the black dress with the long sleeves so you can schoolmarm it up—”
The door opened, and Nim’s jaw dropped.
“She didn’t pick the black one,” Diana observed.
“No shit,” breathed Nim.
Alia wore a dress of shimmering gold scales that moved like light glinting off water—no, like the sun off a warrior’s helm.
“Did you hit your head in Turkey?” Nim said in disbelief.
Alia grinned at Diana and cocked her hip. “Armor.”
They were more than a little late. Nim pinned up half of Alia’s braids in a crown and wove a gold chain through them, then chose a garnet-colored jumpsuit for herself that she paired with terrifyingly high heels. She picked a strapless, midnight-blue gown for Diana. The fabric was of a fine quality, but it felt stiff around the waist and hugged her hips too tightly, as if it had been constructed with little thought to comfort.
“It looks good,” said Alia. “Elegant.”
Diana frowned. “I wish it had another slit up the side.”
“One is classy, two is trashy,” said Nim.