“That’s fine, Clover.” I scan the dressing table in front of me and its overwhelming landscape of bottles. There can’t be much left to do. I check off my beauty-accomplishments on my fingertips. “First, make-up’s finished. Second, hair’s done. Third, my Scala robes are on. All I need is my over-gown, am I right?”
More knocks sound. Clover frowns. “Now, who can that be?” She rushes over to the door. “Who calls upon the Great Scala?”
No answer.
“I said, who calls upon the Great Scala?”
Still, no reply.
A creepy feeling makes the hairs along my arms stand on end. Something about this feels off.
Clover pauses a moment longer, and then shrugs. “Ah, well. There’s always a new servant getting lost in the Arx. Where were we?” Clover claps her hands together at her waist. “Ah, I have it now. Your over-gown. I’ll fetch it.” She disappears into the walk-in closet, followed by much rustling of fabric. “I know they delivered it earlier today. One minute, please.”
“No worries.”
To kill time, I step to the window and look out on the Rixa lands beyond. Nothing less than gorgeous. I pictured Antrum as a series of tiny and dark caves, but that’s not true when it comes to Rixa territory. The caverns here are massive and filled with white light. Columns of opaque crystals scale up the walls at funky angles. The ceiling’s lined with the hexagon-ends of those same glassy white stones, making an artsy, uneven pattern. A loose forest of white crystal trees extends below my window.
I watch the scenery another minute before I get bored. Looking out windows isn’t my thing, really. Besides, I do need to get ready. I change my focus from the external Rixa lands, looking instead at the reflection of my room’s interior.
What I find mirrored in the windowpane surprises me to the core.
There, reflected in the glass, I see Clover still standing by the closet door. But that’s not what truly astounds me. It’s her eyes. Moments ago, they were the classic-thrax mismatch of brown and blue. Now, they glow bright red. Demon eyes.
A mixture of terror and shock press in on my lungs, making it hard for me to breathe. This can’t be happening. Impossible.
Clover speaks to me in a creepy, monotone voice. “Don’t you look pretty?” With every lifeless word she speaks, a fresh chill rolls through my belly.
Spinning around, I face her once again, only to find that her irises have returned to their mismatched state. No demonic light at all. Shock squeezes the air from my chest once again.
I force myself to speak, despite my panting breaths. “What did you just say to me?”
“Did I say something?” Clover’s face looks so round and innocent, it’s hard to imagine the demon-red eyes I saw a moment ago. I wish I could find that comforting, but the realization only rockets my anxiety higher.
“So sorry,” gushes Clover. “I must have daydreamed there for a moment. The Queen’s visit has me all a-flutter. Where was I, again?”
Remember to breathe, Myla. Stay calm.
I watch her carefully, like she’ll burst into demon-from at any second. “The over-gown.”
“Right, right. Won’t be moment.” She disappears into the closet.
I pace in front of the window, my mind trying to process this latest turn of events. Clover eyes turned red while she spoke in a strange monotone. That reminds me of something—maybe more than one thing—but with so much going on, I can’t place the memory. My warrior sense rails through me, strong as an electric current.
Danger, Myla.
A fresh knock sounds from across the room, followed by a familiar-but-muffled voice. “You’re late, my dear.”
I rush over and open the door, finding a portly woman in a simple black gown. It’s Bera, Octavia’s handmaiden. I haven’t seen her since the last thrax tournament, when she helped me with my armor.
“Bera. So nice to see you.” Actually, it’s not all that nice. I’d rather have a few minutes of quiet to sort things out, but the look in Bera’s mismatched eyes says that won’t happen. My hands ball into frustrated fists. After what I just saw, I can’t rush off to the Ball. “I need a few minutes.”
“You need to leave. Queen’s orders. Can’t be late.” Bera pats her grey hair, checking that it’s all in place. “They only play the fanfare once, and tonight, it’s for you. If you miss that trumpet music, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Right.” Octavia’s only warned me about the fanfare a hundred times. I rise to my feet and head towards the door. “We better go.”
“You wearing them robes tonight? I thought the Queen made you an over-gown.”
A queasy feeling settles into my stomach. Clover’s eyes plus the missing betrothal jewels add up to trouble. Somehow, Antrum is unsafe. And if I have to face trouble, then I don’t want to do it in a fancy over-gown. No, I want my Scala robes only, so I’m ready to transform them into armor at a moment’s notice. Resolve steels through me, straightening my back and shoulders.
“No, I’m going Scala traditional tonight.”
Bera eyes me for a long moment. “Fair enough. They’ll be plenty of other Balls for you.” She reaches her plump hand towards me. “Let’s go.”
I take her hand and smile, but inside, my warrior sense still screams.
Danger, Myla. Danger, Danger.