When she was unbuttoned, I pulled off my own dress, needing no assistance to extract myself from its forgiving design. When she turned around I flushed, profoundly grateful that Tristan had his back turned. Fully clothed she was the most beautiful girl I had ever met. Half-naked, I was certain she was every man’s fantasy. Beside her, I felt like the troll. Shorter, plumper, with a smaller chest and a bigger behind.
We put on each other’s clothes, her dress so tight I could hardly breathe and mine hanging off her slender frame. Then she pulled off her shoes and as she settled onto her bare feet, I realized she wasn’t all that much taller than me after all. “You’re short for a troll.”
She raised one finger to her lips and then handed me the shoes. “No one needs to know that.”
I put them on, wobbling on the high platforms and wondering how I would get more than two steps without falling. In the meantime, Ana?s pulled a black wig out of her bag, along with a golden-framed mirror. “Hair is tricky,” she muttered.
It took a bit of doing to get all of my red hair tucked beneath the wig, and my ribs began to ache from my extra-tight corset. Sweat trickled down my back as I took one shallow breath after another. Ana?s held up the mirror and examined her face. “Now for the illusion,” she said, and her brow furrowed in concentration. I watched in amazement as her black hair turned red and her features shifted until the girl looking back at me was my mirror image.
“Now, for you.”
Warm magic washed over my face, but otherwise I could feel nothing. “Done,” she said, my face smirking in a way that betrayed the girl lurking underneath. I’d never make that face. She handed me the mirror and I held it up to my face. An unhappy looking Ana?s stared out at me, silver eyes and all.
“You shouldn’t frown like that,” she said. “You’ll get wrinkles.”
I lifted my hand and made a gesture that was extremely unladylike.
Blue eyes widened and Ana?s-as-me shrugged. “Just saying. Tristan, you can turn around now.”
He turned and looked from one of us to the other. “It will do.” He took my hand and squeezed it in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring. But it wasn’t. All this costuming and deception was just a step in the process of us being torn apart. “Please don’t make me do this, Tristan,” I whispered. “I don’t want to go.”
He shook his head. “I have to know, Cécile.” He bent to kiss me, but I turned away, not fond of the idea that he’d be kissing Ana?s’s face, not mine.
“This is all very touching,” Ana?s said, interrupting. “But my magic tends to grow bored and wander if unattended. You’ve got maybe half an hour with my face and then it will fade.”
Tristan nodded. “Where will you be?”
“In the glass gardens, wandering around and looking forlorn.”
“Are you certain you want to do this, Ana?s?” Tristan and Ana?s stared at each other for several long moments. I flinched at their familiarity. It was something he and I had never had. “He won’t let you off easily for helping me.”
“I’ve never said ‘no’ to you, Tristan. Never denied you anything.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “And I never will.” They exchanged more long looks, and then Ana?s turned and walked out, comfortable in my flat shoes.
Tristan waited a few moments and then took me by the arm, leading me back into the city and down the valley towards the River Road. I walked blindly, not seeing anything or anyone. It took every ounce of control to keep my face serene, my steps even on Ana?s’s impossibly high shoes. “Don’t say anything,” Tristan muttered. “They’ll recognize your voice.”
My nerves reached a fevered pitch as we approached the heavily armed and very imposing trolls standing to either side of the gate. They bowed low and one of them lifted the heavy bar holding the gate shut. It swung open silently on greased hinges.
“Haven’t noticed any fallen rock, my lord,” one of the trolls said.
“There’s never a problem until there is,” Tristan said, his arm drawing me forward.
The incline of the road was steep, the rock smooth, and everything was slick with water. We hadn’t gone far when I was forced to take off my shoes and walk barefoot. The road was perhaps ten feet wide, and the river, white with rapids, flowed only a few feet below.
Tristan didn’t look at me as we walked, but he did let go of my arm to take my hand instead. I held on as tight as I could, trying to memorize the way his skin felt beneath mine, the way his thumb rubbed the tops of my knuckles. Every step I took was one closer to the moment he’d make me leave him. When I saw the glow of sunlight appear ahead, fear lanced through me. It was the end of the tunnel. It was the end of us.
And the fear wasn’t just mine. Tristan’s dread had grown into something close to terror as we neared the light at the end of the tunnel.
“Will it do anything if you get too close?” I asked, suddenly uneasy.