“Now for her hair,” Solara declared. She could have been directing ships into battle with how seriously she coordinated the placement of my endless, unruly waves. After enough concoctions were sprayed on them and more glowing wands waved and thrust like swords, they soon fell in something like a braid, though only in the loosest sense of the word. My hair more resembled a black waterfall, twining and cascading over one shoulder. In the various flowing twists, Solara instructed the maids to weave in strands of glittering white jewels, which were likely worth more than my ship. It was a waterfall sparkling in the starlight.
Unlike my face, I couldn’t help admiring it. But then, with a fierce heat in my chest, I decided that I would much rather have the Kaitan than a few strings of sparkly rocks. The Dracortes would not change that while simply fixing my hair. They could never make me value my ship any less, or take it from me in any way.
My dark eyes looked deadly in the mirror before I quickly smoothed my face. Still, I tried to hold on to the image of the Kaitan like an energy shield to deflect whatever else was coming at me.
“Done!” Solara decreed. “Your dress mod should be done as well, by now. I’ll retreat to my quarters to get into my own gown—with only four of you,” she added, as the maids rushed to attend her. “Ollava, you make sure Qole is properly looked after. We wouldn’t want her foiling everything we worked so hard to achieve, would we?”
“No, my princess.” Ollava said it like she meant it, and shot me a warning look. I fired a glare right back at her before I could stop myself.
Deep breaths…
I had no choice but to surrender myself to five eager pairs of hands as Solara swept out of the room. I honestly believed they would have tackled me if I’d tried to run from them. These maids were destroyers, ushering me into a dress like the fleet had escorted the Kaitan into Dracorva. Both parties threatened an equally aggressive response if I didn’t comply.
One pair of hands even covered my eyes, blinding me, and I heard Ollava’s shocked voice say, “Silly girl! Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see the dress before you’re wearing it?”
No, I’d had no idea, as a matter of fact. And I didn’t think this evening could get much worse, bad luck or not, but I closed my eyes, clenched my jaw, and let their hands have their way with me. And yet…without sight, being dressed was sensual rather than intrusive. Soft material slithered over and then hugged the skin of my chest and waist, falling over my hips like water to swirl around my legs. Nothing needed to be loosened or tightened, like it always did when I had my leather gear fitted to me on Alaxak.
My shame suddenly widened, deepened, darkened, like I was falling into a pit. Black fury caught me. How could I like even a small part of this? The dress held me flawlessly, no doubt thanks to the accurate image that Solara had generated of my body. They were treating me like a doll, a pet, and I was letting them. A maid lifted my feet, one at a time, and slid them onto a slope steep enough to nearly topple me. Firm ties lashed around my ankles, keeping me bound where I tottered. A hobbled creature, ready for display.
The hands soon guided me a few steps, and then Ollava told me to open my eyes.
When I did, I couldn’t help it. I gaped at myself.
If I had barely recognized my own face under makeup, I had no idea who this woman was, standing in front of me in the mirrors. She was dark, dangerous, tempting, so much like the whisper of Shadow in my mind.
And that was exactly what I was supposed to be. The glittering-sky darkness of my hair curled into the shimmering black swath of fabric that wrapped in a spiral across my chest and around my waist. Only a panel of sheer, nearly invisible material filled the gaps. The disparate pieces joined around my hips—almost baring too much, but not quite—before falling in luxurious dark folds. In between those folds, the material changed from black to near-glowing purple, before fading to blinding white. When I swished my skirts, or even shifted, really, I looked like dancing Shadow. If I actually moved a step, two high slits parted up my thighs, revealing the black straps of heels winding up my calves.
“Great Collapse,” I said. I had to admit I painted quite the picture, never mind that they’d only dressed me up like Shadow in order to parade me around. I was now both the strange, rustic girl and the exotic resource that they were using to save their royal necks.
“Our Solara knows what she’s doing, she does,” Ollava said proudly.
The princess herself came bursting through the doors as if the suite were for her own personal use, not mine. I gaped at her too.
If I was Shadow, Solara was blood. The red of her gown matched her lips and practically dripped down her chest, plunging almost to her navel between her breasts. It was nonexistent in back, only pooling at the waistline to fall in slippery lines to the floor. She was stunning.
I was even more shocked to realize she was staring at me in nearly the same way.
“Hm,” she said, with almost scientific reserve. “You look even better than I predicted.” Then she smiled, her face lighting like a supernova. “Come. The party is waiting for us. And, since neither of us is beholden to anyone this evening…yet…then I will be your date.” She gave a mock, flourishing bow, as if she were a man.
Solara Dracorte looped my arm through hers and dragged me out the door.
The ball was in the Dracorte citadel, but the palace was big enough and the ballroom far enough away that it felt like a walk across a city. Especially in the heels that were destroying my feet. I was dressed to kill, indeed; dressed to kill myself. It was appropriate then, I thought bitterly, that I was dressed like Shadow.
We weren’t alone for long as we took several turbolifts and then wove our way through a hallway that was so grand, the white arches overhead vanished into both darkness and twinkling lights that looked like stars. Several of those lights, through some clever manipulation, rained down like meteors, illuminating the guests’ faces.
Even the hallway was a storm of colors, perfumes, voices, and liquid-smooth or gem-encrusted fabrics brushing against my bare arms. The sensations and the sheer number of people threatened to overwhelm me; I had never in my life even seen so many people, let alone such opulence. It was too much, and I began to panic, my breath hitching. But Solara didn’t give me the chance to stop and pull myself together, threading through the crowd as smoothly and fearlessly as Arjan piloting the skiff through an asteroid field, or Nev wielding a blade, while I lurched and bounced around behind her like a maimed ship getting towed at full power in another’s wake. She was a born socialite, dodging greetings, questions, and even blatant advances from obvious suitors without pause, but always with a clever word or two. She only said I was her “special surprise guest” when anyone asked about me.
“Where is Arjan?” I asked as it occurred to me. I also wondered how the others were doing on the ship, but I was more worried about him. If the rest of the crew had followed my orders, then at the worst they’d be bored. My brother was out here, in all this.
Solara swiped a shimmering glass of something and passed it to me. “You’ll see. Drink to calm your nerves.”