Hearing the click of a door, Cinder pivoted around to see Scarlet emerging from the bathroom, wearing the white dress. “I need someone to zip it up,” she said, pulling her curls over one shoulder and turning her back to Cinder.
“Er, we should let Winter do it,” said Cinder, coaxing her back into the bedroom. “You know my tendency to leave grease stains on every pretty thing I touch.”
The other girls were anxiously anticipating Scarlet’s return, and her appearance brought on another chorus of swoons. Winter pulled up the zipper and Scarlet gave a half turn, letting the full skirt swish around her legs. It was the girliest thing Cinder had ever seen her do, and even Scarlet was beaming when she caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror in the corner.
“Oh, Scarlet,” Cress sighed. “You’re getting married. It’s all like a dream.”
“I guess it sort of is,” Scarlet agreed, her cheeks flushing pink around her freckles.
Iko petted the edge of the bed. “Sit down and let me do your hair.”
“My hair? What are you going to do to my hair?”
“I’m not sure yet, which is why I need to practice for the big day.”
With Scarlet’s back turned, Iko winked at Cinder, who alone knew that Iko had been researching popular wedding styles and practicing on the palace maids for weeks.
Scarlet groaned. “How long will this take?”
“Why, you have somewhere else to be? Stop whining and sit down. Cinder, you have those hair accoutrements I told you to hold on to?”
“Oh. Right.” Cinder had forgotten all about the brush, clips, bobby pins, and curling iron that Iko had ordered her to stash in the hollow compartment of her cyborg leg before they’d left Luna. She sat down and pulled them out.
Scarlet’s jaw dropped. “You’re frighteningly prepared,” she said, pushing a fingertip through the pile of bobby pins that Cinder set on the bed. “What if I told you I just wanted to wear my hair down, like normal?”
“Then I would use my powers of persuasion to change your mind.” Iko grabbed the sides of Scarlet’s head and forced her to face forward. “Now hold still.”
The others sat down to watch Iko work. She’d just finished teasing the hair at the crown of Scarlet’s head when Scarlet asked, “Why is Wolf’s tuxedo missing?”
Cinder traded looks with the others. “It … um … we were…”
“Thorne came up and took it,” interrupted Cress. “When you were changing.”
Scarlet frowned. “What for?”
“Because … he wanted to…” Cress swallowed. “Um … compare it to his own tuxedo. To make sure they were, uh … matching?” Her gaze darted to one side as she realized how implausible that sounded, even for Thorne.
“She means,” interrupted Cinder, “that Thorne was concerned that he and Wolf might have purchased the same tuxedo, which I guess is considered a big faux pas. You know how Thorne is about that sort of thing. Can’t be seen in the same tux as the groom! How embarrassing, right?”
Scarlet opened her mouth to speak again, her brow furrowed, when Iko asked, “What shoes are you going to wear?”
Scarlet moved to turn her head, but Iko grabbed it and faced her forward again. She huffed. “I don’t know. Winter said she had a pair I could borrow.”
Winter snapped and hopped to her feet. “Right. They’re still packed away. I’ll go get them.” She darted across the hall into the guest room, rustled around for a moment, then returned carrying a pair of red heels, almost the exact color of the dress’s sash.
The appearance of the perfect shoes were met with another round of ahhs, and this time Cinder couldn’t contain a chuckle and shake of her head. Winter sat cross-legged in front of Scarlet and pushed the shoes onto her feet. “How do they feel?”
“Not bad.” Scarlet turned her ankle back and forth. “If I can keep from tripping and breaking an ankle in them, this wedding will be a smashing success.”
Iko snorted. “They’re barely a two-inch heel.”
“Which is two inches taller than I’m used to.”
A crash from downstairs made them all jump.
“What was—” Scarlet started to push herself off the bed, but Iko held firm to a lock of hair and tugged her back down.
“What part of ‘hold still’ don’t you understand?” she scolded.
“I’ll go see what it was,” said Cinder, slipping into the hallway and darting down the stairs. Jacin was sitting at the bottom, hunched over something and working intently.
“That was Thorne,” he said, without glancing up at her.
“What did he do? Knock down a wall?” Cinder stepped past Jacin, but hesitated when she saw the vase of white flowers on the floor at his feet. He was meticulously pulling the flowers out of the water, one by one, and wiring their stems together. His brow was knotted in concentration.
“Are you making a bouquet?” she asked incredulously.