by Lisa Daniels
Like any of them wouldn’t jump at the chance to take down someone who hurt them, she thought sourly, trying to bolster herself. Her mood bottomed out further when she saw the silver and blue dress hanging just in front of her closet.
Shit. She was supposed to wear that to the winter ball today. They didn’t want her turning up in a top and pants, or looking like she spent entirely too much time on the decks of ships.
That stupid prince, though. Insisting on coming to the ball with her as if they were a couple. Being entirely too interested in her. She honestly didn’t understand why he wasn’t running away screaming. She’d tortured a man in front of him. She’d admitted to killing three people, to being dangerous. Yet no hisses of monster came from his lips. Instead, those annoying caramel-colored eyes of his watched her, sparkling if they ever made contact with hers, along with that smile he was now reserving exclusively for her. Biting remarks didn’t deter him.
He wasn’t acting like he was supposed to. And it confused the storms out of her. There would be nothing but trouble with a prince flirting with someone like her.
He probably flirts with everyone.
Sighing, she edged herself out of bed, mind whirling, sometimes bouncing to Kerrick and how annoying he was. Sometimes to Perran, and his burning concern that they were too late, and that the Conclave of Zamorka had already buried their claws too deep into Azarus for them to stop the avalanche. The Conclave’s reach extended into the tiny islets, their poisons spreading, and what little cure that remained to combat the Creeping Rot needed to be saved for the Six Islands.
Luan bit her lip. It always came back to that disease, in the end. The same disease that took Serpent Isle, and now killed magic users who were too slow to realize what was happening to them. As long as the Creeping Rot existed, they would always be under threat.
And if the Creeping Rot had penetrated the heart of the kingdom, seeping its way into the walls of the palace… then they were too late for that, too.
If Azarus fell, it would create panic. Regicide, with the royal line being so thin now, spread between the king, his cousins, and Kerrick… they likely had an existential crisis boiling under their feet.
Yet they still wanted her to wear a storming dress.
The things she did for people.
* * *
Luan nervously slid into Perran’s estate, fur robes wrapped tight around her to prevent anyone from looking at the shimmering dress she wore. It exposed the tattoos on her legs and arms, and some of the ones on her back, too. All were nothing more than swirling wind and fire patterns in intricate black ink, with the largest swirls covering her shoulder blades, and wisps of wind tracks on either side of her spine.
All a result of probably the most excruciating yet exquisite sixteen hours of tattoo time upon her body, two days in a row. Yet another black mark against her family, as tattoos were something that savages did to their bodies, and no self-respecting woman would do the same. Well, Luan saw it as a way to mark herself. She liked the tapping of the needle, and the way the patterns bloomed over her skin.
She didn’t much like the dress, or how exposed she felt in it. At least she wore low-heeled shoes to go with them, because she didn’t think herself capable of surviving staggering around in four-inch heels.
Perran and Kerrick were wearing suits. The plan was for Perran to take on his dragon form, and have Luan and Kerrick sit on his back, along with Lady Vash and Natalie, who would trail behind in their dragon forms. Just to add some more legitimacy that they were attending the winter ball.
“Going to show us the dress?” Kerrick asked, eyes glinting in clear interest. Luan scowled at him. It was completely his fault, after all, that she was wearing this thing. Okay, maybe not entirely his fault, but she felt justified in pinning all her irritation upon him.
“You can wait a little longer,” she said, with slightly more venom in her voice than intended. Perran braced a hand on Kerrick’s shoulder.
“Don’t push it. It’s a miracle as it is that she’s even consented to wearing one.”
“Don’t like playing dress-up like the other women?” Kerrick asked, disregarding Perran’s sage advice.
“I have my uniform,” she replied stiffly. “And when you’re home alone, you don’t exactly want to wear something you can barely sit down in.”
“Barely sit down in? Must be some outfit you got.” The prince’s eyes widened in an entirely too innocent gesture.
“Are you sure I can’t kill this one?” Luan muttered to Perran, who simply shook his head, smiling faintly.
“You need to protect him, Luan. He might be a dragon, but he’s not you.”
The flattery buoyed her up slightly. She pretended like it didn’t affect her, but her mood lightened, and she broke up her near-permanent scowl, sparing both dragon shifters from further resentment.
The two men continued talking to one another, and Luan ran through all the possibilities in her head about what might unfold tonight at the winter ball. Occasionally, her attention drifted back to Kerrick. His black hair really was floppy, framing his face in a mass of unkempt curls. Did he ever brush it? The stubble on that rounded chin and cheek darkened otherwise smooth, pale features, and she remembered him with that wild, tangled growth, hiding everything about that face.
For someone starved by imprisonment, he did look quite toned. Nothing compared to Perran and the others in the task force, but enough for her to notice.
Not that she was noticing. It was all hidden underneath that stupid, dark gray, three-piece suit of his anyway, and that purple bow tie. Who even wore bow ties nowadays? Perran didn’t look much better. All stiff in a pressed, iron-black tuxedo, with a long, yellow tie covering the white buttons. He looked out of place in it, instead of lounging in his officer’s uniform. Just as awkward as she felt, and it helped her feel a little more reassured that her boss was being put in a compromising position as well.
Lady Vash and Natalie arrived less than an hour later, far more willing to show off their dresses. Vash had long, flowing, black hair, a vision like her brother, Meridas. Natalie, in the meanwhile, had cut her hair a little shorter and seemed rapier-thin in comparison to Vash. Both women held that poise Luan had learned to associate with people from higher society, moving with an easy grace and a confident demeanor.
Sometimes she felt a little envious of their grace. She didn’t quite have that same attitude. Usually it didn’t bother her, but sometimes…
“Come on,” Vash said, once they’d dragged Luan out of sight of the men and shoved her into a bathroom. “We want to see for ourselves.”
“You’ve already seen,” Luan said, but Natalie and Vash didn’t really take that as an answer. Eventually, with an over-dramatic sigh, Luan peeled the robes off so Vash and Natalie could once more admire their choice.
Blue and silver frills hemmed the bottom of the dress, which was tight enough to accentuate all her features. The tattoos were starkly exposed, and somehow seemed to match the gentle, mixing colors of the dress. The only thing Luan didn’t have was makeup, and both dragon women seemed determined to correct that error.
“We’ve got to do something about that hair of yours as well,” Natalie said, running her fingers through Luan’s graceless hair. “You don’t brush much.”
“I brush every day,” Luan said, slightly offended. “With an old brush,” she amended, when both women stared at her. “For, like, ten seconds.”
“At least you wear something on your lips,” Vash, the taller of the three, said, one finger lightly brushing at the coating on Luan’s bottom lip.
“It’s a lifesaver. Chapped lips in high winds and cold weather is the worst. Do I really have to wear makeup?”
“Yes,” Vash said. Both women emptied their bags of a wild, scary assortment of female products, including perfume bottles, nail polish, and things that Luan didn’t want anywhere near her eyes. She had to keep swallowing the urge to shove them both away with her magic, reminding herself that
this was part of her duties. A disguise to get into the winter ball.
That was all this was. Still, she flinched multiple times when Natalie stabbed at her eye with one of those black-coated mini brushes, and coughed when Vash dabbed a fine powder onto her cheeks. When Natalie had finished with Luan’s eyes, she began furiously attacking Luan’s hair with a wet comb, and Luan decided that this pain was far worse than any needle approaching her skin.
“I don’t get why you two feel like you need to go through all this effort with me,” Luan complained, though she took discreet glances at herself in the mirror, starting to notice a real transformation from her pale, unadorned features.
“It’s very rare we get pretty women who have no idea how to hot themselves up,” Natalie replied, as the comb dislodged a snarl of hair. “So, too much of an opportunity for us to ignore. Plus, we know all about you, and your reputation from the academy.”
“Do you, now?” Luan said in a colorless voice, before wincing at another knot of hair scraping from her scalp.
“What she said,” Vash agreed. “Weren’t you almost expelled twice? What for?”
Luan’s lips knotted up slightly, unsure of their intentions. Neither seemed to bear any dislike towards her, but she wasn’t exactly a popular girl around these parts. She did what she had to do—and sometimes a little more as well. “I put one student in the med bay,” Luan said eventually. “For a good reason, in my opinion. Caught her dangling a servant off the edge of Azarus Isle because the servant didn’t give her the right kind of cupcake.”
“Oh...” Vash nodded. “Becky, right? Becky’s such a bitch.”
“That’s the one,” Luan said. “But she’s from a very good family, so people were more inclined to believe her than me and a servant. Lucky our teachers were a little more observant and made sure we didn’t have any lessons together. Second time...” Her fingers drummed the white porcelain sink bowl. “Less dramatic. Failing my grades because I couldn’t jump the way my teachers wanted, and I stopped trying at one point, because I knew I couldn’t do it. They train all the air witches the same way. I was scooped into the police academy instead, for witches more inclined to my sort of talent.”
“I thought all you air witches were the same, to be honest,” Natalie admitted, now fluffing up Luan’s hair, apparently satisfied with the result.
“No one person is the same. Even with magic,” Luan replied. “Everyone’s better at some things compared to others.”
“True,” Natalie agreed. The women fell silent for a moment as they made the finishing touches to Luan’s makeover. Luan examined the results, trying very hard not to be pleased by the result.
She wasn’t supposed to like this. It was something all the uppity people did. Yet… she looked practically nothing like her original self. The red lipstick was striking against her pale skin. Her hair appeared delicate and tufted, rather than a hacked-up mess. Her eyes threatened to jump out of her face with how magnified they were as a result of the mascara and shadow.
“We could do better with more time,” Vash said, packing away her goods, “but this will do.” Luan examined her dark pink nail polish, giving it a cautious sniff.
“Now, let’s show you to the men,” Natalie said, but Luan used her magic to waft her fur robes around her before she was exposed prematurely.
“Spoilsport,” Vash said.
They ate some pastry snacks before embarking towards the winter ball in the evening. Kerrick appeared a nervous wreck, though he’d kept his confidence until the moment he stepped outside, wearing a masquerade mask to conceal him from being instantly recognized upon the street. Perran grew into a sinuous gray dragon, followed suit by Lady Vash and Natalie, who were of similar size, though they had different creamy splashes upon their bodies. Luan quietly whistled at the sight and wondered briefly what Kerrick would appear like as a dragon. If he was smaller, bigger—if she’d be able to recognize him at a distance.
The three dragons crowded the street and awkwardly jumbled into line, as passersby gaped at them and swerved around. A few police patrols stared at them for longer than was comfortable, but ultimately didn’t seem to think too much of it. Luan scrambled on Perran’s back, and Kerrick did so as well. Being taller, he nestled behind her at the crook of Perran’s long, snake-like neck, and Luan instantly wished that he’d crawled onto one of the women instead, because him pressing into her had to be one of the most awkward and overly intimate feelings she’d had to endure. Especially knowing that under her robes was a dress a little too flimsy for normal tastes.
“Is this okay?” Kerrick muttered, even as Perran tilted an orb-like eye towards them, making sure they were settled.
“It’s fine,” Luan bit out between clenched teeth, though her stiffened body language spoke otherwise.
We’re supposed to be going together. I’m supposed to protect him. This is fine.
Gradually, as Perran began to plod through the street, claws clacking on the cobblestones, she realized that Kerrick was just as tense as she was, and he kept glancing around as if expecting to be recognized at any second.
“What are you so nervous about?” she breathed. “This was your idea.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t be nervous about it,” Kerrick snapped. Perran took a huge step which caused Kerrick to lurch forward with Luan. He steadied himself on her shoulders. “I’m just not looking forward to the possibility of finding out my father was the one behind my, ah, recent imprisonment.”
Luan, tense from Kerrick’s touch, took some deep breaths, trying to focus instead on how warm the hands were, rather than how she wanted to blast Kerrick away from her back at terminal velocity. The prince would probably survive it, but gambling with his life wouldn’t exactly be the most intelligent choice she’d ever made.
After a few moments wobbling on Perran’s back, she felt the prince’s breath hot just behind her ear and hissed quietly at the bone-deep shiver it elicited from her. “You can relax, you know,” the prince said. “I’m not going to try anything. We’re all in this together.”
“You don’t have to press up so close to me,” she said in a harsh whisper, shifting her gaze slightly so that she saw him at the edge of her peripheral vision.
“It’s cold,” Kerrick said. “You’re not cold. I’m just leeching your warmth.”
“Nice excuse to feel me up,” she said, though admittedly, he hadn’t tried anything of the sort yet. Still, her cheeks flushed slightly, unused to such contact. People didn’t make a habit of touching Luan in any way, not even for a hug. A handshake was about the most intimate she’d managed.
“Not every interaction has to mean something bad,” Kerrick continued, his breaths trickling heat down her spine. “How come you’re so stiff, anyway? Got some dark, tragic past? You know about mine, I’m sure.”
Everyone did. The prince losing his mother, his father tumbling into grief, him getting neglected, until eventually he turned up at brothels like they were going out of fashion, and attended parties, wasting away family reputation for a family he no longer connected with. The only thing tragic about it to Luan was that maybe that family could have stayed together if the mother had made it.
“I’m not telling you,” Luan said, eyes fixed on the street, calculating they were about ten minutes away from the winter ball. The dragons could have flown, but it was better to be slow and steady, so that no one attempted to approach them or flag them down, and everyone assumed they were heading to the winter ball.
Every eye upon them was a potential enemy, and Luan wanted to keep her focus absolute, to deal with the enemy as they came. There were a lot of police on the streets. Far more than usual in the last year or so, and tension underlined people’s faces in the bright orblights lining the lanes. Some shops were still open, with sellers attempting to beckon potential customers inside.
“I used to feel safe walking these streets,” Kerrick said, hands gripping tight on Luan again. “Amazing what a few months being locked up does
to you, isn’t it?”
“I’m sorry it took so long for help to come,” Luan replied, sincere. Whatever she thought about the prince, he didn’t deserve to suffer like that. She gritted her teeth against the strange, fluttering sensation in her stomach, coursing through her veins.
She had to be careful not to get too comfortable with the prince. He’d spell out trouble for her. Someone like him didn’t have a great habit of sticking around, and someone like Luan didn’t have a great habit of sticking with anyone, either.
Not exactly a sky-blessed match.
“At least it came in the end. So, thank you for that. Truly.”
She could have sworn she felt the press of his nose against her scalp, but when she turned to look at him better, his head seemed to be at a respectful distance away. He regarded her with those caramel eyes, darker in the dim light of the streets.
“A warning to you, prince. If you try to flirt with me, you’ll find me to be a bad choice of flirt.”
“Oh, I don’t think you’re a bad choice at all,” he said. “But don’t worry. Nothing will happen that you don’t want.” He grinned at her, and she glared at him in return.
“I’m starting to wonder why you’ve been with so many women, Kerrick. Because you don’t have much of a technique for charming them, do you?”
“The dazzling smiles and hints of interest don’t do it for you?”
“Not really,” she said, though she’d be lying if she said it didn’t affect her at all. She just wasn’t exactly used to people flirting with her. Especially someone of his status, with someone who worked the law for him.
“I suppose I’ll have to look for other ways of charming you, instead. Tell you what—we survive the ball, and I get reinstated instead of locked up or killed—maybe we can go on a date?”
“Seriously?” Luan’s jaw dropped. “Are you insane? Did you hit your head on something before we left?”
“No more than the sight of a pretty woman usually hits it,” he replied, and she groaned softly.