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The Flame and the Arrow

Page 17

by Emigh Cannaday


  Chapter 17

  black and red

  The day before the party, the samodivi and Annika went to Yuri’s room after breakfast to choose their dresses from the numerous armoires.

  “I’m so nervous,” Yuri said of her twin brother as she selected some pretty gowns. “I don’t know what he’s planned for the music or planned to wear, and I’m getting worried. We have to match. Everything has to be perfect! At least he trimmed his hair. It was beginning to look scraggly.”

  “Yeah it was,” Annika agreed, holding a blue dress in front of Runa. “I did that the other night while you guys were at the pub.” Yuri gripped the side of the armoire as though she’d suddenly developed a painful stitch in her side.

  “He let you cut his hair?” she hissed through clenched teeth. Runa and Hilda’s eyes grew wide in shock.

  “He just had a few split ends. It’s not like I chopped it all off or anything,” Annika said with a dismissive shrug.

  “I think it looks nice,” Runa said quickly, grabbing the dress closest to her. “Yuri, what do you think of this dress? Can I wear this one? I think green looks so pretty with my dark eyes, don’t you think?”

  “You’re holding a blue dress, you ding-a-ling,” Hilda cried in exasperation. “Although it does look nice against your complexion. If you’re wearing that one, then I’m going to take the green one since it’s already hemmed.”

  “Either of those is fine with me,” Yuri said, looking distracted. “I think I’m wearing the purple one anyway.” Sariel didn’t seem to be very interested in the girlish pastime of trying on dresses.

  “Why do I have to get frilled up?” she complained, but Yuri wouldn’t hear of it.

  “You always wear the same things. Leather skirt, white shirt, green sash and fur trimmed boots, every single day,” she frowned. “You look fine enough right now, but you will stick out like a sore thumb if you aren’t dressed up like the rest of us tomorrow night. It’s only one evening of your bloody life, Sariel. You don’t even have to get ready until the sun sets. Now here…you should wear something that will compliment your skin and eyes. What about this red one?” Sariel shook her head as Yuri pulled a ruby red gown out of the bureau.

  “That is way too flashy. I don’t want to bring attention to myself, remember?”

  “Wow, that one is amazing!” Annika breathed, looking at the satin gown. “Sariel, if you don’t want it, I’ll wear it. Red is my favorite color.”

  Yuri narrowed her eyes at Annika and shook her head in disapproval.

  “It won’t look good on you. It will compete with your hair,” she declared, and reached into the armoire again. This time she retrieved a black silk dress and gave it to her. “Yes, I think this would be perfect. Wouldn’t it be interesting if you and I matched?” she asked Annika, who was amazed by the meticulous beading and lace. “Between our hair and our dresses, we’ll both be in black and red.” Annika was so preoccupied at examining the dress that she didn’t see the samodivi exchange confused glances behind Yuri’s back.

  “I don’t know, Yuri. What if I spill something on it? It’s really elaborate,” Annika said. But Yuri wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “But you must wear this one! It’s gorgeous. It will contrast perfectly with that bright red hair of yours. You’ll look so pretty,” she said with a smile so fake that Annika could see right through it. She didn’t want to make a fuss though, so she graciously took the dress to the mirror. She had to admit, the black silk did make her hair stand out more than the red ever could.

  “How many dresses do you own, anyway?” Runa asked as she squeezed in front of the mirror beside Annika.

  “I’m not really sure. Isn’t that terrible?” Yuri counted in her head. “I really have no idea. Since I stopped riding around the forest with my lazy brother I have so much more time to enjoy dressing up and looking respectable.”

  “I like how you used to dress just fine,” Sariel said as she chose the purple gown Yuri had originally wanted. “I don’t know why you changed.” Yuri rolled her eyes but said nothing more on the subject of clothes.

  “Now that we know what we’re wearing tomorrow night, we need to see if the florist needs any guidance. If we don’t hurry them along they’ll never be done in time.”

  Yuri’s entourage followed her through the house and they spent the rest of the day draping sheer fabrics over table tops in the ballroom and helping to arrange close to three-hundred red and white roses. While taking orders from Yuri was beginning to test her patience, Annika was surprised how quickly the day flew by. That evening she drew a bath and soaked in the tub. It was quite an ordeal to heat the water enough and pour it into the giant basin, but it was worth it. She found it paradoxical that she was bathing by candlelight, and yet beside the giant tub were all sorts of shampoos and soaps that looked like they belonged in a rustic, yet upscale spa. Everyone’s modern-looking wooden toothbrushes sat by the sink next to a large jar of homemade toothpaste, and a large hutch was at one end, stuffed with fluffy towels and baskets of sponges and washcloths. It was so familiar, and still she knew she was so far away from home. All it took was one look through the steamy windows where the larger moon, Vega, was nearly full beside tiny, steadfast Badra.

  She’d been gone for almost three weeks and was surprised how easily she’d been distracted from her other life. Her life with a family and friends and a band in America, and an uncle in the Balkan Mountains felt so far away, yet so close. She thought about what Finn had said about parallel universes and the blocked paths that led between them, and wondered if she’d ever leave. She’d grown to care about these people, but she still felt like an outsider. She didn’t want to think about living here indefinitely, and when she thought of the pain her mother must be experiencing at that same moment, she broke down and sobbed, rinsing away her tears with the bath water only to find more had taken their place. She tossed and turned in bed for a long time that night, feeling pulled in two different directions by a heart in love with two different worlds.

 

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