Umbra grabs my hand, but I pull it back. I don’t need pity. I turned out all right, regardless of where they created me.
She places her hand back on the table with a tight smile. But the guys noticed. I didn’t come to lunch to get grilled on my background.
A loud boom comes from the doorway, and Uriel enters like he’s the king and all this belongs to him. I can’t help but grin at his stupid outfit. I guess he’s missed court too much.
“Anima,” he says, coming to stand over the table. His jeweled hand goes to my shoulder, and I let out the laugh that was caught in my throat. I’m laughing so hard tears stream down my face, and I can’t help the snort that comes out of my mouth.
“What is so funny?” Umbra asks.
Wiping my face, I gaze at the angel. I almost lose it again, but I try to keep myself in check. “What in the fuck are you wearing?”
He scowls as he observes his clothes. “There is nothing wrong with this outfit.”
“You have a feathered cape over your enormous, feathered wings. And let’s not get started on the jewels. I didn’t even know you could make a broach that large. It must be so damn heavy.”
Giggling fits take over again, and I flick a feather with my finger. Narrowing his eyes, he gives me a playful push, trying to sit next to me.
“You’re going to get feathers in my fruit!”
“Serves you right, making fun of me. I have you know that this outfit is very in right now. It’s all the rage.”
“The things coming out of your mouth are not selling your case.” Turning to Umbra, I say, “And if you think for a second you’re going to throw feathers on me, I’m not going to this ball.”
“That’s a men’s look.” She rolls her eyes like I’m the dumbest thing in the room.
“I’m sure Anima is going to love the newest court fashions for a woman,” Donaas says, trying to shovel food in his mouth so he doesn’t have to look at me.
Fear comes over me. Suddenly, I’m yearning for my jeans and a tank top.
I was right to be afraid. These dresses are hideous. I reject one after another. All are too big, too stuffy, and have too many ruffles. I feel like we’re in the Elizabethan period.
“Don’t you have something slender? I can’t move in a poufy dress. There is no way I will be vulnerable with our enemies this close.”
“I’m not sure what you mean by slender. These dresses are the best I have,” the seamstress, Nava, says, her eyes darting back and forth between Umbra and me.
“She’s not used to the styles of court. Maybe we can meet her halfway? Anima, which dress do you like the best?”
I walk over to the rack again to flick through them. There is a ruby-colored dress that reminds me of Torque’s eyes. It has a lower neckline, and the skirt has only a half train. The front of the dress is open.
“Could you turn this into pants? Keep the skirt over my hips and back, but have the pants shown off in the front. If you can make the train detachable, that would be better. Also, the sleeves. Can you make them short? I’d like to have access to a dagger.”
The seamstress smiles. “I can make those arrangements. It will cut it close, but I’m sure my girls will work their magic.”
I slip the dress on over my head, and she takes measurements with chalk and pins. Her hands move swiftly, pinching the fabric and tucking it there. When she’s done, I can almost see how the design will look.
When she’s finished, I leave the two women to go in search of Torque. This morning’s conversation is weighing on me. I want us to be together, but how can I trust him after all the secrets he’s kept? He says one thing, but I don’t find out the truth of his words until much later.
Cheers and celebrating come from a small room down the hall from Umbra’s suite. I don’t know where I am in the castle, so I follow the sounds, hoping I’m not interrupting whatever is going on.
“She’s everything I’ve ever wanted…” Torque’s voice floats out into the hall. I stop my movements to listen in. Part of me feels guilty, but my assassin instincts say to stay and eavesdrop.
“Yes, but she’s a witch. One who has taken out a lot of Bloods and Dark. How they’re even letting her walk around the palace is beyond me. She should be a prisoner,” Mammon says.
That fucking demon. He’s so lucky I’m sneaking around, or I’d punch him in the throat.
“When you know no other way, can you truly be blamed? Rahna all but brainwashed her into thinking her own kind is the enemy. And we allowed it to happen. The treaty we signed made us look like the monsters, not the other way around.”
“It was the price we paid. Not one of us has regretted it. If we didn’t leave, clans of Bloods would have died off. There would have been none of us left.”
“The past is the past. With her, we can take back what was ours. Being king has put some restrictions on what I can do, but she can do the rest. If our kingdoms unite, it will spread peace across the realm. We will finally be able to let our people prosper.”
Mammon doesn’t respond, but the fury in me grows. Is all this mating a way to get the Dark and Bloods together? What other ways is he planning on using this mating for his convenience?
I stalk away before I have to hear anything else. I was stupid to think this would work. Everyone has their own objective here, and I need to focus on my own. No more hot but scary Blood demons.
Eleven
