Chapter 17 The gorgeous Lady Lira

Chapter 17 The gorgeous Lady Lira
NYX

“Are you out of your mind?” I hiss, staggering away like Lady Sable’s skin is made of poison.

Her countenance remains bright, eyes wide and expectant even though a frown sat unfaltering on my face.

With the mean scowl intact, I go on, “I’m a slave, not some noble…” I bite back the word brat. “…some noble woman opportuned to play dress-up. One wrong step and I’m back in the Death Ring or worse.”

Lady Sable’s grin doesn’t falter. If anything, it widens, bright as the sun’s touch on the flowing fountain behind her. 

“Exactly! You’re interesting. Most people here are either terrified or boring. You dropped a snake in Luna's bath and lived. I need that daring energy in my life.” 

Wow, I think to myself. She is crazy. They all are. 

“I can’t, my lady. If you’ll excuse me.”

Blocking my path, she clasps her hands in a prayer as though the moon goddess is somewhere in hiding. “Come on, Nyx. One afternoon. Just think of it. Market cakes. Pretty fabrics. The people. No one will ever know.”

None of those appeals to me. At all. Offering the Alpha’s head will be more persuasive, but she might have ridden his cock minutes before she summoned me—so I guess not.

Her round eyes are too honest, her smile too easy. People like this don’t just appear out of nowhere offering slaves field trips. 

My mind reels. 

Handler? Spy? The one who left the vial? If she’s part of the plot, I need to know.

I need to play along. I know I am being watched, but by who? My mind tells me Lady Sable is the way to find out. 

“Fine,” I concede, folding my arms. “But if I end up in chains again, I’m haunting you, my Lady.”

She squeals and grabs my hand, tugging me through the manor like we’re old friends. Her fingers are warm, calloused in places as though she’s held reins or swords more than teacups.

“Sable is just fine. ‘My lady’ when we have company. Who knows, we can even be friends.”

My mouth opens and closes just as easily. “Yes, my— Sable.”

It doesn’t quite roll off my tongue. This sudden company might cost me my head and that thought makes my heart race.

I am led to the quarters on the third floor, tucked behind the Alpha’s chambers, but closer to that cursed throne room.

Simply brushing by the doors does something terrible to my system. Zephyr. Blood. Wine. My lungs close.

I can’t forget him. His face. 

Huge wooden doors swing open to a riot of color.  Emerald drapes, sapphire cushions, a vanity drowning in perfume bottles and ribbons. 

Sunlight pours through stained-glass windows, painting the floor in shifting jewels of red and gold. She gayly ushers me in.

I stop dead, facing her. “You live here? In the Alpha’s manor?”

Sable kicks off her boots, unties her garment, and flops onto a velvet chaise, patting the spot beside her.  

“Kane’s my oldest friend,” she says. “My father served Late Alpha Theo as his Gamma. They were strong allies before… well, before everything. My father’s still trying to marry me off to Kane’s uncle for ‘strategic reasons.’” 

She rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t fall out. “As if I’d let anyone pick my mate.”

I perch on the edge of the chaise, still wary. It all feels like a trap. “Alpha Kane has an uncle? And friends? I thought he was hatched from a demon egg.”

She laughs. “Oh! He’d love that rumor. Honestly, he’s not the most likable. Grumpy. Picky as hell. Arrogant, but when you get to know him, he’s not that bad.”

Her eyes light up even when she speaks ill of him. I don’t know what to make of that. 

Because I know exactly what Alpha Kane is. A heartless monster. 

A bastard who will be dead in a few full moons.

Her head tilts to my face. “I’m shocked you served breakfast this morning. He must be warming up to you.”

I snort so loud a bird perched outside the window startles. “He’d sooner warm up to a rabid badger.”

“Well. As I said, he is not likable.”

“I am surprised someone as bright as you is friends with a man so dark and brooding.”

“Kane is my best friend in the world.” She lets out an exasperated sigh. “I knew who he used to be. I still know who he is, despite all he’s been through.”

All he’s been through? What? A thousand dead bodies? 

Sable hops up, clapping to bury the subject. “Makeover time!”

I groan. 

She drags me to the vanity, a gilded monstrosity with mirrors on three sides. I catch my reflection and wince. 

My locs are wild and the hives are still present, although fading, even my eyes look too big for a face so thin and cheeks so hollow.

Sable doesn’t see any of that. Or she ignores it. Skipping across the room, she pulls open a wardrobe from which she holds up a sapphire gown with silver embroidery that looks like liquid starlight. 

Too elegant. Costs more than my life. My teeth grit.

“Too much?” Before I can answer, she swaps it for a sleeveless scarlet number with a slit up the thigh. “Perfect. Dangerous but approachable. What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful. Too beautiful.”

She tosses it to me. I am almost scared to touch the dress. “I—I can’t wear this, my lady.”

“Sable. And do you prefer the first?”

“No. No. I just… have never worn anything that didn’t come from the rag bin.”

“Then today’s your coronation.” She spins me to face the mirror, her fingers instantly burying in my hair. “Hold still.”

I snicker. “There’s probably a mouse in there.”

“I am good at smashing mice,” she jokes. 

Sable braids my locs and ties them into an elegant bun, adding some silver pins. After that, she smears kohl to smoke out my eyes, rose on my cheeks, and a daring red on my lips. 

When all is done, I barely recognize the girl staring back. I look tame.

The dress hugs my waist, flows over my hips, and that daring slit flashes my leg with every step. 

Her borrowed jewels hang over my collarbones. Gods. I look like royalty. My lips stretch into a little smile. 

Although I feel like a man in a dress, I could mingle with the elites undetected. 

Sable whistles. “Goddess, Nyx. You’re a weapon.”

I wince. “Is it normally this itchy?”

“Trust me, yes. But better than corsets. Those strangle you with your own breasts.”

I laugh. Sable stands behind me in the mirror. “I feel like a lie.”

“You feel like power,” she corrects. “Now, rules.” She counts on her fingers. “One, your name is Lira, a merchant’s daughter from the south. Two, if anyone asks, we’re cousins. Three, no bowing, no ‘my lady,’ no slave talk. Four, have fun, or I’ll be offended.”

I curtsey. “Your wish is my command, my lady.”

She hands me a cloak the color of midnight. “And the disguise is complete. Let’s go.”

We slip through a side gate and Sable goes on chattering about honey cakes and a stall that sells enchanted hairpins. 

My heart hammers so loud I’m sure the guards hear it as we approach three of them standing guard right outside the gate. 

Their eyes are locked onto us in deep, horrifying scrutiny.

I might just die today. We slip past but their gazes burn at the back of my neck.

My grip tightens around the hem of my dress. Panic shoots through me, my legs going limp as I walk, unsteady in these high boots. 

We are just a few steps past the gate.

“Relax,” Sable comforts, sensing my panic. “Just a few more—”

She doesn’t get to finish when the heftiest of the guards bellows from behind us. “Stop right there.”

“You,” he says to me. “Name.”