by Amelia Oz
"I know who you are. You allowed a monster to kidnap my friend and murder my cousin," I hissed. Tess gasped and Clara's smile faltered. The men's conversation fell silent, and Alaric appeared at my side. Clara studied me with narrowed eyes before flicking her gaze towards the men.
"Oh, relax. I'm not going to turn her into a toad," she said, her upper lip curling. I raised an eyebrow but refrained from making a snarky comment. Something told me she wasn't Queen of a heck load of magical beings because she was pretty.
"You’re right, Stella," Clara said, crossing her arms. "I failed Amanda and you. I thought I’d contained the sorcerer but he escaped. I'm doing everything I can to rectify my underestimation of his benefactor and bring them both to justice.
“I'm also very sorry for the loss of your cousin, Stella. He seemed a sweet boy and I'm sure many people will miss him."
Her apology reeked of sincerity, damn it. Alaric avoided my eyes to stare at my throat. Throwing a fit was not going to make any difference. In fact, it might make things more uncomfortable for Alaric to have important people argue with a guest in his home. I nodded. The tension eased and Tess breathed an audible sigh of relief. Murad and Alaric drifted back to the living room.
“How’s Amanda?” I asked.
"Amanda is quite sad actually, but that's to be expected with losing a close friend and then another disappearing. She hasn't touched her Pagatio since that day, despite our assurances that it’s been cleansed. You'll see her soon at the Grand Council." It stung that my staying away had left Amanda to cope alone. I missed her but couldn’t bear to talk about Silvan right now with anyone. Even her.
Tess tapped Clara on the arm. "Speaking of the Grand Council, before your betrothal can become official, you'll need to be a member of the Primati. Joining a witch clan will expedite your claim and give you credibility. Don’t worry about the vote—it’s really just ceremony." Wait. There was a vote?
"The dressmakers will be here in an hour, Stella," Tess said with restrained excitement.
"Dressmakers?" I asked, confused.
"She means stylists," Clara responded. "The stylists are coming by with selections from a few upcoming fashion collections."
" You said that you don't like to shop, so I thought you might prefer this instead. They’ll come here so there's no need to worry about claustrophobic dressing rooms and prying eyes." It took all my will power not to mirror Clara's rolled eyes.
"Don't forget to tell her about the hairdresser and makeup artist from Henri Bendel," Clara added, eyeing my greasy, messy bun. My "look?" What was wrong with the one I had? Nothing, that's what. Trying too hard was worse than not trying at all.
I couldn't fault Clara's envious looks, but I eyed her unusual combination of white crop top, green and white striped cocktail skirt, and pink shoes. She noted my once-over with a mischievous grin and twirled.
I crossed my arms. "No."
"We've gone to considerable trouble to make these arrangements. Just pretend you're playing a part. If not for yourself than for Murad," Tess pleaded.
"Considerable trouble? You made one phone call, sister. I was there. But you are right about Stella dressing for the part. Murad can't have his future queen in rags, can he?" Clara’s thoughtful gaze moved to where the men were still engaged in a deep conversation. Did she just call my clothing rags?
"Stella, maybe you want to go take a shower before they arrive?" suggested Tess.
" I was already planning to take a shower…anyway." Tess nodded while Clara hid a smirk. I stomped away, veering my path through Alaric's bedroom and into his bathroom. You know what? They could just wait. I’d take a bath instead. Perhaps the unwanted visitors would take a big hint and leave. I didn’t need a stylist or anyone else to judge me right now.
A knock sometime later startled me from a drowsy soak, the bubbles long gone. Alaric? Instantly awake, I prepared to give him heck. How dare he throw me to the wolves like this? I climbed out of the tub, wrapped myself in a towel and flung open the door.
Clara and Tess stood in the doorway. Tess stared at my dry hair with a frown, covering the rounding of her mouth with a slim hand. Clara's expression morphed from surprised to gritty determination. I took several steps back, not trusting that look. I'd seen it on Midora's face several times, just before her sisters sprung an ambush.
"Stop, Clara!" Tess cried as Clara pushed past me to enter the bathroom. "Give her a choice."
My eyebrows shot up. A choice about what?
"Fine. She makes us wait an hour for her, which is downright rude, but you want to give her a choice." Clara snapped. She leaned against a sink and crossed her slender arms. Tess followed her into the room with an apologetic wringing of hands.
"Stella. I know you better than you realize. I know you want to tell us to fuck off—yet trust me when I say that you will want to feel your most confident before the Grand Council," Clara said in a clipped voice.
"Especially since Daria Demir, the Earth Witch Queen will be there and she’s both paranoid and ambitious," added Tess. Clara nodded tersely.
"Daria is bat-shit loco and just coming out of the ground as punishment for a serious crime. Stay out of her way. We need her there to have a formal quorum of votes so she can’t challenge you in the future. In exchange for her cooperation, Murad agreed to allow her to circumvent her sentence," Clara continued, her voice thick with disapproval.
"Murad is doing this for you, but she won't be grateful. Don’t engage her in any way. She has an obsession with power and you’ll be seen as a threat. Just stay clear of her," Tess warned.
If they knew me at all then they would know they just placed this Daria on my top three most fascinating people list. I couldn't wait to meet her. But not under these circumstances.
"Listen—I know that Amanda mentioned something about my jumping off that cliff, but I have no power. Please don’t get your hopes up. If I’m tested or whatever, I’ll fail. So, you can just send my regrets to this Council or cancel it right now. If it means not marrying Murad, that’s okay by me. I don’t know why you think a curse can be broken after so many years, anyway.” Clara shook her head as if she’d never seen a denser human being.
"The Grand Council was scheduled long before you, Stella. We call one every Autumn Equinox. We're just adding your membership into the Primati to the agenda," Tess said before picking up a small white cake of soap from the sink. She walked over to the soaking tub.
"As far as the curse is concerned—we think that it may have grown weaker with time. There’s value in making an effort to break it. Watch, Stella. Do you see how calm the surface is?" Tess dropped the bar of soap into the center of the still filled tub, creating waves in the blue and green sparkling water. I may have gone overboard with the bath bombs Grayson had placed under the sink.
"Enchantments are like these ripples. It’s about intention. See how the ripples are stronger from the epicenter and then get much smaller, fading as they expand? I think Lila's curse is like this. The original enchantment was devastating, but subsequent generations have served to weaken it. This is why I think your mother demonstrated some gifts. This is what led to her being discovered.
"There were rumors about a human girl with power living in San Francisco. She died before we could meet her and determine the truth of any power she held. There’s no reason not to believe you will have even greater strength; the enchantment's original intention came into being so long ago it might not even affect you."
"As long as you take precautions. Avoiding romance until you pass twenty-one is a good start. Marrying Murad is insurance. He’s immortal, and the marriage will be in name only but technically, a marriage makes him your mate," added Clara.
"What if I'd been born gay?" I asked, curious. Tess tilted her head while Clara tapped her chin in thought.
"That wouldn't really solve the problem," Clara said slowly. "You would still fall in love with a mortal, and as a woman, you’re still presumably
able to give birth as there are several options in the modern world. The enchantment would likely lead you to want to try to procreate," she said. I shrugged. It wasn't like I could change who I was anyway.
I sat on the edge of the tub, considering.
"What choices were you talking about when you first came in?"
Clara positioned herself in front of the door and jutted her delicate chin. "We can take you into that shower and scrub you within an inch of your life—or I can perform the same with a magick spell. What's it to be?" Clara asked.
I scowled. I didn’t want anyone using magick on me ever again. But the thought of being manhandled naked seemed an even worse choice. Something about the gleam in Clara's eyes told me she'd be a fierce opponent in a tussle. I was suddenly exhausted.
"Magick," I chose. Clara rubbed her palms together.
"You’re gonna love this," she promised, her smile feral.
.
Chapter 22
Justice
Stella
fidgeted before Tess and Clara.
"Well. I would say your bonding spell on her looks has dissipated," Tess murmured to Clara.
"Safe to say. I just can't get over the resemblance," Clara muttered.
Whatever spell Clara had cast, my scalp and body felt squeaky clean. She'd then spoken some words and my hair had dried. If there was ever a reason to learn or be skilled at magick it was to save time getting ready in the morning.
"Can I look now?" I asked for the umpteenth time. Alarmed by their silence, I turned to face the mirror and jumped. When I raised a hand to my cheek, the girl in the mirror did the same.
"What did you do to me?" I whispered.
"I think the cleanup spell may have cleared away the last of the physical bonding enchantment. It detoxes anything that doesn't belong," Clara said as her wide eyes wandered over my reflection. Apparently, I wasn't the only one in shock. Tess appeared just as unhappy as I felt.
"If it removes things then why am I wearing makeup?" I squeaked.
"That's just an enhancement spell. It was meant to dry and trim up your hair a bit—darken your eyelashes. What you see is almost entirely you, Stella," she said.
I stared at the stranger in the mirror. I looked older somehow. My thick blonde hair now held platinum highlights. Siren waves fell across my shoulders and down my back. My eyes were a more vivid shade of blue and fringed with sooty, long lashes. I peered closer and noticed freakish silver strands of color streaking from my irises.
Even my eyebrows were perfectly groomed and symmetrical. I rubbed my lips and checked my fingers. No trace of lipstick, although my lips were fuller and a rose shade unlike their usual color. My body seemed a little fuller in places as well. A thought raced and I checked my thigh. Nope. The pale line I’d acquired from being thrown from a horse was still there. Relief filled me at that at least. I’d earned my scars.
"She looks just like a petite version of Lila. How is this possible after so many generations?" Tess gasped with a dumbfounded expression. Anger flashed, and my hands squeezed into tight fists.
"No more. No more secrets and no more deception. I mean it! I'm tired of being a plaything." I turned back to the mirror and tried not to hyperventilate. Throughout all of the recent craziness, I was still me. The same boring but “me” face. I swung around on Clara.
"Turn me back to how I normally look,” I demanded.
She shook her head, stepping backward. "You just told us not to do magick on you. Not to deceive. This really is you, Stella. If I change you back, that would be the lie.” Tess jumped in. “Clara is right—but witches with skill can change their appearance. This is not the end of the world if you want to one day change your appearance,” she sympathized. Clara frowned at her and Tess shrugged. I floundered for a moment, working out what I wanted to say. Then a pounding at the door interrupted us.
"Stella! Are you okay? I felt…I thought I heard raised voices." It was Alaric.
I freaked out, frozen, while Tess moved to open the door. As she turned the handle, I grabbed a towel off the sink and covered my head. When the door thumped open beneath the force of Alaric's hand, I pushed past everyone and ran to my bedroom. Locking it behind me I hurried to the closet. Grabbing undergarments, I added a pink patterned peasant skirt and a navy t-shirt and quickly dressed.
A discreet knock sounded just as I pulled the shirt over my head.
"Ms. Avery? Stella—Alaric asks that you join them in the library." Grayson. From experience I knew he wouldn’t leave unless I acknowledged him.
"No.” Seconds ticked by.
"Stella. He's very worried about you. If you don't come out, I'm afraid he will make a scene coming in here after you," Grayson said calmly. Which would raise eyebrows from Murad as to why Alaric cared so much about my well-being.
I paced the room and sighed. "Give me a few minutes." Silence loomed. I hurried to my dresser and grabbed a hair tie, pulling my mane into a low messy bun. A glance at the mirror proved that it just made my face stand out even more. I had like, zero pores and the girl in the mirror started looking terrified again. I pulled off the tie and moved hair close to the sides of my face, hoping it would distract from the changes. Shoulders back, I left my room for the library.
It was crowded, Jing having returned from wherever it was she'd gotten to. I stood in the doorway; eyes downcast to hide the nerves fluttering in my stomach. I refused to seek out Alaric, still annoyed with his ignoring me and putting me in this predicament.
"My God," Murad muttered. I glanced up to find him approaching with purposeful steps. I tensed as the inhumanness of his movements, noticing that his eyes had darkened to deepest red. There was a stillness to the room that confirmed I wasn't the only one to notice Murad's lack of control.
"Lila?" he growled. The astounded hope in his claret eyes softened my anxiety. Oh, God, he thought he was seeing his lost love. I blinked rapidly to clear my vision. As he drew nearer, the hope in his expression faded, replaced with chagrin.
"No. Of course, you aren't Lila. You're Stella," he murmured apologetically. He blinked and his eyes were once more a warm brown. I was just glad he was moving normally again. That glimpse made me realize that Murad was much more than the façade he presented.
"I'm sorry, my dear. For a second, across the room...but of course you are yourself," he said. I allowed him to take my hands and stood passively as he pressed his lips to the back of each one. I squeezed his hands, feeling guilty for causing him pain.
"The resemblance is uncanny," he explained.
"She doesn't look any different to me," boomed Alaric, and I found him much closer than I'd thought. He was scowling. It was the most perfect thing he could have said. Maybe it would be okay. He looked away and my heart sank.
"Agreed. Stella is just as ugly as she ever was," Jing San added blandly. Laughter bubbled up from my throat, the sound more hysterical than amused.
Murad’s shoulders rounded. I couldn’t imagine what he must be going through. Impulsively, I put my arms around him. It felt good when he hugged me back. Now that I knew his story, I better understood how upsetting this must be. He pulled away, taking my hands again.
"I’m sure this is a shock to you as well. Especially coming on the heels of such a loss. What do you need right now, to feel alright with this?" Murad asked. His earnest interest in my well-being made it easy to respond.
"Time would be nice. If everyone can just leave us—me—alone for a while. I promise I won't fall back into sleeping all day. I just don't want to talk to strangers and try on a bunch of clothes." I didn't look at Clara and Tess but they had to understand I was referring to them. I didn't give a flip if they thought I was being uncooperative. Between the museum trip and the shock of my reflection, I'd hit my limit.
Murad nodded. "Consider it done." I blinked. That was way easier than expected.
"Murad! We need to at least take her measurements," Tess yelped, fluttering her delicate
hands.
"Murad is right, Tess. This was a big shock and we need to let Stella come to terms with it," Clara said. There was a speculative gleam in her eyes and I expected retaliation. Tess flipped hair as shiny as a raven's wing behind her shoulders.
"Ugh! Of course. Our Noble King has spoken." Her lips twisted wryly as she continued, "I suppose we can handle any last-minute alterations—Murad, why don’t we go have cocktails at Tavern on the Green? We haven't done that in ages." Tess looped her arm through his and gently tugged. He stood immovable and she stepped back when he bent to kiss both of my cheeks in the European fashion. As he leaned in, I saw Tess frown over his shoulder. She saw me notice and offered an encouraging smile. She was trying to distract him. Gratitude swelled to have her at my back.
"You are a survivor. Never forget that," he whispered before pulling back. He eyed Alaric. "Take care of her." Alaric nodded, as did Jing. I followed the group to the elevators. The evil wink Clara gave me, while the others were turned away, only confirmed my suspicions. When they returned for me in three weeks I expected to be presented with the ugliest dress in creation.
The elevator doors finally closed, to my immense relief.
"Well, you just earned a reprieve. Use your time wisely," Jing San said before disappearing deeper into the apartment. I hadn't yet figured out where she went to and I'd never seen her leave by the elevator. Alaric studied me impassively and I pushed a loose strand of hair behind my right ear, self-conscious. He broke the silence.
"I've arranged for your artwork to be crated tomorrow. They'll be shipped to his Majesty’s home—Murad’s home in Paris," he said stonily. I didn't give a fig about the canvases, and I didn't like him planning to get rid of me so quickly. Before he could step away, I latched onto his wrist. He froze, then tugged easily from my grasp.
"Wait! Can I talk with you?"
He crooked a finger over his shoulder and continued long strides to his office. I followed his broad shoulders, a lump of nerves in my throat. Alaric deliberately kept the door wide open. I waited for him to move away and then closed it firmly. When he sat behind his desk, I refused to let him hide behind it. Moving to his side, I planted myself on the corner of his desk, facing him. He pushed my skirt away from his legs and looked towards the wall of windows with a bored sigh. I drank in his gorgeous profile. His white dress shirt lay open at the neck, its sleeves rolled-up to reveal strong forearms. He didn't look over twenty-three years old but I’d recently learned that with Primati, looks can be deceiving.
