jumpsuit again. “The girls are going to fall out of this thing, Scar.”
“I did offer you one of my bras,” Scar replies.
“I thought you were being sarcastic.”
Scarlet shoots Cat a sympathetic smile. “Maybe a little.”
We’re standing in the long, winding line for Casseldon Bianchi’s grand gala, Ty and me, with Cat and Scarlett behind us, decked out in the fanciest outfits Scarlett’s bargaining and Dariel’s connections could offer. Scarlett and Tyler look smooth as always, but Cat couldn’t look more uncomfortable in formalwear if the stuff was woven out of poison ivy. We’re slowly shuffling up toward the doormen (door aliens?) who’ll check our invitations.
And everybody’s nervous.
“Your girls will be fine,” Scarlett promises Cat again, adjusting her mask. “It’s meant to fit like that. It looks great. Wow, so does mine. I love this dress.”
I hear Fin’s voice in my ear, crystal clear through my tiny earpiece, but sounding a bit uneven. “Maker’s bits, Scarlett … Not that you don’t have an appreciative audience back here at base, but if you’re going to give us a view like that, maybe a little warning? Dariel just dropped a mug of hot caff all over me, I think he’s short-circuited something in my suit.”
“Just doing my bit for morale,” Scarlett purrs, smug as can be.
“I mean, normally I wouldn’t complain,” Fin adds.
“I’ll give you something to complain about,” Cat mutters.
We’re nearly at the front of the line, and now I’ve got a clearer view of the pair of aliens—both perfectly identical—who are checking invitations. They have brown, leathery skin, and small heads that remind me of binoculars, huge eyes dominating their faces. Their necks look a little too thin to support them, and their arms are long and spindly, ending in twig-like fingers. As I watch, one leans right out over its silver podium to extend a long finger, and trail it slowly across the invitation a particularly tall, pink-skinned woman is offering up for inspection.
“They’re really looking at the invites carefully,” I murmur, and at my side, Ty tilts his head in closer to mine to get a look.
“Confidence,” he murmurs. “Slow breaths. Play it like you belong here.”
My gut does a slow flip. I don’t belong. Not just here, but anywhere in the galaxy. I was supposed to live two centuries ago. The tiredness and the fear feel as though they’re stretching out the bonds that held me close to my family until they’re dangerously thin, ready to snap and leave me utterly alone.
I’m not sure what will happen then.
Dariel swore the invitations were as good as real—which isn’t the same thing as real—but Fin seemed to trust him. Our Betraskan squad mate looked a little sick at asking the favor, and I could tell that somewhere in the complex web of family obligations, he’d just racked up another big one. He’s been talking a little extra, a little more obnoxiously, ever since. Covering his nerves, I think.
I’m slowly learning them, these six young soldiers who hold my life in their hands. Though even if I’d met them five minutes ago, I couldn’t miss Cat’s simmering frustration. I’m standing arm in arm with Ty, and she’s behind us, arm in arm with Scarlett, and I can feel her gaze burning two holes right between my shoulder blades. My skin gives an uncomfortable twitch.
The outfit that’s bothering her so much is the most incredible tailored jumpsuit I’ve ever seen. It’s the same one I saw in my vision of her—navy blue, strapless and, despite her protests, structured enough to keep everything where it belongs. She’s paired it—or rather, Scarlett’s paired it—with silver boots that look like someone’s smashed a mirror to a million pieces, then glued it onto them in a perfect mosaic, and the mask covering her eyes is made of the same stuff.
She wears a thick, gleaming gold belt and no other jewelry—her tattoos are gorgeous, and they do the work for her, the jumpsuit’s back cut low enough to show off the spectacular hawk inked across her back and shoulder blades, matching the phoenix across her throat. Skin pale, eyes dark, and hair darker, she looks fearsome. The sort of person I want on my side, if only I could be sure she was.
She keeps looking at me in a way that makes me wonder.
Scarlett’s dress is a perfect complement to her Ace’s outfit, a deep turquoise gown that hits the floor—again, the exact same one I saw in my waking dream, though she brought it home without