Curse of the Wolf King - Tessonja Odette Page 0,91

I don’t need a proper ballgown. I’ll be managing the floor, not participating in the festivities.”

He shrugs. “As my employee, I think I should get a say in what you wear to my events. Think of it as a required uniform.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “So, you’re saying I’m being forced to wear this?”

“No, of course not,” he says with a furrowed brow. “It’s just…it’s a gift. I wanted you to have it. Wear it or throw it away if you don’t like it. I’ll take no offense. However, I can’t say I won’t be disappointed if I am never to see you in it.”

My breath hitches, my stomach swarming with a strange warmth at his words, at the look in his eyes. The timbre of his tone seems to reverberate through my bones, relaying far more than his words can. I know it’s all in my imagination, but it makes me eager to change into the gown just the same. “I’ll wear it,” I say, my voice barely above a breathless whisper.

“Wonderful.” He pushes off from my doorframe. “I’ll see you in the ballroom soon then.”

“Wait,” I call before he can step away. He meets my eyes, and I find myself reeling to remember what I had meant to say. A flush warms my cheeks and I clasp my hands tight at my waist to keep them from fidgeting. “Thank you, Elliot. For the dress. It’s…beautiful.”

His face lights up for the briefest moment before he trains his lips into a modest smile. “You’re welcome.”

Then he’s gone, and I’m left with a gift—one more beautiful than all the jewels, roses, and luxuries I’ve ever been gifted before. Not even Oswald had lavished me with anything like this. And it isn’t just what the gift looks like. It isn’t about what it is at all.

It’s about what it does to my heart.

30

Once dressed, I stand before the mirror with my jaw hanging on its hinge. To say the dress is beautiful is an understatement. To say it is proper for a ball amidst the stuffy townsfolk of Vernon would be a lie. And yet, there’s no way I can take it off now that I’ve put it on, for never have I had the pleasure of wearing something so completely and utterly perfect.

The concoction of scarlet silk, chiffon, and lace reminds me of the fashions popular in Isola when I was a girl, and the gold accents give it a regal flair. It fits like a dream, which tells me Elliot must have given Amelie access to the dresses in my room last time she was here so she could take approximate measurements. Additionally, Amelie must have also guessed the necessary adjustments she’d need to make to those measurements, because where my borrowed gowns are slightly too tight, this one fits like a glove, hugging my curves and allowing generous room for my broad shoulders and hips.

The style itself is certainly what I consider fae, with its plunging neckline, low-cut back, and flowing skirts. The sleeves are close-fitting from my shoulders to my elbows, where they open to sheer chiffon that trails away from my forearms. The bust and waist are snug against my form, then flare out at the hips into layered skirts that sway with my every move.

Saints, Gemma, I say to myself. You’re going to draw way too much attention in this.

But it’s too late for second-guessing, for I’ve already committed to wearing it. Still, it takes no small strength of will to prepare myself to meet the masses that are sure to be gathering downstairs already. Like I always do when fear tries to get the better of me, I breathe in deep and count to five.

After that, I do it again, because I’m still not ready, nor can I stop my arms from shaking or the nausea churning in my gut. Names of those I know I’ll have to face tonight flood my mind. Father. Imogen. Mrs. Coleman. Mrs. Aston. Gavin Aston. Strangers I’ve yet to personally know. Voices. Whispers. Eyes staring like daggers. Taunting, leering—

I shake my head and try again. This is here. This is now.

With a deep breath, I force my mind to empty. Once my breathing grows steady, I conjure images again, but not of those I dread. I think of the people I’m looking forward to engaging with tonight. Nina, Mr. Cordell, Foxglove, Amelie, Ember. And of course…Elliot.

I don’t allow my mind to take me anywhere else but here,