The Summer King Bundle 3 Stories - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,29

of my targets there once before, but I’d lost sight of him once he left.

The Court on Canal couldn’t be discovered on a Google search or on any must-see lists for when someone visited New Orleans.

The place was where nothing should be.

I’d found it on one of my mother’s maps and one day I’d checked out the location and discovered that it was very much a real place—a place that not even the Order seemed to be aware of.

Once I was done finding the fae who’d attacked that night, I’d hand over the maps to Miles. I would tell him about The Court… and the other places. Just not yet.

I was hoping tonight would be as fruitful and not as eventful as Saturday night. I wasn’t worried that I’d run into the Prince again, even though he so obviously knew it had been me Saturday night. I’d been to The Court numerous times and hadn’t spotted him once.

Plus I was planning to keep an eye out for the missing younglings during my travels. I knew it was unlikely, at least I hoped, that I’d see one of them at The Court.

After a quick shower, I pinned my hair flat and got down to becoming someone else. Walking into the closet, I knew the perfect dress for tonight.

Black. Short. Simple.

Plucking it off the hanger, I wiggled into it, relieved to see that the material was some kind of stretchy knit as I tugged the hem down. It ended mid-thigh. I turned to the floor-length mirror and did the bend-over test.

Breasts pushed against the plummeting neckline, coming this close to falling out, and the cheeks of my butt peeked out under the stretchy material.

I straightened, smoothing my hands down the sides of the dress. Okay. Definitely not bending over in this in public.

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed my makeup case and went into the bathroom. The makeup took awhile, because I had to take my time to get it right, but when I was done, my face was virtually unrecognizable. Cheeks contoured until they were sharp and high. Lips outlined to be plumper and filled in with a color that was only a shade or two darker than my natural lips. I even filled in my eyebrows before tackling the eyes. I gave myself what I thought was a dark and smoky, mysterious look. Since I was leaving the contacts out, I put on some false eyelashes, and decided that if I didn’t end up with a sty at some point during this, I was a mutant.

Back in the closet, I browsed the selection of wigs as I nibbled on my fingernail. Blonde. Red. Brown. Black. Purple. The vibrant wigs would draw too much attention at a place like The Court, so I picked the short, chin-length black wig and slipped it on, securing it in place and then combing it down so it was smooth and sleek.

The boots were… difficult. Made of some kind of stretchy material that covered the calves and knees with no zipper, I almost winged them across the bedroom trying to get them on. Sweat dotted my forehead by the time I was completely dressed.

And I was panting, a little out of breath as I slipped the iron cuff on my wrist.

Done, I turned to the mirror and grinned at my reflection. “I look like Aeon Flux,” I said, cocking my head to the side. “A much sluttier version of Aeon Flux. Perfect.”

* * * *

The Court on Canal looked like a, well, like a dump from the outside. The kind of place you’d expect to get a little food poisoning with your crawfish if you were brave enough to actually eat whatever they served, but the inside was all upscale.

Bar and booths made from wood refurbished from Katrina. Thick, leather-cushioned stools. Shiny, always clean high top round tables, and I’d never so much as seen a stray napkin in any of the private booths that sat back from the tables, lining the walls.

I carried only a black clutch as I strolled to the bar, wholly aware of the glances that lingered and followed while pretending that I wasn’t.

It was weird to me. The knowledge that dressed like this, looking like this, I wasn’t invisible. I was no longer a ghost, but I was….

What had the Prince said to me?

You are nothing but lies and façades.

Ugh.

He was right, and I really, seriously disliked him for that.

I wasn’t this incarnation of myself. I could feel the warmth of