Wings of the Wicked - By Courtney Allison Moulton Page 0,148
an elegant, ruched empire waist, the folds of chiffon fell to the floor. I stood up on my bare tiptoes to see what it would look like in heels and decided that I looked rather silly being barefoot in this extravagant gown. I needed the right heels. I rummaged through the closet and tossed out unwanted shoes until I found a pair of strappy gold sandals, and I slipped them on. With the added inches of height, I nodded in approval.
Will knocked at the door. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah,” I answered nervously. “Come in.”
The door opened and he stopped dead in his tracks. I fought the urge to fold my arms over myself in embarrassment as he stared at me. He swallowed hard as he came into the room, each of his steps slow and careful. His lips moved soundlessly for a second before he finally made words come out. “You’re beautiful.”
My cheeks flushed as red and dark as my hair. “Thanks. I don’t have any makeup on and my hair isn’t done.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
The flush was only getting worse. I touched my cheeks and they were red-hot. “I don’t have a boutonniere or anything for you.”
He looked at the ceiling for a brief second as if he didn’t know what I was talking about. “Oh, right. Yeah, that’s in here.” He held out the corsage box. “Sorry, I don’t know how any of this goes. Kate said to give this to you and you would know.”
I grinned stupidly at him fumbling over himself. He removed the corsage from the container, and instantly I smelled jasmine. The delicate, satiny white flowers dotted a mixture of green leaves and smaller flowers whose colors matched my dress.
“I know how much you love jasmine,” he said, his eyes on my wrist as he slipped the corsage over my hand. “I told Kate that’s the flower you would want.”
I nodded, fighting the tears again. If I was really going through with this, I’d have to clean up my face and put on makeup. I didn’t have a whole lot of time to do it all if we weren’t going to be late. I took out the boutonniere and started to pin it to Will’s tuxedo as he took a deep breath and set his jaw tight. I looked up to meet his eyes.
“Nervous?” I asked with a quick smile before going back to pinning the boutonniere so I wouldn’t stab him accidentally. He seemed to get impaled a lot during fights, so I didn’t want to be guilty of that too.
“Yeah.” He softened and forced himself to relax a little more. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“It’s not so bad,” I promised, finishing and straightening the boutonniere. There were jasmine flowers in it that matched my corsage. “Humans do it every year. I think you’re tough enough to survive prom.”
“I want to do this, though,” he assured me. “For you, because it would make you happy.”
I looked back up at him, feeling the sting of more stupid tears. I was such a crybaby. “Thank you.”
“I’d do anything for you,” he said in a quiet voice. “Gladly.”
“I know,” I replied.
“Are you about ready? What else has to be done?”
“I have to do my hair,” I said, sniffling very unattractively.
“Leave it down, just the way it is. I like it when it’s down.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of folded satin. Within was the beautiful phoenix hair comb. I nearly choked on another sob. “Wear this in it.”
My hands shook as I accepted the comb and headed to the bathroom down the hall. I studied my hair, deciding what to do with it, and settled on pulling bits of it up and pinning it with the comb. The deep shades of red, purple, and gold swirling through the firebird burned in my dark chocolate red hair, matching my dress perfectly. I adjusted the comb and turned my head side to side, admiring the piece. Then I washed my face and dug through my makeup bag to make myself look presentable.
I only needed one more thing. I went back into my room to my dresser, feeling Will’s eyes on me. I grabbed my winged necklace, and before I could put it on, Will was there, lifting the necklace and latching it around my neck. As soon as the glossy pendant touched my skin, I felt warmer, more contented, braver, as if it had a power of its own.