She was right. It felt as though the same wound punctured my gut and a part of me had died with him. A sob escaped my lips and Mirabelle wrapped her arms around me, rubbing my back like a child while I fell apart in her lap.
When my sobs had quieted, she held me at arm’s length. “We have to go, My Lady. I need to get you out of here. There’s another guest room down the hall and?—”
“No,” I said, retreating from her touch. “I can’t leave him. Not like this.” I recoiled from her, throwing myself over Jase protectively.
“This”—she motioned gently to his still body—“isn’t him anymore. And I need to prepare you for... Well, that doesn’t matter. I have news.”
“You’re right, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Just leave me here to die.”
“Don’t say that.” Her voice sharpened. “Your princes are coming for you. We got word last night—they’re planning to infiltrate the castle. I need to get you ready. You can’t stay here.”
“I don’t want them to come,” I whispered. “I only bring death.”
A pinched look crossed her face a moment before her hand connected with my cheek. The slap wasn’t hard, but it was enough to cut through my hysteria.
“I’m sorry. But I had to do that. And I’m truly sorry about Jase. You need to pull yourself together. They’re coming for you whether you want them to or not. Staying here only puts them at risk. Is that what you want?”
“No,” I whispered.
“Good. Then kiss your prince one final farewell and let’s go.”
I turned to Jase one last time, drinking in the details of him—his face, his hair, the dagger beside him, still whispering the possibilities of sweet oblivion. I reached for it, clutching it to my chest. I had Gunner’s blade. Now Jase’s. My morbid mind wondered if I would have a collection of seven before this ended.
I shoved the thought away. This wasn’t a curse. It was a promise. I would never let this happen again. I brushed the hair from Jase’s brow and pressed a final kiss to his forehead. “Come find me in my dreams,” I whispered before getting to my feet and leaving him forever.
“I’m not wearing that,”I said when Mirabelle laid the dress on the bed. The dark mauve color reminded me of old blood, and I knew Johan had everything to do with the selection. My stomach turned at the thought of wearing it for him. “I’ll wear black.”
Mirabelle sighed. “I’d love nothing more than to place you in a dress of mourning, but this is the only option we have. You have to play nice for a little while longer.”
I ground my teeth, knowing I had no say in the matter, but neither did Mirabelle, so I couldn’t take it out on her.
I stood stoic, allowing her to dress me in the ridiculous ballgown, with its puffed shoulders and embroidered sleeves that hung all the way to the floor.
“Lift your arms,” she murmured, adjusting the corset with practiced fingers.
“Before you finish,” I said quietly, reaching into the folds of my cloak, “I need you to help me with this.” I reached for Jase’s dagger on the vanity.
Her hands stilled. Her gaze met mine, uncertainty clouding her eyes. We both knew grief had made me reckless.
“My Lady?—”
“Please,” I said, my tone harsher than I intended. “Just help me secure it. If anyone sees, they’ll take it from me.”
A tense moment passed, but then she nodded, reaching for the blade with careful hands. She tucked it between the boning under my breasts, adjusting the folds of silk to hide the outline. I winced as the cold steel kissed my skin. The laces tightened uncomfortably, but I didn’t complain when the stays dug into mysides. I welcomed the physical pain. It kept my focus away from the emotions that threatened to drag me down.
Once she finished, I walked back to the vanity. I wasn’t sure I recognized the woman staring back at me. Even with all the makeup Mirabelle had painted on my face, the dark circles under my eyes still showed. Nothing could hide the fact that my cheekbones were too prominent, that you could count every rib with this revealing neckline. I hadn’t had access to sprite ash, and death was growing impatient. I was fading quickly, and the sight actually made me smile. Maybe nature would simply take its proper course and I’d be dead in a week.
I spotted an inkwell on the vanity. I picked it up, toying with the cool glass bottle. Its dark depths seemed like a perfect metaphor for my soul. Without a second thought, I tipped it over, pouring the black ink down the front of the dress. I’d wear the costume he picked, but I’d make my own statement.
“Johan wanted this body, but he has to know I’m already dead inside,” I said, feeling a flicker of strength return as I voiced the truth aloud.
Mirabelle gasped. “My Lady!” she chided. “You may want to keep that bit of truth to yourself right now. Johan can hurt you in more ways than physical. I don’t want to see that happen to you.”
Her words were punctuated by a rumbling blast that shook the doorframe, sending dust trickling from the ceiling. Both of us jumped at the noise, scanning the room for any sign of danger.
“What was that?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe part of the plan?” Another blast rattled the stone walls, and my heart raced with a potent cocktail of anticipation and fear. Was it my beasts? Had they truly come for me?
