6

Leave Them Wanting

"Are you serious?" I blanch as Betina wiggles her eyebrows, holding up another revealing gown.

It is made of sheer fabric, with the darkest shades of red layered delicately atop one another. Embellishments of maroon roses and forest green shrubbery start beneath the neckline and cascade downward as the tiered material, thickest in the bodice, becomes more transparent as the full skirt reaches the floor, framing a thigh-high slit on the right side of the dress.

Inching forward, I run my hand along the fabric, admiring the beauty of it.

While I wish there was more cloth to conceal the monster wearing it, my stomach flips with a small gleam of excitement in dressing in the best of our kingdom's fashion.

"Does it have pockets?" I ask.

Betina's expression falters. "Unfortunately not."

I press my lips together, unable to formulate words over the lack of pockets. Not only do they hide my nerves, but they keep my hands warm and allow me the opportunity to carry Mother's mirror on rough days. Having it yesterday was a comfort, and to have it taken away for tonight has my stomach churning.

Betina is quick to cast my worries aside when she rests the gown on my bed. "All will be well, Tove."

She, of course, chose her own dress to be the opposite of mine.

Hers is modest and tight around her bodice and shoots outward from her waist. The deep rust-colored tulle accentuates her skin tone while complementing the chestnut highlights that brighten her hair.

I look back and forth between her and my own gown, my mind wandering with varying scenarios that could unfold tonight. I replay my conversation earlier with Niko, and my chest aches.

As if knowing my mind wandered to him, Betina says, "Fuck Nikolaj."

I snort.

She holds me, her voice gentle as she says, "The entire purpose of this week is for you to find an eligible suitor. Don't dwell on him."

Betina has never judged me for falling for Niko and was supportive of whatever decision I made regarding my affections. But she is right.

I need to make the best of tonight regardless of the pain I am in. Physically and emotionally.

Flashing her a hint of amusement, I offer some small news. "Well, there was a suitor—"

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

A small laugh escapes me. "I am telling you now, aren't I?" I huff as her eyes squint, thinking I wouldn't tell her.

Maybe I shouldn't.

"Who is he? What does he look like? Is he a nobleman? From another kingdom?" Her brown eyes glimmer at the prospect of details.

I wave off her questions as I pour a glass of water, eating a snack to help my cramps be more manageable during tonight's event. I might need to sneak away through the night for another dose of medicine.

"I don't think I should tell you."

Her posture stiffens and she braces her hands on her hips. "Why not?"

I finish my snack and rest at my vanity.

There is kohl on the left side, meant for lining the eyes. I can never master it and always need Betina's assistance, but it doesn't hurt to practice. Especially as I withhold information from my friend.

I reach for the kohl and direct my attention to it rather than my own reflection staring back.

She repeats herself. "Why won't you tell me?"

Her nose wrinkles near her eyes, her cheeks bunching together in a perfectly annoyed face.

I almost break into a fit of laughter, peering over to meet her doe eyes. "Because I have no doubt you if you saw him, you would chase after him yourself."

She clicks her tongue. "That's no fair."

I snicker, choosing to keep him a secret.

Betina rolls her eyes at my deceit, still approaching to help style my hair. The soft tug on my scalp has kohl dragging across my eye. Now it is her turn to laugh.

"Don't worry. I'll fix it later," she says.

She swivels me around after finishing my hair, fixing my eyes, and adding rouge on my cheeks and lips, matching my gown. When she finishes, she grips my shoulders with a gleam in her eyes.

"Dress next."

I nod as she helps me change, apprehension looming over me as the gown drapes out across the floor. The thought of keeping up with royal appearances, avoiding Niko, and managing my cycle makes my skin crawl.

How am I going to avoid Niko all night?

Will any of the noblemen slip in maintaining protocol like I often do?

Stepping one foot at a time into the dress, my thoughts drift toward the scarred man and his easy mannerisms. It hints that he could be from a neighboring kingdom, but which one?

I wonder if he will be here again tonight.

I press the bodice of my gown to my chest as Betina fastens the laces into place. When she finishes, she claps with glee.

"You are going to be the center of attention tonight. No one will be able to keep their eyes off you." Betina twirls me toward the mirror, and I gasp at my outfit for the night.

Stepping closer and inspecting its intricacies, I marvel at how the gown complements my curves and feels lightweight. I run my hands all over the soft fabric and look at my image in the mirror, and a dark thought chimes in my mind.

This dress is going to leave men imagining.

If they even want to fantasize about being married to the Snow Queen.

I flinch at the imaginary ice cracking around me, a rumbling thunder echoing in my heart. My attention remains on the gown, reluctant to face the monster staring back.

The moment Betina places my crown on my head, it pinches above my ears, a figurative transformation taking deep root. Betina regards me carefully and extends her elbow to me.

I tilt my chin and latch on to her in a death grip as we make our way from my chambers and down to the ballroom, relying on her support with each step.

After my announced arrival, I enter the ballroom gradually, marveling at tonight's theme.

Tonight's festivities feature decorations adorned with oranges, yellows, reds, and browns. The hanging chandeliers project an orange hue, while red and yellow drapes adorn the outer walls, creating an appearance of fall. Floor-to-ceiling curtains and arched windows are also fitted with lush cherry-red fabric, accentuating the brown branches wrapped around each pillar as the dark rugs spread across the tile.

"Make tonight memorable," Betina whispers as we approach my throne.

She guides me to it, light shining across her features before breaking into a curtsy. As she leaves me to rest, I sense everyone's attention.

Carefully, I scan each face, stopping when I meet Niko's deep golden stare. I knew he was taking me in as I was him, but I cower away from his gaze, hoping he takes it as a dismissal.

Luckily, a staff member is nearby with a platter, holding one cup I can only hope is wine. I extend my gratitude as I take the glass and swallow down the contents in one gulp, my head immediately swimming.

"May I please have another?" I ask.

He nods and disappears when I pivot to the crowd.

Niko is gone, and I hope it is the last I will see of him tonight. I don't know how strong I can be if he comes near me.

My body contracts, and I drop my head, tensing and placing pressure over my abdomen.

Deities, I should have taken more medicine.

"My Queen," a deep voice I recognize whispers.

I shoot up to the real-life deity standing in front of me. My mouth runs dry at the sight.

He is drenched in all black, from his tunic loosely held by his vest to his trousers and a pair of gloves placed on the side of his hip.

The scarred man's deep glacial blue eyes study me through his contrastingly devious grin.

I shrivel inwardly, the reminder of how I thought about him last night heating my cheeks.

He extends his hand, asking, "May I be your first dance of the evening?"

The hair on the back of my neck rises at the richness of his voice, forcing me to bite my lip before speaking. "I would like that very much, Lord… ?"

His dimple appears through the small wisps of his black hair. "There is no need for formalities when all I need is your hand in mine."

While I am aware of his deflection, I do not have the energy to keep pressing him for his name. I need to maintain my regal appearance and mask the pain attacking my insides.

Deities, I should have asked Betina for extra medicine before she left.

I take my time rising, clenching my muscles so they behave. If I can get through one dance, I can get this man's name and then find Betina.

A warm gentleness soothes me as I place my hand into my dance partner's—a small comfort I focus on as knots are twisting and pulling in my stomach.

He loops it around his arm, guiding us down the dais.

A rupture of spasms explodes in my pelvis, and I clench my teeth as we reach the dance floor.

I drape my hand over his shoulder as his intoxicating cologne clouds my senses. But when a rush of pain shoots inside me, I pinch my eyes closed and cling to the scent as a welcome distraction.

The musicians play a slow melody, the required soft swaying another blessing that will allow the chance to conserve my energy. But when I look upward, the scarred man's handsome features furrow.

"I am sorry. Did you say something?" I ask.

"I asked if you wanted to be here," he replies. "I know I am not the best dancer."

Embarrassment crosses my features as I try to come up with a good excuse, but nothing comes to mind because the only thing driving me right now is the soft caress his thumb does on my hip.

Oh fuck, that feels so nice.

I whimper a soft moan of pleasure as the slight rubbing distracts me from my cycle pains. I close my eyes to the soothing contact, and my thoughts drift to the tune of the music.

The melody is euphoric, passionate, and slow, begging each dancer to dance in rhythm with the same vigor.

I loosen as it calls to me, finding the music's reprieve.

"Tove," my dance partner says, drawing me closer, breaking my stupor.

I scold him through gritted teeth, protocol slipping. "You should not be addressing me so plainly."

His charm cracks when our gazes meet, blue eyes peering into me with pure annoyance. "I can leave if you'd like."

The following spasm is unbearable, and it takes all my strength to not show weakness.

I want to apologize, but the music begs for us to part.

Drifting away to spin into him, I am winded and wiped clean of energy.

The room gets heavier, readying to collapse around me as another pang of cramps reverberates through my gut.

Strong hands reach for me, and it is all I can do to lean on them for support. They are the only thing I can focus on.

My vision blurs the light from the chandelier with the people surrounding me.

I feel… like I am in the sky.

My grip slackens as I whisper, "I don't think I am feeling well."

"That's a wonderfully good excuse to get out of—"

The room collapses.