He disappeared into the walk-in closet, leaving me staring at Jonas. “You have got to be kidding.”
“Niall is a bit abrupt, I grant you—”
“A bit?”
“But he does have a point, Cassie. Your public image”—Jonas shook his head, causing the alien hair to waft about luxuriously—“it would be difficult to imagine how it could be worse, you know.”
“Then why haven’t you guys worried about it before?”
“Because we were waiting for things to cool down,” Niall told me, emerging with a heap of my clothes. “The public has a very short attention span and they forget details easily. Trying to eradicate or even amend their impression of you right after the story broke would have been impossible. Now it’s merely impractical.” He threw my clothes out the door.
“Hey!”
“Considering the damage, I would prefer another fortnight to pass, at the very least, before the ceremony,” he said, going back for another load of my belongings. “But I was told that we were at war and it couldn’t wait.”
“I just bought that!” I said, snatching an off-white slip dress out of his hand.
“For what?” he demanded.
“If you must know, I have a date tonight!”
“Really?” Jonas looked delighted. “May I ask with whom?”
“Mircea,” I said, only to see his face fall.
“Ah.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing, nothing. None of my business, after all.”
“Well, it is my business!” Slick said. “We can’t afford any more bad press. Such as you being seen with a vampire, particularly dressed like that!”
I looked down at the dress. It had a draped front and little spaghetti straps, but no sparkles, sequins or any decoration at all. Unless you counted what looked like the vague outline of tree branches that swayed across the silk, like shadows on a wall. It was beautiful and tasteful and one of my favorite purchases.
“And just what is wrong with this?” I demanded.
“On the hanger? Nothing. On you?” Slick looked me up and down and shook his head.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Two words: ‘foundation garment,’ ” he said, and snatched it back.
“There are such things as strapless bras, you know!” I told him furiously.
“And do you own one?”
“That’s also none of your—”
“That would be a no, then,” he said, and swept out.
I was about to chase him down and possibly beat him to death with a shoe—assuming he’d left me one—when Jonas piped up. “Of course, there are those who will agree with Niall,” he said diffidently.
I narrowed my eyes. “What is this?”
He took off his thick glasses and polished them on an already rumpled sleeve. Maybe they really were dirty, but it looked like a stalling tactic. Like he knew I wasn’t going to like whatever he’d come to say.
“This is my pointing out, however clumsily, that when one is Pythia, personal relationships are often . . . tricky.”