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“How long are you staying with Heath’s family?” Bianca asked.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Merletta admitted.

“It’s good timing, isn’t it?” Heath said, his cheerful tone a little forced. “She’s arrived in time for the only celebration until summer.”

Bianca looked doubtful. “Do you think the ball will still go ahead? Everyone’s in a bit of a state over the dragons.”

“What? Why?” Merletta looked sharply between Bianca and Heath, noting that the latter looked uncomfortable.

“Nothing you need to worry about, Merletta,” he said firmly. “You have enough to contend with without adding Valorian politics to the mix. Bianca’s just told me that the dragons refused to light the flame, that’s all.”

“So they’ve all left?” Merletta asked.

Bianca nodded, her eyes passing thoughtfully between Heath and Merletta.

“It might be for the best if the ball you mentioned is canceled,” Merletta said. “I suspect I’d make a fool of myself. I’ve got no idea how these events work, and I don’t know what I would need to wear, or—”

“That doesn’t matter,” Heath assured her. “You can wear the gown you’ve got on.”

“No, she can’t,” Bianca said flatly. “That’s a riding habit, not a ballgown.” She cast her cousin a pitying look. “You’re officially dismissed from any part in helping Merletta prepare for the ball.”

And before Merletta knew what was happening, she found herself being swept away by the other girl, back into the castle, with barely a chance to glance back at Heath. When she passed August, hovering just inside the doorway, she gestured helplessly at Heath, and the guard hurried down the steps, clearly seeking answers.

The afternoon was spent in Bianca’s rooms, in a whirl of preparation. Apparently the ball was to proceed as planned, although the dragons’ refusal to light the flame had rattled most people much more than it seemed to trouble Heath. At least, so Merletta concluded from the nervous whispers of every servant she encountered.

And there were servants everywhere. It was strange to Merletta to be in a castle, but Bianca was so friendly, Merletta found herself relaxing more than she would have believed possible. The other girl was similar enough in size that Merletta was able to borrow one of her gowns, and she had to agree with Bianca that it was nothing like the dress she’d been wearing that morning.

Bianca couldn’t quite hide her shock when Merletta took off her gown, revealing her scaled skirt and shells—the only things she was wearing underneath. The Valorian quickly mastered her reaction, explaining to Merletta with great patience about the undergarments usually worn by women in their culture.

“It’s so much,” Merletta commented, once she was all dressed. She felt weighed down, like she was doing one of her training exercises where she had to carry a rock up through the water. “And hard to move in.”

Bianca laughed. “Not once you’re used to it,” she assured her.

Merletta nodded. “I suppose it’s necessary to have the layers in this cold. Heath said it’s warm here sometimes, though. What do you wear then?”

“Much the same,” said Bianca with a smile. “It gets very hot, to be honest.” She led Merletta to a tall piece of furniture, its surface as reflective as still water. “Look at yourself in the looking glass. What do you think?”

Merletta stared at her own reflection, taking in the simple knot Bianca’s maid had created from her braid, and the small white flower tucked into her dark hair. In spite of the cold, her arms were mostly bare. The bands of fabric that formed the sleeves of the gown were set off her shoulders slightly, so that she didn’t have the choked feeling she’d gotten from the other dresses. The dress was tight around her waist, but flared out to an improbable size by the time it reached her feet, thanks to the layer upon layer of fabric hidden underneath it.

She turned this way and that to get the full effect of the gown. She’d been offered options, and she’d chosen a light purple dress, the color similar to that of her scales, although without the shimmer. It swished as she moved, like her hair flowing through water. She could almost picture the full skirts as a tail.

A smile spread slowly across her features, and she turned to Bianca. “I like it,” she said. “It feels…graceful.”

“It looks graceful,” Bianca told her kindly. A sly grin crossed her face. “And Heath will love it.”

Merletta felt herself coloring, and turned quickly back to the looking glass. Was it this simple? Could she shed her scales, don the coverings of Heath’s world, and take her place at his side? It was clearly what he wanted, and a part of her wanted it, too.

So why did the thought make her stomach clench with unease?

When she followed Bianca into the large room where the ball was to be held, however, she felt no unease. Only wonder. The space was enormous, the darkness lit by thousands of tiny flames of fire somehow suspended over thin pillars. Large swathes of fabric were draped from ceiling to wall in silver and purple—colors of the ocean—then trailed to the ground like seaweed. Long tables lined one side of the room, with many unfamiliar and fascinating delicacies piled upon them.

Merletta had barely made it into the room, however, when Heath appeared, and all thought of decorations or food fled.

“Merletta,” he breathed, his eyes seeming to drink her in.

She felt herself flushing again, but not with embarrassment. The warmth in Heath’s eyes was comfortingly familiar. She’d never had any need to be embarrassed with him. He held out his arm, and she stared at it.

“That’s a very nice jacket,” she said, trying to guess what he was after. “Is that the right word?”


Tags: Deborah Grace White The Vazula Chronicles Fantasy