Page 62 of Crown of Death
An hour later, the masseuse leaves and I shower, rinsing all the oils from my body and hair. When I step out of the bathroom, I’m glad I wear a robe, because two women wait for me. One wielding a rolling bag of hair stuff, another filled withcosmetics.
Nervously, I watch the clock tick closer and closer toward two o’clock. These women obviously know what they’re doing. The one styles my hair into a sweeping, elegant up do, with loose curls and strands framing my face. She places a golden laurel branch into one side ofit.
The other expertly applies my make-up. Dark and golden and fierce. But surprisingly, she doesn’t use mass amounts of it. Just enough to highlight my natural features, and enough to make me look the part of someone strong enough to stand as a human in a room full ofvampires.
They finish at a quarter to two, and offer to help me into mydress.
Nervous, I zip the garment bag open, scared to see Cyrus newest pick for mywear.
Gold.
So muchgold.
The womenooandahover the dress as carefully, so carefully, they help me intoit.
It’s a mermaid style, hugging my hips and the skirt fans out just above my knees, spilling in soft, golden silk to thefloor.
The upper half hugs my hips, my waist, my chest. A halter top circles my neck before splitting down the middle, exposing the space between my breasts, dipping down to nearly my bellybutton before closing up again. It is adorned entirely with golden feathers. Soft,shimmering.
I step in front of a mirror, and evenmybreath is takenaway.
I look like…like a goddess. The goddess of phoenixes, wife of Midas. Ready to blind the world, or burn it to theground.
“It’s…” I breathe. “Incredible.”
But when I turn to thank my helpers, they’re alreadygone.
My heart leaps into my throat when I look at the clock and find it five minutes to the hour. I slip my feet into the matching gold sandals and walk out of thesuite.
My heart pounds, faster and faster as I rise, headed back up to the topfloor.
And I realize, it’s because ofCyrus.
I keep picturing his reaction to seeingme.
Suddenly the doors slideopen.
It’s a black and gold wonderland. The lights overhead reflecting off the mirrors have changed from blue and purple to gold. Everyone who mills about wears black, but gold masks adorn theirfaces.
Across the room, my eyes immediately search for him, and there he is. Sitting upon his throne, wearing thatcrown.
Cyrus’ eyes lock withmine.
Herises.
And slowlysmiles.
The rest of the room seems to sense a shift. The space grows quieter. And slowly I feel eyes turn in ourdirection.
I take a step forward. My heartraces.
Cyrus also stepsforward.
It takes an eternity to cross the great hall. The pressure of so many eyes watching is intense, intimidating. But I meet Cyrus’ eyes. And like locking in, I’m drawn toward him, one step at atime.
Finally, we meet in themiddle.
Cyrus extends a hand, and I place mine in his. He takes a deep bow, reverently pressing a kiss to myknuckles.