Princess Nymeria's Arc

Chapter 24 of 32

Nymeria returned to her chamber to rest before the ball. On the bed lay a gown she had not left there. It was purple, the same shade as her eyes, spread across the covers like a spilled pool of dusk. A note rested on top in a fine hand. "For tonight. Wear it and hold your head high. — Celeste." The queen had chosen it herself. Nymeria touched the cloth. It felt like water under her fingers. She dressed slowly. The gown fell off her shoulders and pooled at her boots. When she turned to the mirror, she barely knew the woman looking back. The purple matched her horns and her eyes. For once she did not look like a hunted thing. She looked like she belonged in this shining castle. But her chest tightened. A gown could not stop her charm from breaking loose in a crowded hall. The doors banged open. Lyra swept in, wearing a green elven gown stitched with gold thread. She stopped short when she saw Nymeria. "Well," Lyra said. "My mother has taste. Annoying, but she has it." She circled Nymeria once, arms crossed. "You clean up better than half the nobles down there. Don't tell them I said that." Nymeria smoothed the skirt. "You look beautiful too." "I look like a curtain," Lyra said. "A very expensive curtain my mother is trying to marry off tonight." Her grin dropped for a moment. She hid it fast, but Nymeria saw it. Lyra hated this ball as much as she did. "You don't have to smile," Nymeria said quietly. Lyra shrugged. "Someone has to. Might as well be the one with jokes." She grabbed Nymeria's hand. "Listen. When your charm starts pulling loose down there, find me. It won't touch me. Stand by me and breathe. That's the whole plan." It was a good plan. Simpler than any spell in her book. Nymeria nodded and squeezed the elf's hand. They walked together to the top of the grand stair. Below, the hall blazed with light and music. Nobles filled every corner. Men turned as Nymeria appeared in her purple gown, and she felt the old pull rise in her chest, hungry to spill out. She gripped Lyra's arm. "Breathe," Lyra murmured. Nymeria breathed. She held the pull down, inch by inch. It did not break free. She stepped onto the first stair in the queen's gown, calm and whole, and started her descent into the crowd. Then a voice cut through the music from the floor below. A herald announced the return of the queen's son.