“Thank you all for the vote of confidence,” Conall said dryly to no one in particular.
“One more thing.” That was the tattooed man who definitely wasn’t Wrench.
Conall waited for it.
“I used to hurt people for a living. I don’t much like to do that no more, but know that I could, if something happened to gazelle.”
“There’s a big ocean out there a body could be lost in pretty easily,” Bastian added with a cheerful smile.
And, they were back to threats of violence.
Conall honestly wasn’t sure if these were serious.
Chapter 13
When Lydia’s voice had grown rough from telling stories, Jenny and Saina arrived. Saina sang mesmerizing Christmas songs about snow and reindeer and Santa Claus.
Jenny brought snacks. It was dark out, and Gizelle grateful ate pieces of cheese and circular brown crackers. She had not expected Lydia’s work to take so long or make her so hungry.
Finally, Lydia told Gizelle, “You can get up now.”
Gizelle barely could. She had been sitting so long that her feet tingled when she stood on them, and her fingers felt numb where she’d been gripping the arm of the chair too tightly. Lydia had turned on the lights at some point, and when she led Gizelle to the corner with all the mirrors, Gizelle felt like she was in a spotlight on a stage.
It was like looking at someone else.
Lydia had washed and brushed through all of her hair, leaving it shining and glossy, and so silky that it didn’t feel like Gizelle’s head anymore. Then Lydia had trimmed it, leaving a pile of foot-long pieces all over the floor. And finally, she had braided it, with the sides pulled up to the top of her head. The braid, dramatically dark and light, swung down to her waist, with a short little swirl of soft hair at the end.
Gizelle’s neck felt naked. Her scalp felt tender. Her balance was off, with the weight of her hair tugging her backwards.
She looked at her nails, all perfectly rounded and shining with color. She wriggled her toes and wrinkled her nose.
She looked around, and realized that Lydia, Saina, Jenny, and Laura were all staring at her, waiting.
“You made me look pretty,” she said shyly. “Thank you.”
They all clapped and broke into happy chatter.
Lydia brought her a red dress. “This one laces up the sides so we can make it fit you,” the swan shifter told her as Gizelle shimmied out of her sundress, careful of the swinging braid.
“I won’t shift in it,” Gizelle promised. If she could sit through this, she’d be able to get through a dinner without panicking.
Probably.
“It’s red like Christmas,” she said dreamily, as Lydia laced up the dress. It felt different than her usual loose dresses or plain wraps. It hugged her thin form, making her think too hard about her skin where it touched fabric. That made her think about other people touching her skin.
She unexpectedly didn’t think she’d mind if Conall did.
Her reflection blushed as she felt her cheeks heat, a phenomena that fascinated her.
She was trying to touch her own blush in the mirror, chasing it around the corners, when Lydia asked her, “Are you ready?”
Gizelle straightened, leaving her reflection with a flip of her new braid. “I’m ready,” she said with confidence she only sort of felt.
“Breck’s set you a table in a private corner. Chef’s made you something you’ll like,” Jenny told her.
“If you need anything, you just have to raise your hand and ask for it,” Laura reminded her.
“I’m ready,” Gizelle repeated, less sure than ever.