Taken The Coldest Fae - Katerina Martinez Page 0,1

woman beautiful enough to do it justice. Then I caught myself in the long mirror running along the entire length of one wall, and I frowned.

I was short and pale, my hair a dull, uninspiring kind of brown, my body slight and petite. A black beanie hat sat on my head, I was wearing my lucky blue scarf and black sweater over a floaty skirt. I only wore a little makeup, enough to darken my eyes and bring a little contrast to my otherwise pasty complexion.

In other words, princess, meet peasant.

The only thing we had in common was, we were both wearing clothes I had made myself.

“Wow…” I gaped, staring at Lydia as she glided across the room toward the mirror.

She spun around once, twice, three times. Each time she did, the dress would shimmer and move with her form like it was made of water. She was radiant, immaculate, and yet, she made a sound I wasn’t expecting to hear.

“Hmmm.”

I stared at her. Hmmm? What did hmmm mean? Didn’t she like it? Not to blow my own trumpet, but the dress was my finest work yet. I’d never made anything quite so perfect before and wasn’t sure if I’d be able to do so again, not for a while. Working with real, magic, Night Spinner thread wasn’t easy, but the payment from this dress was going to solve so many problems, the many weeks of frustration and insane tiredness would be worth it in the end.

But she’s said hmmm.

“It’s stunning,” I said, deciding to finally speak. “I mean, you’re glowing right now.”

“It is quite spectacular,” Lydia said, her voice delicate, but firm; the voice of a graceful disciplinarian. “But…”

“Is… there something wrong?” I ventured, my heart racing now for a different reason. “Is it the fit? Because I can adjust it.”

“No, the fit is fine. The dress itself is fine.” Lydia twirled again, her blonde curls cascading gently over her shoulders. “There’s just… I’m not sure. I feel like something’s missing. Is something missing, Dawn?”

Fine? I would’ve been seething if I wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack.

“I think you look regal,” Dawn said, “The Queen herself has never worn a dress quite like this one before.”

Good. That’s good. More of that, please.

“I don’t know,” Lydia said. “I like it, but I’m not in love with it.”

“Whatever it is, I can fix it,” I said, taking a step toward her only to instantly regret it.

Lydia snapped around to glare at me, her nostrils flared, her lips curled into a frown. Meekly, I took a step back, remembering my place. I was human, she was a mage. Mother Helen had taught me better than to step toward another mage like that. They didn’t like humans getting so familiar.

I’d just made the situation ten times worse. Great.

For some strange reason, Lydia decided to soften up a little instead of zapping me to death. She stared at me from atop her turned up nose and lazy eyes, almost like she was sizing me up. “I want a discount,” she said.

And there it was, the real reason for this show she was putting on. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the dress. The dress was perfect. Christ, it was magic. What she wanted was to pay less than we’d agreed, and that meant she wasn’t just a snobby bitch; she was a cheap one, too.

“A… discount?” I asked, “But, we already agreed on the price.”

“And you have been paid half of what we’d originally agreed,” she said, “However, you haven’t entirely delivered on your part of the transaction, though, have you?”

“I haven’t?”

She turned to the mirror again. “You promised this dress would make me younger.”

“No, I said the dress would make you look and feel younger. I also promised it wouldn’t lose its shimmer for over a hundred years, I promised the seams would never break, and I promised it would be hand-stitched to fit your exact shape. I’ve made good on all of those promises, so far, so I don’t understand why you want to pay less?”

“You forget yourself, girl,” Dawn barked. She was sneering at me from the door, like a Pitbull guarding its owner. “You are addressing Madame Lydia Whitmore, Mistress of the Whitmore Academy of Ballet, and you will address her with the respect she deserves.”

I glared at the heavyset woman by the door. “I’m not being disrespectful, but I don’t think it’s right to change the terms of a deal.” I turned to face Lydia again. “With