TWENTY-TWO
Layla and Quin slept for nearly ten hours that night, the longest stretch of sleep either of them had gotten in months, and when Layla discovered her first attempt at a magical sanitary product was a success, she celebrated with a shake of her ass… in the privacy of the restroom of course.
She reentered the suite to find Quin unloading a breakfast tray from the inn’s kitchen, so she sat in front of a steaming cup of coffee, savoring the first sip as he warned her about upcoming tasks.
“Drexel’s already pacing outside our room.”
“Super,” she dryly replied, diving into a plate of bacon and crepes.
Quin opened the terrace, revealing a gorgeous jungle view. Then he sat and squeezed her thigh. “Today won’t be fun for you.”
“I’m not here to have fun. What should I wear?”
He rubbed his jaw as he hesitated. “Well, I think the commander wants a say in that, so unless you plan on telling him to go to hell, you might as well stay in your robe.”
Layla stopped chewing, her blood pressure climbing as she poised on the brink of telling him Drexel could kiss her ass if he thought he was dressing her up like a doll. But before leaping into the rant, she swallowed and took a step back, deciding she needed to choose her battles wisely. “Fine.”
Quin rubbed her back and kissed her temple. “It’s ultimately your decision. You can let him voice his opinion without listening to it.”
“I might. We’ll see what he has to say.”
They finished breakfast as quickly as possible. Then he sent the dishes to the hall while replacing them with the pile of registration forms.
Lithely twirling a pen, he shuffled through the papers while glancing at Layla. “Ready?”
She made sure her robe was tied shut before nodding. “Yeah, but only after you refill my coffee and give it to me with a kiss.”
He grinned as he dropped the pen. Then a fresh cup of coffee appeared in one hand as the other slipped around her waist, pulling her into a deep, spine-tingling kiss.
Their eyes stayed shut when their lips parted, and her heart sighed as she drifted her tongue over his lingering flavor. “Perfect. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He went in for one more quick kiss while passing over the mug. Then he opened their curtain with a wave before turning toward his paperwork.
A few Crusaders peered inside, and Drexel rounded the corner with Bryce in tow. “Are you ready to get started?”
“Sure.” Layla pointed out the clothes rack. “Those are your options.”
Drexel scanned the wardrobe. “No.” Then he motioned toward Bryce, who poked his head into the hall and called for someone to join them.
Layla glanced at Quin, who seemed intent on staying out of the situation. Then she returned her gaze to the door in time to watch two witches hover a much bigger clothes rack into the room. Drexel moved furniture against the walls to make space, and several of Layla’s coven members followed the strangers in. When the rack’s cover was removed, Brietta and Skyla gasped at a wide selection of elaborate gowns.
“You can choose from those,” Drexel allowed.
He pointed out Layla to the strangers who’d accompanied the dresses, and they moved forward, ignoring pleasantries as they measured Layla from crown to toe.
She scowled through the poking and prodding, but Brietta was a whirlwind of excitement as she gushed over the gowns. “You get to wear one of these? I’m so jealous.”
“Why?” Layla asked.
Brietta’s mouth fell open as she withdrew a beaded, onyx frock with a navel-deep V-neck, a flared mermaid hem, and large cut outs on the sides and thighs. “This is a Schmee.”
Quin seemed absorbed in his paperwork, but he was listening closely enough to smirk at Brietta’s answer. “She doesn’t know what that means, and she probably wouldn’t care if she did.”
Brietta rolled her eyes while holding the dress to her body. “It’s only one of the most popular couture brands in the magical world. No big deal.” After finding a mirror, she squealed at her reflection and searched out Kegan, begging with a flutter of her lashes. “I love it.”
He laughed while closing the distance between them, and after searching out the price tag, he told her to go try it on. She giddily skipped to the restroom, and Skyla pulled two gowns from the rack before rushing to catch up.
Layla crossed the suite and flipped through a few of her choices. “Why do I have to wear a designer dress to enter the city?”
“To make an impression,” Drexel answered, waving yet another stranger in.
The witch who rounded the corner carried a large, square case, and her raspberry-red hair was gathered into a big bow on top of her head. Not to be outdone, her makeup was as dramatic as her hair and included artistic eye shadow that gave the illusion her lashes wore matching bows.
Placing her case on an empty table, she scanned the room then pointed at Layla. “Is this her?”
Drexel nodded, so the witch urged Layla into the chair next to the table. “Are you wearing your hair up or down?”
Layla leaned away. “I can fix my own hair.”
“I’m not here to fix your hair.” She flipped a latch on her kit, opening it to an array of makeup. “I’m Jazmin. I’m here to fix your face.”
Layla scowled. “My face is fine.” Then she looked to the other occupants of the room. “Since when did magicians start wearing full makeup?”
Banning sat at the same table as Quin, helping Aradia with the registration process, but he paused to laugh at Layla’s disgruntled expression. “It’s pretty common in the city, especially among the artists and the elite.”
Jazmin took Layla’s chin and turned her face left and right. “And I’m the woman they come to for advice. What color is your dress?”
Layla pulled her chin free and warmed up her coffee. “Ask the man who hired you.”
Jazmin looked at Drexel, who skimmed the rack. “Cream and gold.”
“Why should I pretend I’m part of the elite?” Layla asked. “I should be trying to connect with the average citizen. What kind of sense does it make to fight corruption by becoming corrupt?”
Jazmin stood with the two witches who’d brought the rack, examining the dress Drexel had picked, but at the word corruption, all three glanced up.
Drexel narrowed his eyes on them. Then he told Bryce to fetch three nondisclosure agreements. The lieutenant obeyed, gathering signatures from the strangers, and only then did Drexel address Layla’s concerns.
“You’ll get plenty of opportunities to appeal to the average citizen, but if you enter the city looking like everyone else, no one will notice you, and you’ll hold no influence whatsoever. People on the street won’t even see you, let alone connect with you, and you’ll fail to impress those who pull the city’s strings.”
He was right, but Layla wouldn’t admit it, and she damn sure didn’t have to like it.
Brietta stepped from the washroom, looking like a badass in the skintight gown, its risqué gaps proving just how bold she was, and she didn’t bother hiding her scar, which made her even edgier.
Skyla emerged in a more modest dress, covered from chin to toe due to the floor-length hem, long sleeves and high neckline. But the black gown maintained sexiness with a sheer layer of tulle topped with swirling, lace appliqués, and the material on her outer shoulders gathered into sharp ridges, providing a sense of formidable witchiness.
Kegan lightly whistled while scanning them both. Then he moved to Brietta and got handsy with the exposed skin. “Worth every cent.”
“They’re appropriate,” Drexel approved. “The earth angel should be surrounded by soldiers, not tourists.” He located one of the personal shoppers. “Put all three dresses on the same ticket.” Then he turned to the other. “Show me what you have for wizards.”
“You can pick out a cloak,” Quin interjected, “but I’m wearing my own clothes.”
Drexel didn’t argue, and when he realized Aradia was in the room, he insisted on buying her a dress, as well, but she talked him down to a new cloak instead. She chose black to fit in with Brietta and Skyla, but the frock was far from plain. The bodice fit like a corset before branching into long, flowing sleeves, and the luscious velvet was adorned with silver clasps and lined with bright-white silk, which framed Aradia’s dark, copper face like a halo.
With a sweep of their hands, Kegan and Banning changed so they’d match the ladies, and Weylin must have gotten the memo, because he showed up looking sharp in a black shirt and relaxed slacks.
Layla hadn’t seen the dress she was supposed to wear, and she could only hope Jazmin wasn’t going crazy as she smeared makeup across Layla’s face. No one tried to stop her, so Layla wasn’t overly concerned, but Jazmin got frustrated as she worked on the final step.
With a dramatic groan, she straightened and pursed her ruby lips. “This is ridiculous. I can’t do anything with her eyes.”
Drexel stepped forward and stared down at Layla. “What’s wrong with them?”
“They’re weird. None of my techniques are working. I’ve spent my career getting paid to make eyes pop, but hers are way too big and way too round. They’re enormous.”
“Her eyes are gorgeous,” Quin countered. “End of story.”
“Umm… have you seen her in eyeliner and mascara?”
Quin looked up from his task to find Layla rolling her enormous eyes, and his lips twitched with a smile as he scanned her face. “They’re still the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.” Ignoring Jazmin’s huff, he met Layla’s stare. “What do you think?”
Following a glance at a nearby mirror, Layla scrunched her nose and curled her gold-dusted lip. “Too much eyeliner.”
Quin raised an eyebrow at Jazmin. “There you go. You used too much eyeliner.”
She tossed her hands up. “Typical. Don’t listen to the expert. Why did you bother hiring me?”
“Good question,” Brietta cut in, grabbing the eyeliner from the snooty expert. “I’ll take it from here. You can bill Drexel for the makeup you leave behind.”
Jazmin gawked at Brietta, her bejeweled hands on her squared hips, so Brietta moved in front of Layla and waved away the problem. “Shoo.”
Jazmin’s nostrils flared as her chest puffed up, but she was alone in a sea of power and had no hope of steering this ship. Snatching up her makeup case, she stormed from the room, and Layla quietly laughed while leaning away from the eyeliner looming over her.
“Do you know how to use that?”
Brietta turned and shrugged. “Not a clue. You?”
“Hand it over. I used to do my makeup for theater and dance. Grab me a mirror and a tissue. Does anyone have photos of people in Maganthia?”
Brietta moved the floor mirror as Drexel summoned a stack of travel brochures. Then Layla flipped through the pamphlets for a moderate example of Maganthian makeup, which was similar to hexless makeup, but with a touch of flair. Only a few of the photos featured women with artistic face paint, and none of them had big bows on their heads and eyelids, so the quirky look must have been unique to Jazmin. Thank goodness. The bows were cute, but they weren’t Layla’s style, and she didn’t have time to paint them on her face.
Once she’d done what she could with the eye makeup, there was only one person’s approval she sought, so she moved to Quin, gaining his undivided attention the moment her aura engulfed him.
Dropping his pen, he looked up and took her hand. “That’s better. It’s still a little jarring, seeing you in makeup, but you’re gorgeous. The gold looks good with your bonded light.”
“Thank you. I guess it’s time to see how it looks with the dress.” She motioned toward his paperwork. “Need me to do anything?”
He cleared his throat and tore his gaze from her face, shuffling through the forms. “Yeah. These need your signature.”
She signed without looking at them. Then she passed him the pen and turned toward the clothes rack, finding her excited cousin holding out Drexel’s chosen gown.
Layla couldn’t help but laugh as she took it. “Thanks.”
Retreating to the restroom, she ran a thumb across luxurious, cream silk, which was cinched at the waist with a solid, gold belt and embellished with ornate, gold appliqués. Once hidden behind a door, she dropped her robe and magically donned the gown, avoiding the buttons that trailed down her spine. The bottom hem halted mid-thigh, leaving the front of her legs bare, but the dress paired with a boat-neck cape that swooped over the sweetheart bodice before drifting to the floor at her sides and back. She pulled her hair free, thankful Drexel hadn’t picked anything too risqué or garish, but the gold details and unique cape gave the ensemble a regal feel.
Wiggling her toes, she opened the door and scanned the gawking occupants of the suite. “Do Maganthians wear shoes?”
The atmosphere shifted as some of them looked away, but Brietta bounded closer while holding up a pair of gold, platform heels. “Yes. These will look perfect. And you should wear your hair up to show off the pleat in the cape.”
Layla pursed her lips. Then she counted to three, trying not to snap.
Brietta noticed her frustration and pointed out Skyla. “You won’t be the only one wearing your hair up for the sake of fashion.”
Sure enough, the back of Skyla’s long hair was pinned under, but the shorter waves in the front hung down, giving the impression she had a stylish bob.
“Give it a try,” Brietta insisted, already playing with Layla’s hair. “If you don’t like how it looks, you can take it down.”
Layla sighed and accepted the heels, reminding herself to choose her battles. If she cooperated now, she’d feel more justified putting down her foot later, even if she was putting it down on a six-inch, golden heel. “Fine. But don’t even try to get all this hair on top of my head. It won’t fit without looking like a pterodactyl nest.”
Brietta clapped while following Layla to the makeup chair, but before they could start, Quin dropped his pen and stood. “Wait.”
Layla looked over, finding herself staring at his neck due to the height of her heels. He noticed the difference while closing the distance between them. Then he reached into her hair with both hands, gently burying his fingers in the heap of curls while touching his forehead to hers.
“You’re stunning.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you feel comfortable?”
“As comfortable as I’ll get today.”
“You’re probably right. This is going to suck, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. But I can keep you safe, and I will.”
“I know.”
He offered her a strained smile before kissing the tip of her nose. Then he lightly tugged on a lock of hair rooted above the base of her skull. “May I have this?”
She resisted the urge to yank away her head. “For armbands?”
“Yes.”
She would never deny him such a simple request, and she wasn’t vain enough to try. As attached as she was to her hair, she would shave it off for him. “Go for it.”
He held her head through two quick, yet passionate kisses. Then he carefully severed a hidden curl before unravelling it from the others. “Thank you.”
Following another kiss, he started to turn away, but she grabbed his wrist, her gaze flipping from his hands to his eyes. “If you’ll wait for Bri to finish my hair, I’ll put them on you.”
His pupils dilated as his jaw softened. Then he pulled her knuckles to his lips. “I’d like that. Thank you.”
Only then did Layla realize her breasts heaved over deepening breaths, and it wasn’t until he released her that she noticed the room had fallen quiet as everyone stared at the intimate exchange.
Clearing her throat, Layla sat in front of Brietta, who broke the silence while playing with her hair. “You’re right. There’s no way all this will fit on top of your head.”
“Just do what you can,” Layla returned, summoning her coffee.
Brietta got to work, loosening the tendrils around Layla’s face while gathering the bulk of the curls above the nape of her neck. “I have a confession.”
Layla halted her mug at her lips and raised a wary eyebrow. “What’s that?”
“I’ve wanted to play with your hair since I met you.”
Layla lightly laughed through a sip. “I’m not a fan of letting people touch it.”
Brietta leaned forward with a grin, her gaze on Quin as she whispered. “That depends on the person.”
She returned to her task, and Layla’s cheeks warmed as she shifted her focus to Quin, who’d donned an ecru pair of silk slacks and a sleeveless top. The shirt was made of skintight, amber leather, revealing every muscular groove as he purposefully flexed. Then he waved his hands down his torso, using magic to stiffen the material into a custom cuirass. When he relaxed, the armor retained its strapping shape, right down to the V that framed his lower abdomen, which he covered with a layered, leather belt that hid his waistband and stowed his satchel. Tucking his armbands in his teeth, he summoned a piece of leather shaped like a shell and plated in gold. Then he fitted it over his left shoulder and stretched the straps across his chest and back, buckling them under his right arm. Next, he summoned two leather bracers with gold plating, fastening them around his forearms, and after slipping a gold and agate amulet around his neck, he slid his feet into soft-soled, leather shoes.
Pulling the armbands from his teeth with one hand, he used the other to attach a pair of sheathed daggers to the gold hooks on his belt. Then he tightened the sash while glancing at Drexel. “Sufficient?”
“Yes,” Drexel approved, handing over a cream-colored cloak woven with filaments of gold.
Weylin moved to the terrace and lit up a joint, blowing the smoke into the salty, island breeze. “Do you expect trouble our first day in the city?”
Quin laid his cloak over the back of a chair so he could gather the registration forms. “If I knew what’s to come, we probably wouldn’t be here. Rumors of Layla’s arrival could have already reached unsavory citizens, and if the guild’s pulling the city’s strings, they’re not doing it from thousands of miles away. They’re here. They could be standing inside the gates, waiting to attack us the moment we enter, but it’s probably worse than that. They’ll lurk in the shadows, watching our every move while plotting their own. And that’s being positive. Worst case scenario, they’ve already dug their claws into every corner of the city and all its institutions. In that case, it won’t matter how we dress.”
“We’ve had soldiers in the city for a while,” Drexel countered. “They haven’t felt threatened, but you’re right – there’s a good chance the guild is here, and they love the shadows. It’s wise to be prepared, and it’s necessary for a guardian.”
Layla scanned her coven members, searching for fear and trepidation, of which she found traces, but they were overpowered by hope and determination.
“I’m done,” Brietta announced, positioning a hand mirror so Layla could see her hair.
Using twists and hidden braids, Brietta had managed to pin the curls into a low updo, which she’d crowned with a gold comb that matched the appliqués on Layla’s gown.
Tilting the mirror, Brietta gave Layla a glimpse of the back of the cape. “Look at all the artistic detail we revealed. Will you keep it up?”
Layla bobbed and shook her head, making sure the hairstyle would stay put should conflict arise. Then she smiled at her cousin. “Yes. It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
Brietta’s face and aura brightened as she dove in for a tight hug. “It was my pleasure.” Then she strutted to Kegan while watching her ass in the floor mirror.
Layla stood and turned toward Quin, who’d finished stowing the paperwork and was waiting for her to tie his armbands. He’d already adhered her severed hair to the inside of the straps, so she took the leather and moved to his right bicep. “This is much easier than last time.”
His gaze stayed glued to her, his aura warm to the touch and thick enough to inhale. “Good.”
“What does it do? Is there a magical benefit?”
“Some people think so.”
“Including you?”
“Yes.”
“So it’s a natural effect? Like gemstones?”
“Yes.”
She stifled a smirk while glancing at his shiny eyes. “You think my hair is magical?”
He didn’t even blink before delivering a resolute response. “I do.”
She lightly laughed through a kiss to his shoulder. Then she moved to his left arm, securing the second band while nodding toward the gold-plated shell above it. “What’s that?”
“It’s called a spaulder. It will deflect spells and block projectiles.”
“But it’s only on one shoulder. What will you have on your right arm?”
The corners of his lips twitched with a sexy smile. “An angel.”
“Oh.”
Heat flushed her veins as she curled her hand around the tied leather. Then he turned toward her, closing the chilly gap between them.
“An incredibly beautiful angel,” he whispered, drifting his fingers over restrained curls. “You look like a queen.”
“That’s the point, right?”
“Yes, I suppose it is. Are you ready to play the part?”
She swallowed a sudden lump, her gaze frantically searching his for strength. Then she drew a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “I want to call my babies. Then I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”