Chapter 7

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I don't see Syfi or Celeste again until an hour before the party, when the sun is just beginning to set

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I don't see Syfi or Celeste again until an hour before the party, when the sun is just beginning to set. Heaps of fruit are brought to me twice throughout the day by an unfamiliar fairy, who stutters in my presence when I try to speak to her.

I spend the day in the flowery bedroom by myself, pacing or biting my nails or trying to wake myself from this nightmare.

Needless to say, it doesn't work.

The women barge into my room without so much as a knock, startling me out of a trance I'd fallen into while staring out at the sunset. Several birds flew by a few moments before, and I found myself wishing I could fly away with them.

"Close your eyes," Celeste commands. I do as she says. My torn up, damaged dress is pulled off and replaced by a heavier, scratchier one. I open my eyes, curious to see what Syfi has come up with, but Celeste snaps at me and I shut them again. The fairy fusses around me for a few more seconds. "Okay. Open them."

Celeste holds the seashell mirror in front of my face, tilting it down a bit so I can see the dress.

My breath catches in my throat.

I'm wearing fire.

No, it isn't fire. The fabric is made of red, yellow, and purple thread stitched together into a blazing pattern. The dress starts off dark on the bits that sweep the floor and grows lighter and brighter as it works its way up, resembling the flame of a candle. I look closer and notice that hundreds of tiny red and yellow leaves have been sewn into the dress. I chuckle to myself. Celeste was behind that, I'm sure.

"This is..." I pause, turning to the side to admire the dress from a different angle. I don't complete my sentence, but I think they understand anyway.

"I believe it's Syfi's best work yet," Celeste boasts. Syfi blushes, the focus of her gaze slightly to the right of her partner. I can tell by her expression that she wishes she could see her work for herself. I feel a pang of sadness for her.

When I finish admiring the dress, Celeste sets the mirror back down on the table and starts fiddling with my hair. As she starts braiding, I notice that neither girl has prepared for the party themselves.

"Where are your beautiful fairytale gowns?" I ask, gritting my teeth when Celeste pulls too hard on my hair.

"Don't worry about us," the fairy says. "We'll be ready in no time at all. You, on the other hand, have to look extra special."

I sigh and sit quietly so Celeste can finish my hair, biting my tongue when she's too rough to stop myself from whining.

"So, when are you going to tell her about Alec?" Syfi asks, her voice too innocent. A hint of mischief that I'm used to seeing in Celeste's eyes twinkles in Syfi's. Celeste's hands stop moving.

Legend of the White Witch {#Wattys2016}Where stories live. Discover now