“Oh, yeah, well, I was planning on putting some on, but I wanted to get this dress to zip up first. I couldn’t reach the zipper, so I tried magic. When that resulted in absolutely nothing, I thought maybe, since you’ve been offering to help me learn how to do other stuff with my powers, that maybe you could show me a way to zip up a dress?” I give him a hopeful look.
He smiles as he steps out of the room. “Absolutely. I can also show you how to use it to do your hair and makeup and stuff.”
“Really?” I ask, and he nods. “Cool. I mean, I’m not really that into makeup and doing my hair, but I think maybe, for what we’re doing, I probably should, right?”
“You don’t have to—you look perfect as you are,” he tells me as he closes the door. “However, this place we’re going to is very glamorous and kind of requires a certain extravagant look, or you might stand out. And, while you are going to be the queen, until we officially get your title and crown and get that connection spell broken, it’s still better if you blend in … Well, as much as you can.”
I crinkle my nose as we start down the hallway. “I thought, because I drank from you, that the whole issue with needing to break that spell would be gone? Darkness isn’t looking for me anymore, right?”
“I wish it were that simple.” He pauses in front of my doorway and, like a gentleman, gestures for me to go in first. “However, until the crown is on your head, darkness will probably continue to look for you. And, even when you get crowned, things will remain complicated.”
I step into my room, and he follows.
“How so?” I ask as he shuts the door.
He turns to face me, reluctance written all over his face. “I don’t want to frighten you.”
“Then don’t keep stuff from me.”
He wavers for a moment before caving. “Risk comes with having an immense amount of power. And then, to add to that, you’ll be a queen, which always comes with complications.”
“Right,” I say, hopefully following what he’s saying. “You mean, I’m going to be at risk for like assassination and being overthrown.”
He reluctantly nods then quickly adds, “We won’t let anything happen to you.” He cups my face between his hands. “I promise you that.”
I nod, but promises have never meant much to me. My dad promised he’d take care of us after my mom died, and that never happened. And my mom promised she’d never leave me, and she did. Yes, I know it wasn’t her fault, but it made me slowly start to learn something—the only promises you can trust are your own. So, if I want to be protected, I’ll have to learn how to take care of myself.
“Can you help me learn how to become as powerful as possible?” I ask him. “So I can protect myself, as well.”
He gives a nod. “I can, and let’s start with zipping up this dress.” He smiles, and I smile back.
It’s super weird—to be smiling, I mean, shouldn’t I be freaking out more? It seems like I should. I know I should. Yet, I feel calmer than I have in a really long time.
“Go over and stand in front of the mirror,” he instructs, motioning toward the mirror on the armoire.
I do as he instructs, gathering the dress and positioning myself in front of the mirror.
“What’s with the mirror?” I ask as he comes and stands behind me.
“It’ll be easier for you to be able to tell what you’re doing if you can see yourself,” he explains, sweeping some of my hair to the side. “It’s how they teach reapers to use their powers when we’re younger.”
“How do you get taught? Did you go to school?”
“An academy. All reapers go there, and while a lot of them hated going, I personally like the break from being at the orphanage.”
“Oh.” I grow quiet as he stares off into space, his eyes so haunted and sad. “I’m sorry I brought it up, Jax.”
He blinks, his gaze finding mine in the mirror. “You’re absolutely fine. You’re allowed to ask me whatever you want, pretty reaper.” He lightly brushes his fingers along my jawline. “Now, how about I show you how to zip up this dress?”
I nod, still feeling awful. I make a mental note to tread with caution about bringing up the orphanage with him.
“So, the thing about a reaper’s power,” he begins, “is that it’s more about confidence than anything else. So the more mentally stronger you are, the stronger your power is.”
I frown. “How can I have confidence if I just learned that I have them?”
“It’ll come with time.” He sweeps my hair over my shoulder again.
I’m not sure why he keeps doing that. If it’s just a subconscious thing or if he likes touching my hair?
“Practice makes perfect, I guess,” I say, feeling a drop of doubt that I’ll ever become this powerful reaper who can protect herself.
I want to, but I feel so far behind and out of my element. It’s a new feeling for me that I’m not a fan of at all.
“Exactly.” He gives a short pause. “Can I put my hands on your waist?”
“Um … Sure?”
“It’s just so that I can help you steady yourself,” he explains as he settles his hands on my waist.
“I didn’t really think it was weird that you were going to do it,” I tell him, “I thought it was odd you asked.”
“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“I’m not.”
“Good.” He looks down, and I detect a trace of a smile playing at his lips.
Out of all the reapers, I feel like I know him the least. While I don’t know what this means about me—about how I’m feeling about him or any of his brothers—I find myself wanting to know more about him.
“So, you’re an artist?” I ask, drawing his gaze back to mine in the mirror.
He wavers, tracing circles against my waist with the pads of his thumbs. “I wouldn’t go as far as calling myself an artist. I do love to draw, paint, and sculpt, though.”
“That sounds suspiciously like you’re an artist,” I tease with a grin.
He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “I’ve never had any of my work put into a museum or been talked about in history classes, so no, I don’t think I am.”
“I don’t really think that means you’re not. Just because someone becomes famous with their art doesn’t mean they’re more of an artist than any other person out there. It just means they have more success. And that doesn’t make them any better. Take music, for example. Some of the best music I’ve ever heard has been from bands that have had hardly any popularity. And honestly, a lot of times, I don’t really like the more popular stuff out there. I think it’s all about uniqueness, you know? The more unique something is, the less relatable it is to the majority of the population, which means it is less likely to become popular. But it doesn’t mean the music is bad. Hell, I think it takes a lot more creativity to be unique.”
When he blinks at me, I realize I just went on a rant, one I had with Bailey, who wants to be a musician but worries about being too different to be successful.