𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 | 𝐒𝐨𝐂

𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

iv: powerful men and deviant women

The crowd parted in two, a velvet carpet unravelling through the centre of the ballroom floor.

Silk draped from each balcony. The bannisters ringed with flowery garlands. Pink champagne fizzed in tall flutes, and every guest wore white.

"There's no need to be nervous," Genya Safin raked a comb through Natasha's hair for the third time that evening, re-twisting her hair into a shaped bun and wear a tiara that could sit perfectly amidst her curls.

Her silver eyes touched with essence to darken them into something resemblant of a wilted blue.

She had spent all morning, cross-legged on a footstool, as Genya tended to her appearance - restoring her skin to its glowy dark colour.

"Isn't every bride nervous before their wedding?" Natasha asked dully, sipping through a straw to avoid blemishing her painted heart lips.

The lemonade burned the lining of her throat, but it soothed the dull ache of starvation.

Genya sighed, bending down in front of Natasha and rolling up the sleeves of her dress. "Try to find light, my dear," She said, taking two silver bangles from a silk-lined box and holding them beneath the lamp.

They were designs of David - a shock collar worthy of an animal. First had been a prototype to control volcra when the shadow fold still existed.

Now it was an assurance of Natasha's loyalty. If she stepped foot out of the palace, the alarms would explode.

Natasha watched as the bangles were clasped tight around her wrists. "I'm a shadow summoner," She sniffed, tracing her finger around the carvings of the moon cycle. "I am everything that light is afraid of,"

The tailor nodded, her heart aching. She massaged Natasha's shoulder and rubbed a soothing hand down her back in hopes that it could calm Natasha's nerves.

"You look beautiful," Genya smiled over Natasha's shoulders.

"Is this how I looked before?" The Shadow Summoner beamed, pinching at her glowy cheeks. It was the first time she had seen what she might have looked like before parem.

Genya relaxed, grinning besides the girl. "Prettier," She said, taking a chair and sitting beside her. "Your eyes do not shine how they did before. There is no way to tailor hope,"

She took Natasha's hand in hers, clasping them tightly. "I want you to be careful," She said, "Though it might be too late," Natasha turned to Genya, head against her shoulders.

"I want you to be careful of powerful men," A thought touched Genya's mind, and she added rather painfully. "And deviant women,"

"Zoya and Nikolai?" Natasha worded carefully, looking between Genya's pursed face and the bolted door. "They've already taken everything from me,"

Genya brushed a curl over Natasha's eyes - smiling. "That's the spirit, my love,"

She made a low bow before placing an innocent kiss on her cheek. "Moya tsaritsa," Genya grinned, bending again in the mirror and admiring her complexion.

"I must get ready. Do you think you'll be alright if I left you alone until the ceremony,"

Natasha dreadfully wanted her to stay. The tailor was the closest thing she could call a friend at the palace.

However, Natasha peered down at her hands, remembering Omar. "I'll be alright," She said with a wobbling smile. "You go,"

Genya muttered a hurried goodbye, rushing down the corridor to her parlour.