The Glass Man - Lila Gray Book 1

Chapter Seventeen

"You have got to be kidding me." I stood in front of a full-length mirror in Parthalan's dressing room. "I don't do dresses or silk or beads, and this monstrosity has all of that crap on it." At least it covered all my bits and pieces. After Rourke's 'outrageously slutty' comment, I'd been worried.

Black, thigh-high hose hugged my legs, finished off with black heels. The black silk dress seemed to hover over my skin, like a whisper of air, and barely covered the garters holding up the hose. Tiny glass beads gave the plunging neckline a shimmer. Pretty, in a goth princess sort of way, but way too girly for me.

"D'yeh think it's too much?" Willa asked as she continued to primp my hair. Half lay in a lattice-work of braids, and the rest hung down my back in bouncing, golden curls.

Althea paused from her chore of returning the rest of the rejected items to the endless racks of clothing along the far wall. She put her hands on her hips. "We've covered her 'bout as much as he'd allow. Knowin' him, he'd have her goin' in naught but the black knickers."

"Over my dead body." I rolled my eyes.

I'd never seen such a large room devoted to dressing. Parthalan's clothes hung in a mammoth closet through a door next to the vanity table. Mounds of makeup and hair accessories covered the marble surface of the vanity, and some had fallen down to the floor, spraying pink powder half way across the blue tile.

A soft barking laugh drew my gaze away from the mirror.

"Oh, hell, what are you doing here?" I gritted my teeth and looked for something to cover myself with, but found nothing but my own hands. "Did you come to gloat, you lousy slime?"

Rourke watched me from the doorway, but there was something wrong about him. Something different in his eyes, something softer. Was it pride? No. He chuckled again, a different sound than his normal barking laugh. "Do you always talk to Rourke like that?" he asked.

The two selkies sniggered behind me.

I squinted and stepped closer to him. The clothes were different: black pants, a black button-down shirt, and a fancy, red cloak with golden embroidery slung over his shoulders. His hair had been neatly arranged and secured with a red ribbon tied into a bow.

"Why are you talking about yourself in third person?" I searched for what I'd missed, and what the girls found so funny, but I found nothing obvious.

A shimmer filled the air around Rourke. The ribbon disappeared, and his locks retreated toward his head into a shorter style with lighter brown curls. His eyes changed only a little, swirls of yellow appearing instead of the silver. A goatee sprouted on his chin, his shoulders broadened, and he grew taller by a foot.

I picked my chin off the floor, slowly realizing the man before me was Donovan, the one standing in the tower with Garret earlier tonight. "How did you do that?"

"It's my cumhacht." His amused face relaxed. "I can create illusions that go beyond normal fae glamour. I didn't change, only your perception of me did."

One corner of my mouth lifted as I tried to process what I was seeing. What a gift, to be able to transform into anyone or anything instead of only changing my hair and skin color. I wasn't sure what I'd make myself into if I could. A fire breathing dragon, maybe, so I could toast Parthalan to a crisp. "Wait, where's the real Rourke?"

He flashed a satisfied smile. "I made him think I was you and lured him down to the cell block for a little slap and tickle. He's probably still shackled to the wall, waiting for you to put on something more...enticing. If he'd seen you in that dress, he'd probably have died of a heart attack."