Two hours, three sets of hot rollers, a half bottle of bronzer (along with a thousand other beautification devices I couldn’t name) later, Annabelle released me from the make-shift, makeover spa of the woman’s lounge adjoining my bedroom. She led me to the full-length mirrors, looking like the proud parent of a certified genius.
“Tada!” she trumpeted, stopping me in front of the mirror and dropping her guiding hand from me.
When I saw the reflection before me, I wrinkled my brow in speculation and reached a hesitant hand out to the woman standing statuesquely in front of me. When I saw the woman before me reach her hand out in the same manner, and her mouth drop open as I could feel mine mimicking, I convinced myself that the figure before me, was in fact . . . me.
Annabelle had worked a miracle on the plainness that was my genetic betrayal. My skin was as luminescent as the moon, my lips sparkled in a deep red pout, and my hair flowed down my back in a cascading river of waves. Despite my earlier disdain at the gown being from John, I fell in love with it immediately. It cinched to my body as if hand-tailored.
“You’re a magician, Annabelle,” I whispered in bewilderment.
She stood in front of me and admired her handiwork. She giggled with delight at my compliment. “You’ve got a lot of raw material to work with. It’s not difficult to improve upon gorgeous.”
I controlled the urge to roll my eyes at her consoling response. Not only was she a magician, but extremely generous.
Her face became serious. “I’ve got to get ready, too.” She spun around and headed back into the women’s lounge where her gown awaited her. “I’ll be back in a jiffy,” she called out before the lounge door slammed shut behind her.
I wandered out to the balcony, needing to collect every ounce of courage I could. The sun was already starting its deep fall into the dark edge of the earth, twilight encroaching on the vineyard. I closed my eyes and took in one deep breath, holding it in my lungs while I dreamed of seeing William soon, and having only one more night to spend in this lonely room. Composed and satisfied, I released the seized breath, and turned to leave the familiarity of the balcony.
Something caught my eye resting on the stone railing. Despite the constricting dress, I rushed over to it, already knowing who it was from. The simple pewter box had a tarnished heart carved into its surface, and a warm sensation ran through me when I picked it up.
I looked to the next balcony down, hoping I would see him, or that he’d come and see me . . . just one last embrace before I had to say my unemotional goodbye to him tonight. I knew he wouldn’t risk it though, not with all the extra Immortal eyes around the Manor tonight.
This was his goodbye—like me, he didn’t want to have nothing other than a couple of casual words to get us through the long month ahead. I wished I had something to leave him with as well . . . I’d just have to make our dance extra special since I had no other gift to leave behind.
I slid aside the silver clasp and opened the box. My heart somehow managed to stop at the same time it felt it was going to burst. Resting on a pillow of ivory silk was a large, tear-shaped, sapphire pendant strung on a long, silver, rope chain. Despite the absent sun—like William—it still managed to sparkle in the darkness.
I grabbed the folded note resting beneath it.
A symbol of my promise to you.