“Is that old trout still alive?”

“Of course she is. People as terrifying as her don’t just fade away,” Nuala said. “It’s the exact color of your eyes, Kett. I had to have something for you or your father from it.”

“Then why didn’t you make something for him?”

“I did. He has a shirt of the same material,” Nuala said happily.

“Tell me he’s not wearing it tonight,” Kett groaned. “If we matched it’d be revolting.”

Nuala’s eyes lit up. “Then you will wear it?”

Kett winced. “Bollocks.”

“Oh Kett!” Nuala actually danced on the spot, beaming with delight. She rushed over to adjust the dress, which was giving Kett some trouble. She’d gotten the skirt settled around her hips but there didn’t seem to be much of the top half.

“Here,” Nuala said, taking the two pieces of silver silk and drawing them up Kett’s body, over her breasts, and fastening them behind her neck. The arrangement left her back totally bare, and a good deal of her front too. The two wide strips of silk were attached only to the skirt, not to each other, and when she moved they revealed not only a lot of Kett’s cleavage, but a strip of her stomach, right down to her bellybutton.

“Kett, you look wonderful!”

Kett regarded herself dubiously in the mirror. Apart from her exposed bellybutton, she had the feeling if she moved too much the silk would slip away at the front or the sides and show everyone her breasts.

“Doesn’t the skirt hang beautifully? I told Madame D. knife-pleats and the narrowest of waistbands. She wasn’t happy, it’s quite fiddly, but of course it wasn’t her doing the sewing, it was one of her minions…”

Knife-pleats, were they? The folds of the skirt floated like rays of moonlight, billowing around her ankles with every movement. The silk caressed Kett’s bare legs, which was a strange sensation. And not an unpleasant one.

“Now, shoes…” Nuala said, and Kett snapped to attention.

“I’ll sort them out,” she said, and Nuala, who was holding a pair of tiny, strappy things that looked like they belonged in a rather specialized torture chamber, looked crestfallen.

“But they match the dress perfectly-”

“And I’ll go A over T within about five seconds,” Kett said.

“Nonsense, I know you’re perfectly graceful-”

“And I can’t wear heels, not with my leg,” Kett said in a sudden flash of inspiration. She gave a slight limp for emphasis and Nuala’s face really fell.

“Oh…no…I suppose not. Oh it’s such a shame!”

“Yeah,” Kett said, turning away. “I’ll-”

“Oh my gosh!”

Kett winced, wondering what it was now. And how the hell her stepmother could have remained married to Tyrnan of Emreland for twenty years and still have uttered something as sweet and childish as “gosh” when she was excited.

“What?”

“Kett, your back!”

Kett flinched. Ah. Yes. That was the other thing about being a shapeshifter. Covering up surface imperfections was a cinch. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of all the scars she carried, but it did cut out a lot of questions when she concealed them.

“You’ve seen it before,” she said.

“Yes, but…” Nuala was shaking her head in disbelief. “I’d forgotten. Does…does it still hurt?”

Kett shrugged. “Nah. In fact, lumps of it are numb. Scar tissue.”

“Goodness,” Nuala murmured faintly.

“Goodness,” Kett said, “had bugger all to do with it.”

“It’s as well you can cover them up,” Nuala said, and there was a sticky sort of silence.

“Yeah. Funny story,” Kett said.

Nuala looked almost fearful. “What?”

Kett debated how much to tell her, then figured, what with the ball and the servants having the day off and the outside caterers and wasting this much time with this stupid dress anyway, Nuala really didn’t need another thing to worry about.

“I…uh. Um. Can’t change at the moment. It’s a…uh…shapeshifter thing. Because I was…feeling a bit ill recently. I’m fine now,” she reassured her stepmother. “Five by five.”

“Well…perhaps you ought to wear something else,” Nuala said, chewing her lip. “I’m sure Chalia…or maybe Chance…”

She looked so disappointed. Kett had kicked the puppy.

“No,” Kett said, looking over her shoulder at the way the dress highlighted the ugly, knotted lines crisscrossing her back. “You know what, no. These are my damn scars and I ain’t ashamed of them, and besides, look at me. It’s not like I’m gonna fit in with the rest of the crowd anyway.”

Nuala blinked. “You’ll wear it?”

“I’ll wear it. But not the shoes,” she added quickly.

Nuala looked at them, sad for a moment, and nodded. “Well, I did think they might be pushing it,” she said. “Would you like to borrow some makeup?”

Kett stared at her. Another shapeshifter advantage-or maybe it was a disadvantage now-was that she could alter her features without cosmetics. “Wouldn’t know what to do with it,” she said.

“Beyla and Eithne would absolutely love to-”

“No,” Kett said, a little more forcefully than she’d intended. “No. Thanks. I’m fine.”

Of course Nuala couldn’t possibly leave it at that, and eventually Kett gave in and allowed her stepmother to dab some goop at her face, do something fancy with her hair and try to persuade her to wear some jewelry.

“Didn’t we talk about pushing it?” she snapped eventually.

Nuala raised her hands in defeat. “All right,” she said, and for some reason she was smiling. She backed away. “I’ll see you downstairs. People are already arriving.”

Kett stared at her. “You haven’t even changed yet!”

“I can be remarkably quick.”

“And your maid-”

“Laid everything out for me before she went. Your father will help me.”

Kett’s mind boggled at the thought of her dissolute father helping to put a woman’s clothes on. “But the guests-”

“Your sisters are taking care of them. They have done so the last few years.” Nuala grinned. “Despite what your father thinks, they’re quite grown-up now.” She gave Kett one last look, glanced wistfully at the silver shoes and smiled. “You look lovely.”

“I’ve never looked lovely in my life,” Kett grumped.

“Well, you do now.” Nuala stood up on tiptoe and kissed Kett’s cheek. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

Kett stared after her, stunned. No one had ever kissed her cheek. Not her sisters, not her father, not any friends and certainly not any lovers.

Great gods in heaven, she put on a dress and people started treating her like a…like a lady or something.

She’d have to put the balance right.

Walking with all this silk billowing around her was kind of annoying. But at the same time, it did feel nice against her skin. Kett made a face as she stomped down the corridor. Any minute now she was going to start wearing things with bows.

One of the elegant dogs that usually followed her sisters around trotted toward her and she halted it, checking the tag on its collar.

“Kett II,” she read. They’d started calling their pets Kett years ago, after Kett had changed her shape to match that of Eithne’s pony in an ill-conceived attempt to impress her infant siblings. Since then, there’d always been at least one pet named after her. “You poor sod,” she told the dog, who gave her the sort of big-eyed, mournful look only dogs can and slunk away.

There was music coming from the ballroom at the rear of the house and people spilling out into the lobby. Last night the servants had put up huge wreaths of yew and vitalweed, and the semi-sentient flowers swayed gently to the music. Huge candles and gas lamps were everywhere, making the lobby and everyone within it glow beautifully with a sort of kaleidoscope of color-

Kett peered closer. Bobbing around the living flower arrangements were an assortment of faeries, their bright auras glowing, making little rainbows as they danced. It figured that her stepmother had actually invited the little buggers. She probably had faery-sized food and drink laid out for them.