The Grave Shadows

26. Red Dress

Everett closed the door. Without specific instruction, Bill Watts told him to take care of Cyan. A tedious decorum would pace a meal into courses. No TV. No merriment. With etiquette and Bill Watts's glances, eating would be a laborious task.

"Is this your room?" Cyan twirled before the silken black bed. "It's bigger than my whole house. Oh well, if that's the library, this is justified."

"You can shower in there." Everett stretched his arm to show the way.

"You're kidding." Cyan wrinkled her nose. "In your bathroom?"

"Why not?"

"It's yours." She turned away. "There must be hundreds of bathrooms in this palace. I'm not going to go in there and shower in front of you." A gasp escaped her. "I mean..."

The heat spread on Everett's face. "Who says I'll watch?"

"That's not what I meant," Cyan gabbled. "I mean... I wasn't trying to say... What I meant was you're right here, and I shouldn't..."

"Cyan, it's okay. I'm not trying anything, but my brothers can be troublesome. This is the only room they won't invade." Any other room would be pointless, and Everett's was the safest unless Cyan looked under his mattress. "I won't be in here. You can trust me. I'll be back with something for you to wear." Everett knew his limits.

As Everett slipped out of the door, three pairs of reddish eyes fixed on him like red dot sights. He laughed, toying with his brothers' jealousies. For Will, Simon, and Luke, Cyan was a game, something to show off, another girl to conquer, and a goodbye kiss in the next morning. But this wasn't a game anymore, so Everett needed to have a serious talk with his brothers soon.

"You're predictable." Simon tossed a mass of red fabric on Everett's face.

***

That flare dress fitted Cyan as though it had always been hers. Everett caught his chest, staring at the damped hair that fell around her naked shoulders. "You look stunning." He stood on a brim, minding his tone. Cyan easily tensed when Everett complimented her.

"Thank you." Cyan rubbed her arms nevertheless.

"Oh, here, Luke said you might want them." Everett lifted a box of beauty products to his chest.

Although Cyan used a little eyeliner and lip balm, she was beautiful with no enhancement. Usually, shyness blushed her cheeks, and petulance tinted her lips. But Cyan Cooper, from Everett's observation, could be a knight and a goddess at once. She fearlessly stared at death and contentedly floated in an elegant dress like this. Cyan had all the colors but Everett just one.

"Sweet." Cyan settled on the edge of the bed and rummaged in the box. "So, whose dress this is?" she asked passively.

Everett inched to Cyan when she picked and glossed a peach lipstick over her lips.

"My mother's."

Cyan lifted her face, the lipstick falling on the black linen. "Oh, Everett, I shouldn't. It's—"

"It's perfect." Everett edged closer to the bed.

Cyan sprang to her feet, fidgeting a red strap on her shoulder. "This is too weird."

"There're many dresses like this in boxes, Cyan. She had never worn this one, so it's not weird." Everett's palm met the warmth of Cyan's shoulder. "The make-ups, by the way, are all Luke's."

"You're funny." Cyan flinched and flopped on the bed again. "Be serious. Were they hers, too?" She smoothed the red chiffon while the ocean in her eyes rippled.