Chapter 12 - Nero, It’s Nero

EMMA

My air supply is cut off when the tailor tightens the drawstrings on my back. The piles of fabric fall in heaps on the floor. Camilla said the tailor didn’t have time to come to the palace, so she brought me into the city instead. I’m standing on a pedestal, in front of three, ten-foot-tall, bronze mirrors. Every surface is draped in extravagant fabrics. The walls of the store are lined with long rows of dresses. There hangs a heavy floral scent in the air and it makes me sneeze. The tailor eyes me through the mirror as she stands behind me. I wince when the tailor tightens the dress further and my rib cage threatens to collapse.

The gown is coral red with glitter woven into the fabric. It sparkles in the overhead lighting. The bodice is tight around my curves, but the skirt flows out at the bottom. The tailor circles me without saying a word. She has deep lines in her face and her gray hair is styled in a pristine updo. She's dressed in a dark green pantsuit that fits her perfectly. The suit is simple compared to the makeup she wears. Her bold red lips are turned down in a scowl. And her gaze is harsh with narrowed eyes and thick eyeliner.

I expected the dress to be white, but I quickly learned that this would not be the case. Werewolves apparently don’t have weddings like humans. The prince will have to choose me, and I honestly wonder why he would do that.

Thinking of Prince Hadrian leaves an uneasy feeling in my stomach. I don’t trust him, and the worst thing is, he’s probably right. Making a deal with Princess Morana seems like making a deal with the devil, but I have no choice.

Two assistants are adjusting the length of the dress. There are giggles coming from them as they work on the hem of the dress. My chest burns hot and something tells me they’re talking about me. I can hear whispers so low, but I cannot make out the words. I catch them looking at me through the mirror and more giggles follow. They seem around my age, in their early twenties.

They've not been the only ones who whisper and giggle behind my back. More and more people in the palace send me lingering looks and whisper loud enough for me to hear. They think I cannot hear them, because I’m human. Even Camilla has stopped pretending to be nice, ever since I wandered off to the third floor and she was scolded by the prince this morning.

The quiet giggles turn into full-blown, high-pitched laughter and their lingering looks aren't subtle anymore. Their eyes are filled with ridicule. They’re mocking me.

“Enough, this isn’t working.” The tailor says with a dramatic sigh and excessive arm movement.

“I think it’s pretty,” I tell her. I mean it's the most beautiful piece of clothing I’ve ever worn in my life, and the color reminds me of a late summer sunset.

The tailor looks at me from head to toe and the corners of her mouth turn down in disgust. “Personally, I don’t see it.”

More cackling laughter fills the room and I feel my face burn in embarrassment.

“Just go change. I’ll have to start over.” The tailor says with a flick of her hand and turns to the front of the store. The assistants trot out behind her and I’m alone.

I move to the back of the store where the dressing rooms are. The store is narrow but long. There are mannequins everywhere and it’s kind of eerie to walk here alone. I put on the dress that Camilla gave me this morning. She brought me here thirty minutes ago and left. She probably thought the fitting would take at least a couple of hours or something. I will have to wait until she comes back.

The sound of more laughter reaches the back of the shop and I dread going back there. *Maybe I can find the way back to the palace myself? It didn’t seem like a long way. It was practically a straight road. I could walk it.*

There is a back door and I carefully check if it’s open. The door unlocks with a loud click, but the chatter in front continues.

The sky is dark when I step outside and there is a chill in the air.

*Okay I can do this. We came from the left?*

I turn left and follow the street and past some lavish villas. I ignore the looks that people give me. Gradually the villas change to more regular size houses and I cross a bridge over a canal. I rake my brain because I don’t remember crossing a canal earlier. The streets become more lively as I pass shops and bars. There's soft light coming from the lanterns, illuminating the streets and chatter fills the air. I pass a group of four men drinking beer outside a bar. There's loud music coming from inside.

“Where are you going?” One man with a burly posture and hazelnut eyes asks.

I face the group of men. Maybe they can help me find the way back. “Uhm, the palace?”

I feel myself shrink under their scrutiny as the group of men burst into laughter.

“Aren’t we all?” Another man with too much facial hair asks.

*What did you think, that werewolves were going to help you?*

“You should join us. We can make you feel like a princess.” The first man says again, elbowing another man.

More laughter erupts from the men and a chill runs over my spine. I wrap my arms around myself and turn away from them. I proceed to walk down the street and ignore the calls behind me. The streets get emptier with every block I pass, but I don’t slow my pace. The calls from the men continue as they follow me. I increase my step and I have to lift my dress to prevent tripping again. I start to panic when I turn into another street and they keep following me. I can almost hear my brother’s voice, nagging me for wanting to go out alone.

The city is like a maze with lots of narrow streets. *Maybe I can lose them.* I quickly turn into another street, but this one is darker than the others. There are also no other people around anymore. I want to turn around, but the voices of the men are right behind me. I walk until the street reaches a dead end and my vision is blocked by a ten-foot, brick wall. I place my hands on the cold surface, hoping it will magically disappear or something. The bricks are rough beneath my fingertips and definitely not disappearing.

*No, no, no. This cannot be happening.*

I turn and face the group of men behind me and their eyes flash black. Their sinister smiles show the canines and I don’t think these werewolves will have mercy because of my gray eyes. I can’t hide the tremble in my body.

A loud growl booms off the walls in the alley. The sound is deafening and it vibrates through my stomach. I witness the smiles drop from their faces and be replaced by fear. Whatever just happened has left a group of grown men trembling.

“N-Nero, i-it’s Nero.” One of the men whispers and he falls to the ground.

A shadow casts over the alley, engulfing it in darkness. I can’t see anything anymore and I walk back until my back hits the brick wall. I sink down to the ground when the strength leaves my legs. My eyes adjust to the darkness and I watch how four grown men crawl over the ground and beg for mercy from a seven-foot-tall, black wolf.