Wonder Woman: Warbringer (DC Icons #1)(54)

“Funny how you neglected to mention that Theo Santos is going to be there tonight,” Nim said as she stuffed her mouth full of cheese.

“I didn’t know,” said Alia.

“You should have told me so I could better gauge how much cleavage you wanted to show.”

“First you’d have to find me some.”

“Who’s Theo Santos?” Diana asked, selecting a cluster of grapes from a bowl.

“Jason’s junior sidekick.”

“He’s a family friend,” said Alia.

“Hot in a gangly, not-hot-at-all way.”

“He’s objectively attractive,” Alia protested.

“He’s a complete loser. He spends all his time over here or in some dark room gaming and avoiding actual human contact.”

Alia tossed a carrot at Nim. “Actual human contact is overrated.”

When the dresses arrived, Perez went down to retrieve them with Nim in tow. They returned with two metal racks laden with large dark bags dangling from hangers, which Meyers helped carry upstairs. Diana felt a bit guilty watching them struggle up the steps, but she thought it best to let them manage on their own.

Back in Alia’s room, Nim immediately began unzipping the bags and yanking them off to reveal swaths of shimmering fabric and beading. There were several smaller bags filled with just shoe boxes and sheer wraps.

Alia sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”

Diana nudged her with her elbow. “Armor, remember?”

Alia squared her shoulders and took her pile of dresses into the bathroom. “Those who are about to die salute you.”

“I don’t know why I even bother,” grumbled Nim as they perched on Alia’s bed to wait. “She always picks the most boring thing on the rack, always in basic black. If it’s shaped like a sack, even better.”

“Maybe it feels easier that way, just being invisible instead of always worrying what people think of you.”

Nim’s voice was surprisingly emphatic. “But that’s a choice, too, right? Because people are always going to look. They’re always going to judge, so you can say nothing or you can at least answer back.”

Diana had the sense that Nim wasn’t talking about Alia at all. The tiny girl’s clothes were distinctive, her manner of speech decisive. But her confidence was vibrant and spiky, like a bright flower guarded by thorns.

“What do you think people see when they look at you?”

Nim turned to her. “What do you see?”

“A bold girl. Talented and audacious.”

Nim dropped backward in an exaggerated swoon. “Could you just stay forever?”

“What was that thing you and Alia did?” Diana said, trying to remember. “Bubble, bubble….It was a play on Shakespeare, wasn’t it?”

Nim propped herself up on her elbows. “I know it’s goofy.”

“What does it mean?”

Nim slid off the bed and crossed the room to where a collage of her and Alia was propped on a dresser. She plucked a photo from the frame and held it up: three girls in shredded black robes with pointy hats. “When Alia and I were freshmen, we both got cast as witches in Macbeth along with this Thai kid, Preeda. That’s right, out of the whole school, they cast the three ethnic kids as witches. People would see us in the hall and pretend to shriek and cry. They thought it was hilarious.”

Diana had always regretted not growing up with other children, but that sounded awfully cruel. “What did you do?”

Nim tucked the photo back into the collage. “We just went for it. We cackled and went berserk every night and made sure to always get our lines wrong. Bubble, bubble.”

Diana smiled. “Make some trouble.”

“Come on, Alia!” Nim shouted at the closed bathroom door. “You have to pick one, and we all know it’s going to be the black dress with the long sleeves so you can schoolmarm it up—”

The door opened, and Nim’s jaw dropped.

“She didn’t pick the black one,” Diana observed.

“No shit,” breathed Nim.

Alia wore a dress of shimmering gold scales that moved like light glinting off water—no, like the sun off a warrior’s helm.

“Did you hit your head in Turkey?” Nim said in disbelief.

Alia grinned at Diana and cocked her hip. “Armor.”





They were more than a little late. Nim pinned up half of Alia’s braids in a crown and wove a gold chain through them, then chose a garnet-colored jumpsuit for herself that she paired with terrifyingly high heels. She picked a strapless, midnight-blue gown for Diana. The fabric was of a fine quality, but it felt stiff around the waist and hugged her hips too tightly, as if it had been constructed with little thought to comfort.

“It looks good,” said Alia. “Elegant.”

Diana frowned. “I wish it had another slit up the side.”

“One is classy, two is trashy,” said Nim.

“One is pointless,” replied Diana, wondering what refuse had to do with it. “Two would make it easier to run in.”

“Pretty sure there’s no red-carpet obstacle course,” Alia said as Nim tossed Diana a slim silver bag.

“I’m going to need something larger.”