Chapter 26 Quinn #2
I huffed a small laugh. “A sensible precaution,” I said lightly. “Though Mav seems precisely the sort who would trifle regardless.”
Thistle snorted, her eyes crinkling as she smiled. “That one? He’d charm a thunderstorm to see if it’d blush.”
Vesper arched his back in a lazy stretch. “And then act surprised when he’s struck by lightning.”
The clerk returned from the storeroom, his white-gloved hands folded together. “Unfortunately, madames, we do not have any pink options remaining. Perhaps I can interest you in something else?”
Keeping my gaze fixed on the gowns glittering behind him, I willed myself not to look at the scar upon his cheek, to force my breath steady.
Even without an armband or brand, I bore my own mark—unseen, but no less damning.
Yet standing there among the silks and sequins, a sense of resolve solidified within me.
If the ungifted could wear their suffering for the world to see, I could bear mine with equal courage.
I refused to give the king and his court the satisfaction of my fear.
If I were to walk into the Spring Jubilee to face a monarch driven by control through cruelty, I would do so as myself.
“Yes,” I said at last, lifting my chin. “Do you have anything with stars?”
His eyes darted left in thought. “Actually, I have several lovely options. Did you have a color in mind, madame?”
“A hue reminiscent of dusk,” I said. My lips curved in a defiant grin. “Or...twilight.”
Thistle, Vesper, and I waited on a curved bench outside the tailor’s, parcels barricaded between. Through the windows, it appeared Branrir was being coaxed into gold embroidery. Mav glared as though he might threaten the tailor to a duel at any moment.
Aurillion flowed past—parasols, paper-wrapped bouquets, children streaming purple ribbons, a street performer plucking a lullaby. It should have soothed.
Instead, I felt the continuous eyes of the city’s inhabitants.
Two women paused and whispered behind gloved hands.
A man in a pale waistcoat walked by, staring unabashedly.
A boy pointed outright before his nursemaid tugged him along.
I glanced down. My appearance offered no offense.
Still, the glances and gossip continued.
Vesper hissed—a true hiss—at a noble who lingered. “She’s not on display. Keep walking!”
Startled, the man moved on. Heat climbed my cheeks. I forced a breath.
“Does this happen often?” Thistle asked.
“No,” I said. “I fail to see why I am of such interest.”
When I was barefoot and in a decaying dress, the stares had made sense. This was different, as though they recognized me, or knew something I did not. My fingers gripped my skirts.
Thistle’s tone stayed easy. “You want me to trip the next one?”
“I shall advise you,” I said with a grin.
We found an inn tucked near the castle square, white stone dressed in ivy, window boxes spilling cheerful flowers.
In the lobby, a hush descended—the expensive kind, achieved by carpets and soft shoes and the discipline of voices kept low.
To the right, a sweeping staircase curved toward the upper levels.
A heady floral scent hung in the air, accompanied by the subdued pluck of a harp.
“I’ll see what’s available,” Thistle declared as she ambled to the counter and thumped her packages onto it, startling the innkeeper.
Branrir murmured something about assisting her and joined Thistle at the counter. Several minutes later, they returned.
Thistle pressed a key into Mav’s palm. “We don’t have much time before the event starts. Get dressed and we’ll meet back here within the hour.”
Mav appeared at my shoulder. “We’re sharing again,” he said softly.
I arched a brow. “Are we?”
He shifted the parcels in his arms—mine, of course—and affected nonchalance. “Tether’s fickle.”
“Mm,” I said. “We would not want you magically maimed in your sleep.”
His mouth twitched. He said nothing else as we climbed the curved staircase. Our room waited near the middle of the hall, double doors etched with gold and the inevitable lion. He opened the doors and ushered me through.
My eyes widened as my lips parted. The chamber was stunning.
Ornate floral wallpaper stretched between tall windows veiled in sheer curtains. A hearth shaped to resemble a lion’s mouth stood proud in the corner. At the center, a generous bed rested below a canopy.
Mav set the parcels by the towering ivory wardrobe.
“Thank you,” I said, shrugging free of my cloak. I wandered through the space, discovering the largest washroom I had ever encountered, with a tub befitting the grandeur of the rest of the space. “If it would not offend you, I would like to bathe before dressing.”
He arched a brow, lips twitching. “The day I’m offended by you being in any state of undress will be the day I’ve gone mad.”
A betraying warmth bloomed beneath my skin, spiraling from my chest to my cheeks.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling, but it was hopeless.
I was certain he knew exactly what effect his words had on me and enjoyed every second of it.
I moved the boxes of today’s purchases into the palatial washroom and closed the door.
After I quickly bathed, I lifted the lid off the dress shop box.
Silk pooled in my hands, the shade between indigo and plum.
Silver embroidery sparkled along the hem in constellations.
It was fitted at the waist with a soft, layered skirt that danced with each movement.
The sleeves hung off the shoulder, sheer, flowing, and dusted with beadwork.
I drew the gown over my hips, smoothed the bodice, and settled the sleeves.
Pulling my delicate, silver mask from another package, I placed it on the vanity table.
Unsure of what to do with my hair, I pinned back a few of the front sections in twists and let the rest of it remain free to tumble down my back.
On the other side of the door, cloth rustled. A soft sigh.
“I’m ready when you are,” Mav said.
After slipping on my gloves, I regarded my reflection one last time and stepped into the room. Mav sat at the edge of the bed, hands resting on his knees. When his attention moved to me, his mouth fell open.