Chapter 11 #2
The courtesan glances from the dresses to me and back again. “I think they should all fit well. The lacing gives some flexibility. As does…”
He reaches down and tugs at the skirts of the dresses, and my heart leaps eagerly. The folds of fabric overlap enough that you wouldn’t notice unless they’re yanked, but there’s a slit on either side, all the way up to my thighs.
When I take a step closer to confirm the others have it too, Casimir outright beams. “I figured you’d want easier access to your assorted weaponry.” His smile fades a moment later. “Especially considering what happened to Julita.”
I expect he’s a lot more concerned with preserving what’s left of the woman he adored than my personal wellbeing, but I’ll take it. “Thank you. Where did you even find these?”
“They’re not actually uncommon, even if they aren’t normally used for concealing blades.
They make it easier for riding astride. They each have a matching divided underskirt—like flowy trousers—that’ll cover your legs to your calves, but you can fix the weapons over that.
I found designs with subtle pockets as well. ”
Riding dresses. I should have thought of that.
Even better, because then it won’t matter if anyone does notice the slits.
“Thank you,” I murmur, fingering the sleeve of the turquoise dress. “If I’ve got to be in a gown, this is the kind I want.”
Casimir will be very good at his intended job if he can judge a woman’s preferences this well in every area.
I really should not be thinking about any other areas he might put his skills to. Even if he’s possibly the most beautiful man I’ve ever set eyes on. And the way he moves that sinewy body of his—
Mind out of the gutter, Ivy.
“Excellent,” Casimir says. “I’ll make sure Stavros puts in a request to have some finer underclothes sent up too. A lot of the women in this place might judge based on surface appearances, but they’ll judge every layer of that surface if they can.” His smile turns a bit sly.
I can’t restrain a snort. “I don’t doubt it.”
Perceptive, clever, and a solid sense of humor. I guess he mustn’t want for patrons.
But the comment about having Stavros handle the rest reminds me of something Julita told me. A prickle of concern passes through my gut. “Should you have come up here at all? I thought—Julita told me that the five of you act like you barely know each other in public.”
Casimir shrugs, showing no sign of fear himself. “I’m reasonably well-known in the companionship division. It wouldn’t be unusual for him to have asked my help outfitting his new assistant. Nothing any tongues would wag about.”
I let out a light chuckle. “Totally professional.” My head is already starting to ache taking in all the internal politics of this place.
He’s right, Julita offers. It should be safe enough. Just don’t approach any of the others around campus as if you know them at all well—except for Stavros, of course.
Naturally. Gods above, why couldn’t I have become Casimir’s assistant?
I mean, other than the fact that my “companionship” skills are about the direct inverse of my combat skills in effectiveness.
Casimir takes a step back as if he’s going to go, but his gaze settles on my right hand. He lifts his chin toward it. “You have a gift. Is it anything that might be useful?”
I instinctively swipe my thumb over the stump where my pointer finger is missing its tip. The long-healed injury does look like it must have been a dedication ceremony sacrifice.
It was actually punishment for infringing a little too obviously on some asshole crime lord’s territory when I was fourteen and getting a bit cocky. He’d have done a lot worse if there’d been much more than a few coins at stake.
It’s easiest to go along with the misconception. It gives me the pretense of having dedicated myself at all.
“Probably a little,” I say. “It helps me move quietly.” Might as well pick a skill I already have in a totally non-magical way. I arch my eyebrows. “That’s me, the sneaky thief all the way through.”
I’m mocking Stavros and his barbed accusations, but Casimir’s expression turns almost sad. “I’d imagine you’re a lot more than that, Ivy. When I look at you and think of everything you’ve already risked to be here, I don’t see sneakiness or deceit. I see kindness.”
For the second time in this place, I find myself momentarily speechless. Casimir smoothly fills in the silence. “I’d better get going, since this is supposedly business and not a social call. I’m looking forward to hearing what you’re able to discover when we meet in the archives next.”
He pauses, and something in his gaze turns a bit more distant, as if he isn’t really looking at me.
Because he’s not.
“Of course you’d find a way to stick with us no matter what, Jules,” he adds for the woman inside me, his voice gone a bit rough. “We’ll see this through.”
Then he slips out as swiftly as he arrived.
Dear, sweet man, Julita says in a droll tone that doesn’t hold much admiration for the descriptors.
My hackles rise in unexpected defensiveness. I inhale slowly before letting myself respond.
“He obviously cared about you a lot. They all did.”
She lets out a coy little chuckle. I wasn’t going to trust them to have my back while we took on a conspiracy of scourge sorcerers otherwise.
The way she phrases it, as if their caring was part of her strategy rather than a natural development, niggles at me. But it’s really none of my business how she handled her affairs.
I shift the dresses over to one end of the sofa and sit down. To my annoyance, I can’t deny that the velvet cushions are about ten times as comfortable as my “bed” back in the cloth factory.
I won’t exactly be hard done by even sleeping like an afterthought in the royal college.
I get up again, planning to make a thorough survey of the room while I’m alone. But my solitude only lasts long enough for me to confirm that, yes, most of the etched bottles in the liquor cabinet would have cost more than the people of the fringes make in an average month.
I’m just ambling back to the desk and its surrounding bookcases when Stavros strides into his quarters.
He takes in me and the dresses draped on the sofa in a quick glance. I leap to explain. “Casimir came by. He knew I’d need to blend in outside of the job too.”
“Hmm,” Stavros says, as if he isn’t quite convinced that I didn’t manage to steal three dresses in the short while he was gone. He drops his own bundle—this of linen, leather, and a clink that tells me there’s chainmail in the mix—onto the cushions next to the gowns. “You’re all set then.”
I decide to let Casimir broach the topic of undergarments as promised. The former general has spent enough time thinking about my intimate apparel today.
He fishes in his pocket and draws out a bracelet a lot like Julita’s, only plain gold without any gemstones. “This will give you your own access to the front gate and these chambers. I thought it’d be best if you weren’t going around flashing Julita’s.”
“Good point.” I take off Julita’s bracelet to replace it with the new one and then pause, not sure where to put it.
Stavros eyes it for a moment. “What does she want done with it?”
I raise a questioning eyebrow, but Julita’s presence is already stirring. It’s just a little scrap of gold. I suppose we should hold on to it in case we need it as evidence of some kind. Stavros should be able to keep it secure.
I hold the delicate chain out to him. “She’d like you to put it someplace safe in case we need it later.”
“Always thinking ahead,” he says with a note of wry affection.
As he takes the bracelet from me, he motions to the two inner doors. “Keep out of my bedroom. We can share the latrine. If you want a bath, there’s a public room and a few private ones down the hall to your right.”
Of course. The elite of the central ward all have running water right into their homes, while the folk of the fringes make do with wells, chamber pots, and outhouses.
It’s hard to complain about that while I’m benefitting from the luxury, though.
I prop myself on the arm of the sofa. “So, what’s next? How do I get started on this grand quest I’ve stumbled into?”
Stavros aims a mild glower at me. “I’ve still got my staff meeting to attend. You can join me for my afternoon lessons and then spend some time getting to know the school. I’m sure a woman of your many talents can figure out the rest?”
I shrug. “Talk, listen, determine who the scourge sorcerers are. Fairly straight-forward.”
He guffaws. “Don’t we wish it were so. The wretches have proven awfully good at covering their tracks.”
I pause before picking up the thread he’s unknowingly offered me. “I guess this is your thing, isn’t it? Tackling evil sorcerers. I saw you before, a couple of years ago, at the execution of the riven sorcerer you apprehended.”
Stavros’s voice turns even drier. “Yes, it seems my true calling is to triumph against degenerate magic.”
I let my gaze wander across the room as if his response to my next remark doesn’t matter all that much to me. “Scourge sorcerers have got to be worse. At least the riven don’t pursue their power; it just happens.”
Even from the corner of my eye, I catch the stiffening of Stavros’s muscular frame. “It just happens, and then they drag the world into their madness with it. None of them are worth the dirt on their hides.”
At his vehemence, my gaze jerks back to him. “You take their existence pretty personally, it sounds like.”
He gives me a tight smile, anger smoldering in his eyes. I have the impression he isn’t seeing me at all in that moment. “A riven sorcerer butchered my best friend. I’ll be satisfied when all of them as well as anyone who’d dabble in scourge magic are wiped right off the face of the continent.”
Without another word, he heads out the door, with a thud of it shutting hard in his wake.
As I stare after him, Julita’s voice mingles with my thoughts. He isn’t angry at you. It’s only a bit of a sore spot for him.
Yeah. A sore spot that also is me.
I swallow thickly. I’ve walked straight into even more danger than I bargained for.