Chapter 18 – COSIMA
COSIMA
The streets of Surhiira are so fucking clean you could lick them. And I'd consider it long before I willingly ate anything from Geo's club.
We're drawing stares everywhere we go, and I know it's not just because we're a mismatched pack of outsiders trying to blend in with the elite and posh tourists that have been let in.
It's because of Knight. Even with the tactical jacket and the heavy scarf wrapped around his lower face, even with that intricately crafted silver mask that could pass for Surhiiran artistry, he's still at least eight feet of violence stalking through their pristine streets.
Not many white-haired alphas—or omegas—around here, either.
At least Surhiirans' default response to obvious outsiders ranges from curiosity to concern rather than outright hostility like in Reinmich. So far, we haven't run into any trouble.
The palace will be its own test.
A woman clutching a basket of those spiky pink fruits I've grown fond of does a double take as we pass.
Her eyes go wide, darting between Knight and the rest of us, then hurries across the street as if we might eat her children.
To be fair, Knight does eat people, but he has a taste for rowdy alphas, not innocent civilians.
"Maybe we should have left him at the inn," Nikolai mutters under his breath, adjusting the red-tinted glasses he stole back from Geo.
"We're pack. Where we go, he goes," I say firmly. Besides, if we left him at the inn, the chances there would still be an inn are slim to none.
Knight's hand brushes against my shoulder, a gentle touch that's become his way of asking if I'm okay. I pat his arm reassuringly. He's trying to make himself smaller, slouching and keeping his head down.
It's like watching a dragon try to pretend it's a house cat.
"There," Raven says, pointing to a shop with an elaborate window display of flowing silks and embroidered robes. "That should have everything we need."
The shop front is all carved white stone and gleaming glass, with mannequins draped in fabrics so fine they seem to float. It screams expensive in a way that makes my mouth water.
The one good thing about being an upper-crust omega in Reinmich was the shopping, and it's been ages since I indulged in a little retail therapy. But we need to look the part if we're going to waltz into the palace like we belong there.
Days-old train station clothes are not the look.
"We all need to find something that helps us blend in as tourists," I announce, turning to face my ragtag pack. "Especially you two." I point two fingers at Nikolai and Geo.
They both bristle in offense.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Geo growls, his eye narrowing.
"Yeah, what's wrong with how we look?" Nikolai adds, for once agreeing with Geo. Not sure I like them being on the same page.
I take a moment to look at them pointedly. "Geo looks like he's one sip away from a barfight or shaking someone down for protection money," I say bluntly. "And you…" I wrinkle my nose. "Let's just say it turns out that tacky red goth coat was actually holding things together."
"What the fuck?" Nikolai protests. "Raven's the one who picked this shit out!" He gestures angrily at his outfit.
I ignore his bitching, striding toward the shop entrance where Raven is already holding the door open with a flourish that would make any royal courtier jealous.
"After you, goddess," he purrs, and I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes at his theatrics. Even if they're growing on me.
The shop interior is even more impressive than the window display suggested. Bolts of silk in every color imaginable line the walls, and the air smells like expensive perfume and luxury. A beta woman in flowing white robes glides toward us, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of customers.
"Welcome, travelers!" she chirps in accented but perfect Vrissian. Yep. One look and everyone knows exactly where I'm from, even if I've never actually set foot in my homeland. "How may I assist you today?"
Raven steps forward with his usual charm and swagger. "We'll need several sets of clothing for each of the men," he says, gesturing to our group. Then his hand finds the small of my back, gentle but protective. "And whatever this lovely lady desires."
The shopkeeper's eyes practically turn into gold coins at the prospect of such a large sale. "Wonderful!" She claps her hands together, beaming. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. Would you care for some champagne while you browse?"
I blink in surprise. In Reinmich, alcohol is strictly regulated for omegas. Too many incidents of alphas using it to take advantage, my father always said. As if they needed the excuse. "You're offering champagne? To an omega?"
The shopkeeper looks confused by my reaction. "Of course! Why wouldn't I? Unless you prefer tea? We have a lovely jasmine blend."
"Champagne is perfect," I say quickly, still processing this casual freedom. Maybe Geo was right about this place. Too bad we can't stick around.
The shopkeeper bustles off to fetch our drinks, and I drift toward the women's section, grateful for a moment of space.
Even Knight seems content to let me wander, though I can still feel his watchful gaze tracking my movements.
Raven has descended upon him already, holding up different colored fabrics against the massive alpha's frame.
"I'm thinking he's more of a winter," Raven muses, tilting his head thoughtfully. "The cool tones would complement that mask beautifully. What do you think, Daddy? Or do you think he's a spring?"
Geo, who's apparently been conscripted as Raven's unwilling assistant, does a double take at Knight. "The fuck does that even mean?"
"Color theory, obviously," Raven explains. "Some people look better in warm tones, others in cool—"
"There ain't nothing spring about that motherfucker," Geo says, holding his palm up to cut Raven off as if he doesn't want any further knowledge of color palettes taking up residence in his brain.
Knight growls in what sounds like agreement, and I can't help the snicker that escapes me. The sound draws their attention, and Raven waves me off.
"Go on, goddess. Enjoy yourself, I'll handle the boys."
I'm grateful for the reprieve. Being surrounded by alphas all the time is definitely not something I'm used to yet. But it isn't as weird as it should be. The truth is, I'm getting attached to these fuckers.
All of them.
Even Nikolai with his perpetual scowling and complete and utter lack of fashion sense.
The silks call to me like sirens, and I run my fingers over fabric so soft it feels like water. The shopkeeper reappears with a tray of champagne flutes, pressing one into my hand with an encouraging smile.
"Please, try anything you like," she says. "I'll set up a fitting room for you."
"Thank you," I answer, surprised she's actually speaking to me and not the alphas.
Even in Reinmich, I was always Arthur Maybrecht's daughter.
Monty Filch's wife. A doll to be dressed up and paraded around, not a person to be acknowledged in her own right.
And I had it better than most omegas there, I imagine.
The champagne is crisp and perfect, bubbles sizzling on my tongue as I explore the shop.
Every piece I touch, every outfit I show the slightest interest in, the attendant whisks away to the fitting room she's preparing.
By the time I make my way there, there's already a small mountain of options waiting.
The first dress I try is a deep sapphire blue that makes my eyes look a deeper purple in the soft lighting. The silk clings in all the right places. The attendant appears as if summoned, holding out a golden cord.
"For the waist," she explains, helping me cinch it properly. "It's all the fashion in the capital right now. The Queen herself favors this style."
"Thank you," I murmur, studying my reflection as I fasten the cord around my waist. I look... regal. Like I belong in a palace instead of running through wastelands with a pack of dangerous alphas.
"And this," the shopkeeper adds, offering me a piece of thin, sheer fabric in a shade of icy blue.
It's so featherlight and smooth as it lands in my palms, it feels in danger of slipping right through my fingers.
She helps me fasten it, the fabric sheer enough as it covers the lower half of my face that I can still see the curve of my lips through it.
The attendant beams. "It's perfect on you! Shall I set these aside?"
I agree and thank her, already reaching for the next option, complete with the matching cord and veil she's procured for every outfit I selected.
This one is emerald green, with intricate gold embroidery along the neckline and sleeves, and a matching veil with slightly more opaque fabric that will be perfect for concealing my identity until we get into the palace.
I'm just adjusting the drape when I hear a collective intake of breath behind me.
I turn to find all four of the alphas crowded in the doorway of the fitting area, their eyes fixed on me. Nikolai lets out a low wolf whistle that earns him an elbow from Raven.
"Fucking hell," Geo mutters, his gaze roaming over me in a way that makes heat creep up my neck.
"You look absolutely divine," Raven breathes.
Knight just stares at me like I've hung the moon. Or like I am the moon, and the stars, too.
"Aren't you supposed to be shopping?" I ask, trying to ignore the way their attention makes my skin prickle.
Geo shrugs, not even pretending to look apologetic. "We finished. Pants, tunics—or whatever they call these glorified man dresses—and we're good."
"Speak for yourself," Raven protests. "But I wasn't going to miss the show."
I huff, doing a little turn so they can see the full effect of the dress. "Well? What do you think?"
"I prefer you in an open bathrobe," Nikolai says with a leer that should probably annoy me more than it does. "But the dress is nice too."
I roll my eyes, but I can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips as they fuss over me. Each dress I try on gets the same treatment. Excessive compliments, heated looks, and Nikolai making increasingly inappropriate comments that Raven keeps trying to shush.
As I slip into a stunning white-and-gold number that makes me look like some kind of celestial being, I catch myself wondering what Azarel would think if he saw me like this.
Would his breath catch the way theirs does?
Would his eyes darken with that same hungry appreciation?
Probably not. I'm sure he'd be annoyed that I'm here at all, in his precious homeland that he clearly never had any intention of bringing me to. The thought threatens to sour my mood, but I push it aside.
I'm not letting anything ruin this day.
After what feels like hours of playing dress-up, I change back into my original outfit. As luxurious as it felt before, at least compared to the clothes I've just been in, the robes seem simple and drab. I pause in front of the rack holding my selections and study the colorful silks.
"This is depressing," I mutter, running a silken sleeve through my grasp.
Raven rushes to my side immediately, concern written all over his pretty face. "Why, goddess? What's wrong?"
I gesture at the pile of gorgeous dresses the attendant has been setting aside. "I look amazing in everything. How am I supposed to choose?"
He gives a bright, delighted laugh. "Then we'll simply have to buy it all. Spoiling you is all I've ever wanted, anyway."
"Like hell," Nikolai interjects. "I'm paying."
"Do you even have Surhiiran coin?" Raven scoffs.
While they continue to bicker over who gets the privilege of dropping a small fortune on silk, I drift over toward where Knight is standing.
He's watching the argument with what I've learned to recognize as annoyance tinged with amusement, even though his mask makes it impossible to read any of his expression beyond his eyes. But his eyes tell enough.
I give him a little smile and all his annoyance visibly evaporates.
Geo catches my eye as he wanders closer, looking more serious than usual. "You ready for this?" he asks quietly. "Seeing where he came from, finding out more about his past?"
I consider his question, rolling the champagne flute between my fingers. "I'm ready to get answers," I say finally. "The rest... I'll deal with as it comes."
He smirks, and there's something almost proud in his expression. "Good girl."
The words send a jolt of heat flooding through me like someone lit a match in a pile of tinder. I shove it down quickly and look away before he sees just how much those two simple words just affected me. Knight gives me a quizzical look that I pretend not to notice.
Well, fuck.
I've learned something about myself today. Something I'd rather stuff in a box and bury at the bottom of the ocean's deepest trench than acknowledge.
Apparently, I have a thing for praise.
"I'm going to go... check on the dress situation," I mumble, fleeing before Geo can see my flaming cheeks or figure out exactly what his words just did to me.
Behind me, I hear Knight rumble with what might be laughter.
Traitor.