Chapter 8
When they reached the door to the outer chamber, Aeryn hesitated. What if Khaeric was inside? What if he asked about the bathing chamber, about her time with the women?
She pressed the door open and stepped inside, Essa and Odelina following close behind. The bedroom door stood ajar. Aeryn moved toward it, her still-damp hair clinging to her neck and shoulders.
Khaeric had spread the clothing across the bed in organized rows. Leathers on the left, linens in the center, furs on the right. A smaller bundle sat apart from the rest; the ceremonial garments, if Malkor’s words were to be trusted.
“Oh,” Essa breathed behind her. “Aeryn, these are beautiful.”
Odelina walked past them, reaching for one of the leather pieces. “Look at this work. The details are extraordinary. Try something on,” she urged. “I want to see how Malkor’s cuts fit you.”
“I...” Aeryn glanced toward the doorway, half expecting Khaeric to appear. “Perhaps I should wait until—”
“Nonsense,” Odelina said, already lifting another piece from the bed. “We’re all women here. Besides, if something doesn’t fit properly, better to know now so Malkor can make adjustments.”
The logic made sense, even if Aeryn’s instincts still balked. She set the linen tunic on the bed. Her fingers found her bodice laces—she worked them loose before her nerve could fail—and the dress slipped over her head.
She pulled on the linen dress. It was light, breathable, cut to allow movement through the shoulders and arms. The neckline sat lower than she was accustomed to, revealing the hollow of her throat and the upper curve of her breasts. Not scandalous by mountain standards. But by her own?
Essa stepped closer, circling around to examine the tunic from different angles. “The fit is perfect,” she said, her voice carrying genuine admiration. “Look how it moves with you.”
This is what the women of the mountain wore. What Essa wore. What Odelina wore. Practical, comfortable, suited to the constant warmth that permeated these stone corridors.
“Stunning,” Odelina said, her gaze sweeping over Aeryn with open appreciation.
Aeryn tried on several more garments: another vest with brass clasps, a tunic with splits along the sides that revealed her hips when she moved, and a pair of fitted leather breeches that clung to her legs before changing back into a simple tunic.
Each piece felt like shedding another layer of her former self.
The court. The Church’s teachings. The careful modesty drilled into her since childhood.
“You look like you belong here now,” Odelina said, settling onto the edge of the bed.
Aeryn’s gaze drifted to the trunks against the far wall, filled with the gowns and shifts that had defined her old life. Fabric that covered, that transformed her body into something acceptable for court.
Walking to the trunks, Aeryn knelt and lifted the lid. The familiar scent of lavender and beeswax—her handmaidens had packed sachets between the layers—rose to meet her, a ghost of the life she’d left behind.
From the trunk emerged a pale blue gown, silver beading painstakingly sewn by three seamstresses over a month. For what purpose would she ever wear this here? To impress orcs who valued function over form, strength over delicacy?
Setting aside the blue gown, Aeryn started a pile for garments too impractical to keep. Next came a formal court dress in royal purple, its tight bodice and voluminous skirts designed to emphasize her slender waist while restricting her movement to a stately glide. Another for the discard pile.
Essa’s delighted laugh rang out as she snatched up the purple gown before Aeryn could add it to the pile, clutching the heavy fabric to her chest. The skirts pooled at her feet, hem dragging across the floor. “Look at this,” she said, turning toward Odelina.
Odelina rose from the bed and lifted the pale blue gown, pressing it to her torso as she swayed her hips experimentally, and the heavy fabric barely moved. “How did you walk in these?”
“Very carefully,” Aeryn said, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “And very slowly.”
Essa turned to face Aeryn. “What are you doing exactly?” she asked, her eyes bright with curiosity.
Aeryn settled back on her heels, her fingers still resting on the edge of the trunk.
“I’m deciding which of these I might actually need here, and which are just taking up space.
” She held up a heavy velvet gown. “This, for instance. I can’t imagine wearing it in the mountain’s heat.
” She tossed it into the growing pile of discards.
Essa set the purple gown aside and lifted a cream-colored dress with layers of lace and seed pearls. “But surely you’ll need some formal wear? For ceremonies or important gatherings?”
“Perhaps, though… in this mountain warmth?” Aeryn sighed, shaking her head. “And Malkor made ceremonial pieces,” she said, gesturing toward the smaller bundle still wrapped in its coarse cloth. “I assume those will be more appropriate than anything from court.”
Reaching deeper into the trunk, she drew out a simple forest-green day dress with minimal embroidery. This, at least, might suit daily wear. She added it to the much smaller keep pile.
Essa’s playfulness gave way to thoughtfulness. “What will you do with them? The ones you don’t keep?”
Aeryn hadn’t thought that far ahead. At court, unwanted garments went to younger cousins or were altered for ladies-in-waiting. But here? “Perhaps someone could repurpose the fabric?” she said. The pile of discarded gowns had grown substantial.
Odelina crouched beside the pile. “The embellishments alone are worth keeping. These could be incorporated into ceremonial garments.” She glanced up at Aeryn. “Or traded. There are merchants who come through the mountain regularly. They’d pay well for fabrics like these.”
“That makes sense,” Aeryn said, forcing the words past the tightness in her throat. “Better they serve some purpose than sit in a trunk gathering dust.”
Essa settled cross-legged on the floor beside the trunk. “We could help you sort through them all if you’d like. Make it go faster.”
Aeryn glanced between Essa and Odelina, both watching her with nothing but kindness. “I would appreciate that,” she said softly.
They worked in a comfortable rhythm after that, pulling garments from the trunks one by one.
Aeryn made the final decisions—keep, discard, perhaps.
The discards spread across the floor in a sprawling chaos of silk and velvet, brocade and lace, a small fortune in fabric that no longer fit the shape of her life.
The door swung open.
Khaeric looked around the room; the discarded gowns were spread across the floor. His brows knitted together as he took in the scene. “What happened here?”
Aeryn rose quickly, tugging at the hem of the tunic. “I was... we were sorting through my old clothes. Deciding what to keep.”
“I see.” His focus traveled from the scattered fabric to Aeryn’s bare legs and back to her face. A subtle tension set in his jaw before he turned his attention to Essa and Odelina amid the heap of gowns. “Thank ye for keepin’ her company.”
Essa rose from the floor, smiling. “It was our pleasure. We should let you settle in for the evening.”
Odelina stood as well, gathering the cream gown she’d been examining and folding it. “Thank you for sharing your afternoon with us, Aeryn. And for letting us play with these beautiful things.”
The door closed behind them with a soft thud. “Ye’ve been busy.”
“Yes. Malkor’s pieces are so much more practical. Most of these—” she gestured at the piles of silk and velvet “—serve no purpose here.”
“Ye’re gettin’ rid of all this?” he asked, crouching beside one of the discard piles, lifting the pale blue gown heavy with silver beading. “This is fine craftsmanship.”
“Odelina suggested trading them,” Aeryn said. “The merchants who come through the mountain might have use for the fabric and embellishments.”
“Aye. Some could be traded,” he said after a moment. “The cloth can be repurposed. Silk makes fine bandages for the healers. The beads and gems can be removed for other crafts.”
The heavily embroidered bodice felt rigid in her hands. “Even something like this?”
“Aye. The boning can be used for small tools, the fabric for linings or patches.”
Aeryn nodded, a small pang of loss flickering through her as she imagined her carefully chosen wardrobe dismantled, reduced to pieces. “And practical,” she said. Yet there was something freeing in it too; letting go of the physical trappings of her old life.
“Aye. That’s the way of the mountain.” Khaeric set the bodice aside. “I’ll take these to the craftmasters. They’ll know which pieces are best suited for what purpose.”
“Thank you.” She glanced at the remaining gowns scattered on the floor, their elaborate construction suddenly seeming absurd. How many hours had she spent laced into such prisons, barely able to breathe, much less move freely?
“Did ye enjoy the bathin’ chambers?” he asked.
The question shouldn’t have felt loaded, but it did. Images flickered through her mind—Odelina’s knowing gaze, Essa’s gentle probing, the weight of words she hadn’t known how to speak. “Yes,” she said. “The hot springs are beautiful. And Essa and Odelina were... kind.”
“Good.” Khaeric moved closer. “The women gather there most evenings. Ye’re welcome to join them whenever ye like.”
No pressure, no expectations. Just an open door if she chose to walk through it. “I will,” Aeryn said. “I think... I think I’d like that.”
“I’m glad.” He walked past her, his hand brushing against her shoulder as he passed.
She watched him gather the pieces Malkor had made. The memory of the bathing chamber conversation pressed against her thoughts—do you want Khaeric to touch you? The question had felt impossible to answer then, too raw to speak aloud.
But standing here now, watching him move through the space they shared, the answer felt less terrifying.