Chapter Five Beauty Rest #3
Lorzok raised his arms gracefully, spun around, and offered his hand. Saeldian took it and grinned as they turned a dance step to Lorzok’s tuneless humming, but they stopped when Kell emerged from the office, dressed in Wisdom’s finest.
His hair fell to his shoulders in loose, feathery waves, and it gleamed where the light caressed it.
He’d shaved the adventurer’s stubble off his face, exposing the delicate dimple in his chin, but his borrowed robes did not fit.
Wisdom had excellent color sense and had ordered his dressy non-magical robes in deep plum-shot black silk that would flatter his lavender skin.
They made Kell’s golden-toned skin look smooth and warm, but if Kell took a deep breath, Wisdom’s beautiful, shimmering robes would split.
“Oh dear,” Saeldian said.
“It’s a disaster. I know. You don’t have to say it. What if I left it unbuttoned and used a belt?”
That fine black weskit and blouse had to be Kell’s, at least. The black didn’t quite go, but Saeldian had an idea.
“Letting it hang free will hide it better. Wisdom’s a beanpole. A nice deep hem will weight the whole robe dramatically, so that part’s simple. But those shoulders, and across the back…” Saeldian eyed the heap of scraps left over from its making. “That’s the problem. I hope I have enough.”
Too small all across the back, and they couldn’t use scissors this time.
Saeldian found a little two-pronged hook in one of the sewing boxes.
They slipped one end into the seam at the shoulder and paused.
Kell was bigger across the shoulders, and not because he was getting softer with the years.
He had carrying muscle, the kind of strength that came from work, which made sense if he was keeping up with the traveling pace of an orc.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m thinking,” Saeldian said, but started carefully picking the stitches out.
Kell’s looks had always transformed when he needed to dress up, and he’d pulled out all the stops. He’d used soap that smelled like the sweet grasses of Tethyr, and he held very still while Saeldian tried to ignore it.
The seam around the armscye picked out cleanly. Saeldian lifted Kell’s other arm to get at the stitches holding the sleeve, and Kell flinched away like he thought Saeldian was going to tickle him.
“Hold still.”
“I’m trying.”
“No, you’re not.”
Kell laughed at that, and Saeldian didn’t let themself laugh back.
Once they’d unpicked the other sleeve, they measured the gaps. “I’m going to Mend extra pieces in. It’ll do, as long as no one studies it.”
“Do you have enough?”
Saeldian eyed the pile. “I should work the back seam first.”
Once far enough away that Kell’s warm, perfumed skin was overtaken by old wood and beeswax, Saeldian sorted through the scraps from Wisdom’s robe.
“There’s a big one just there,” Bastion said. “What more do you need?”
Saeldian found the largest piece and draped it over their shoulder. “Four more pieces? Each shoulder and under the arm.”
“I’ll find them. You go ahead and fix our man there.”
“I can find them—”
“You need the time to do it right,” Bastion said. “Go on. I’ll find them.”
Banished back to the afternoon light by the window and that shiny-haired, good-smelling lout. Saeldian changed their angle to get the best view and breathed through their mouth.
Unpicking the sleeves had eased the strain of the back seam, but Saeldian would have to open it from the waist to the collar before they could really fit it properly. How was it laying now? Saeldian ran their fingers across the shoulder seams, and Kell jumped.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’m not scared,” Kell protested. “I wasn’t expecting it.”
“Have it your way, obviously steely-nerved hero,” Saeldian said, snickering. “I’m going to start picking this seam open. Just a little touch—”
But when Saeldian pressed the unpicking hook to Kell’s back, he shivered.
“All right there?”
“Fine,” he said. “Wasn’t expecting it.”
“Even though I told you. Going again.”
Kell tensed just a little before relaxing again. Really, this was too dramatic.
“I’m not going to stab you, Kell.”
“Of course not,” came the indifferent reply. “Not in front of Bastion, anyway.”
“Never,” Saeldian said. “He’d make me sand the blood off the floor myself.”
Bastion huffed out a laugh and picked out another fabric scrap.
Saeldian flipped the hook over to draw the thread out. “I hope there are no experienced tailors there to notice what I’m doing.”
“What—what are you doing?” Kell’s voice scraped over the words.
Saeldian paused. “Frog in your throat? Do you need some water?”
“No. Actually, yes.”
Bastion set his task down so quickly, a scrap of shot silk fluttered to the floor. “Don’t move. I’ll get it.”
They needed all the time they could get to fix Kell’s ensemble, but why was everyone acting so weird? Maybe if Saeldian explained, it would help.
“Mending is usually just fixing a garment with a hole in it, or a burn mark, that kind of thing. I’m re-tailoring this robe to fit you.”
“So?”
“So you’re not going to have seams down the center back or on the shoulders. It’s just going to be the right shape. A tailor will know it’s odd at a glance. Mending now.”
Saeldian let the spell flow out of their fingers, and the pieces merged, inch by inch. Kell’s back shifted as he tensed again. Why?
“Can you feel that?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry,” Saeldian said. “I’m nowhere near done.”
Bastion returned with a clay jug and a cup. Kell drank it in one quaff and held it out for a refill from the jug. Saeldian concentrated on fitting the robe in silence until they could say, “It’s done.”
Kell was halfway out of the library in a breath. “Thanks.”
Saeldian stared at the doorway, hearing only the echo of Kell’s hurried steps. What had they expected? Kell hated them. Saeldian helping him probably made it worse.
On Kell’s exit, Lorzok looked up from his book and sighed. “I guess we’ll see you at dinner.”
“Which is right about now,” Bastion said. “Find him and drag him to the table, will you?”
Saeldian put the seam cutter and scissors back in the mending box. How were they supposed to do this job together if Kell couldn’t wait to get away from them?
Bastion helped them clean up the scraps. “It seems you two are sailing on choppy water.”
“He can’t stand me,” Saeldian said. “I guess I would feel the same if I were him.”
“Take a moment to settle,” Bastion said. “You can’t be late for dinner if you walk in the room before me.”
Kell found a sturdy doorjamb and rubbed his back on it like a bear who’d found an excellent tree trunk while Lorzok waited for him to explain.
“Itchy.”
“I’m sure you are,” Lorzok said. “It’s such a reasonable explanation for the way you’re behaving.”
“Lorzok—”
“They said they deserted you, but they didn’t report you,” Lorzok continued. “You can’t observe Saeldian with all your anger in the way. I can. They were shocked.”
“So I should forgive them?” Kell glared up at Lorzok. “Because they only did nine-tenths of the horrible thing they did to me?”
“I’m not saying that. Saeldian told Briona that we can’t succeed if we can’t trust each other. I know this can’t be easy. But you can’t even let them help you with your disguise. Are you capable of putting that all aside for tonight?”
Kell slumped against the doorjamb. “You’re right to ask.”
“I’m no expert in heisting,” Lorzok said. “But even though we both look extremely handsome right now, I imagine this is dangerous, and Saeldian might need to touch you. Or you might have to touch them. Can you do it?”
Rubbing against the doorway did help. It was like an itch. Maybe he’d always have a tree handy. “I have to.”
Lorzok nodded as he let it go. “I trust you.”
“Oh, the secret weapon,” Kell said. “Let’s go, we’ll be late.”