Chapter 25 #2
“I have feathers,” I protested, “and do not need clothing.”
Alaina’s arms dropped in her disappointment, the garment now a puddle of blue brocade on the ground. She hesitated a moment before turning away from me and draping it over the chaise.
“I had one of my dresses made into a robe for you,” she said. “Since you’re so much taller than I am, I had my seamstress cut sections of the skirt to add to the bottom and make it look less skirt-like.”
My gaze traveled the length of the robe.
The brocade dazzled in the lamplight, reflecting and absorbing the light according to elegant folds and alternating glossy and matte foliate patterns woven into the cloth.
Gold braid and crystal bead trim hid the seams from the original skirt to the additions.
The front bodice had been converted into a top of military style, bedecked in gold braid and ornate clasps.
The deep brown sable fur trimmed the hem and the open collar that met just above the top golden clasp.
“I wanted to give you something green to match your eyes, but I didn’t have anything that color,” she explained.
I took a step toward the robe and reached out, brushing my fingertips through the fur and tracing my claws over the gold braid.
I withdrew before I reached the blue brocade, afraid the rough texture of my hands would pull the shimmering threads.
I had not worn anything so handsome in such a long time.
I hated the robe for the covetousness it inspired in me.
“Thank you. It is a kind thought,” I admitted, “but there is no way to get a robe over my wings.”
There. A practical thought. A practical reason not to accept it. I would not look ungrateful with the observation but solid and resolved. And I would not offend her.
“But I thought of that!” Alaina grabbed the robe up from the chaise and turned it around, draping it over her arm.
She showed me the backside, two slits running down from the shoulder blades.
“The middle section goes between your wings, and then there are clasps beneath.” She pinched one of the gold braid clasps that echoed the military fastenings of the front and held it out for me to see.
“Provided that the slits are at the right height, of course. I would like you to try it so that I can see. And if there’s something wrong or off, it can be fixed. ”
Someone I cared about offered me material consideration beyond some token access to fire or a cute little picnic that would be over and done within an hour.
The robe was a token of her world, of her world as a person and as a princess, that she was sharing with the creature of another.
This was a gesture the likes of which she might have appreciated had our roles been reversed.
This wasn’t care of an animal. This was a gift, a fabulously expensive gift, from one person to another, and not just any other.
This was a gift intended for someone dear.
She was dear to me. And somehow, I had become dear to her.
I took a step back, frightened a little by the import.
The glitter of her eyes dulled and her voice wavered with the evaporation of her joy. “Please try it?”
The soft request broke through my hesitance. I couldn’t let myself be the cause of her unhappiness, and I couldn’t bear to disappoint her after investing so much thought into her present.
“Yes,” I said. “Thank you.”
Alaina’s radiant delight returned with my acquiescence.
“Arms in,” she instructed as she held the robe up for me.
“Your sleeves won’t fit me,” I cautioned, “if this was one of your dresses.”
“I thought of that too!” She hooked one of the openings over my arm.
“A tight-fitting sleeve would certainly have prevented you from being comfortable, so I had the shoulders extended with gold braid and sleeve caps. And I had my sleeves replaced with bell sleeves so you have greater movement.” She fitted the back of the robe over my wings and then pulled the other sleeve over my other arm.
“I spent a lot of time figuring out how to make this work for you. That’s why it took so long.
I was hoping it would be ready the first week you were with me, and then I kept finding faults with the design. ”
The sleeves slipped down my arms, luxurious and silky.
The fur trim lay gently reassuring on the backs of my hands.
The fur collar warmed the back of my neck.
I closed my eyes to enjoy the sensations and forget for just a moment everything that had occurred this past year that made this event so special.
“The slits look about the right height.” Alaina fastened the robe under my wings and tugged on the fabric to straighten it out. “The length looks good too.”
I took a deep breath and opened my eyes.
“It looks splendid on you.” Alaina stood before me and began fastening the clasps up the front. “How does it feel?”
I swallowed around a lump and could not find my voice.
“Does it feel all right?” she asked again when she finished.
I nodded, unable to respond with anything more coherent.
“It suits you.” She took several steps back to study her handiwork. “Truly. You look so handsome.”
Unshed tears burned the corners of my eyes, and I could not tell her why.
I could not tell her that I once wore elegant clothing.
I could not tell her that I had once worn it beautifully and without pretense.
I could not tell her that I had never worn feathers before under such fine clothes.
I could not tell her that I never again expected to be called handsome, even in clothes that were objectively so.
I would not cry in front of her. I would not.
“What’s wrong, Kaylay?”
I took a measured breath to hold back the tears just a few moments longer since I had no valid excuse, to her anyway, for weeping.
“I told you not to make a man of me,” I choked out.
She flinched.
“What’s next?” I asked insensitively. “Will you glove my hands to hide them? Or will you pluck the feathers from my face?”
“I just wanted to give you something pretty. That's all.”
The slight tremor in her voice betrayed deep hurt.
She turned away from me to hide her own tears.
Despite the bitterness I had summoned to keep mine in check and the conviction that, after everything, I had no more to shed, I silently joined her.
I had forgotten how to be gracious, and I had wounded her in the process of maintaining the most tenuous hold on my dignity.
“I’m sorry, Alaina,” I whispered. “You didn’t deserve that.”
“The tsarina treats you shamefully. Of course, that’s what you would think.” She turned to face me, doing as poor a job wiping at her tears as I was doing to my own. “Truly, I didn’t mean—”
“I know,” I assured her. “I know.”
I held my arms out for her, an offer that the beautiful, shining sleeves made acceptable. I could never have done it with feathered arms.
She walked into them, wrapped her arms around me, and buried her face against my chest. I enfolded her in my arms too, and we stood there for moments that passed like hours, bodies pressed against each other for warmth, for affection, for reassurance.
We were all each other had, and I refused to let any sad semblance of pride separate us.
“You went through all that trouble for me. You thought of every practical detail to make it suitable for my strange form. And I behaved with such ingratitude. Forgive me? Please?”
“Of course, I forgive you.” She released me and stepped back, running her hands down my arms to take my hands. “I didn’t think how you might perceive it.”
“I was being needlessly defensive.” Mostly as a cover for other vulnerabilities I couldn’t own, but that was no excuse. “This took great thought and consideration. I am ill-suited for such things, but thank you.”
“You are not ill-suited.” She squeezed my hands. “Would you come and see?”
I didn’t want to. I had done it before, and the image seared itself into my memory. I had avoided mirrors since, not needing the reminder of the nightmare I had become.
But Alaina held my hands. She stared up into my face and smiled. I wore something beautiful and elegant because of her, given a measure of dignity by it that no other had afforded. She even called me handsome. And if she had asked me to do anything right now, I did not think I could say no.
I followed her through her bedroom and into her dressing room, where she too had her golden-framed pier mirror.
I stood stark against the sea of glimmering satins and pastel accessories, but part of it now by virtue of the blue brocade.
Beyond the mirror being on a different wall, the circumstances aligned so closely as with the tsarina that I almost had to retreat.
But I didn’t. Beyond her requests of the firebird — to go home, to not be alone — she had never asked anything of me.
And I had never been able to give her anything beyond my pathetic excuse for company. I could give her this.
Alaina never dropped my hand, even when I stumbled, the bells on the anklets marking every step. Instead, she clasped my hand with both of hers and stood beside me while the creature stared back at us from the glass.
And it wasn’t hideous. Strange, yes. Unnatural, yes. But the black feathers shone blue-green in the muted light against the brocade, and the deep sable intensified the green of my eyes.
I raised my clawed hand to my chest and stroked down the blue brocade, every gold braid fastening a prominent bump along the way.
“The robe is beautiful,” I said. “It’s finer than wedding clothes, and much finer than anything I have seen worn at court.”
“It suits you completely.” She released one hand to smooth down the guard hairs of the sable fur on the collar. “It doesn’t interfere with your tail feathers, does it?”
“No. Thank you.”
She leaned her head against my arm and watched us together in the mirror, her fingers laced through mine, a small dreamy smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Was she imagining the day she could return to Altania?
Or maybe of the day we could go together?
Whatever her pleasant thoughts, I so longed to be part of them, even if my role consisted of nothing more than sitting silently at her feet while she read to me by the fire.
I could not imagine any future, however unpleasant all my current options seemed to be, without her there, somewhere, being part of my life.
The most, and best, I could hope for would be to be her pet in Altania.
My obstinate mouth would probably not let me be silent for the rest of my days, but in Altania, she would set the standards, and I may not have to watch myself so carefully.
Although, since I knew almost no Altanian, I may not have much to say.
And if she couldn’t have me or didn’t want me there....?
I tried not to think about that. It was a real possibility that, despite talking to me of going to Altania, she would not be allowed to bring me if her brother refused.
Or, worse, if my presence was so wrapped up with Ilyichia and her unpleasant time trapped here, she might wish to leave me behind, even despite her protests.
I didn’t know when this pint-sized princess had wormed her way into my heart, but she was there, tucked safely away, and there was no way to extract her now.
I didn’t ever want to be without her. And the contemplation of separation hurt worse than I could comprehend — almost like losing Irena all over again.
“You really like it?” she asked.
“You’ve given me back some of my dignity.” I squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”
“I know clothes are somewhat superficial, but they make the point. No one else may understand how special you are, but I do. And I want everyone to see it.” She hugged my arm. “And I want everyone to know how special you are to me.”