Chapter 41
Early evening light streams through the gauzy curtains and illuminates the seamstress in the doorway, a garment bag draped over her shivering arms.
I furrow my brows. “But I already have a gown for the ball tonight.”
She extends her arms. “King Caelus insists.”
I have no choice but to accept it. A chill bites my forearms from the thin layer of ice coating the garment bag. The seamstress gives me a curt nod, her forearms blanched, and disappears down the hallway. Closing the door, I cross to the mirror and hang it on a small golden hook.
I pull down the zipper, and billowing white tulle bursts free. The dress is so light blue it’s nearly white, and diamonds of all shapes cluster along the bottom like clouds.
“Oh, that’s pretty,” Thea says, sliding into the room.
Sunlight catches the marquis crystals spanning the bodice, and delicate gold wings cap the thin sleeves. My stomach churns at the thought of what funded this dress.
And that it looks like something Isolde would wear.
I shake my head. “I’m not wearing it.”
Last week, I entertained him and wore the gown he sent me for the dinner. Not again. I abandon the bag, and Thea lets out a long sigh, settling into a chair in front of the fireplace.
I sweep to her side and kneel. “I need you to listen to me very closely.”
Her eyes widen. “Is everything okay?”
Over my shoulder, I check the bolt is locked and that no shadows are peeking from under the door. No curious ears listening.
I return my attention to her. “Kressa has a ship ferrying people to Ignata, and you’ll be boarding it tonight while everyone is distracted at the ball.”
A vertical line appears between her brows. “Why?”
“Caelus is threatening to kill you.”
She flinches back, eyes wide, but chews on the inside of her cheek and shakes her head. The determination of my first mate flashes through. “I’m not leaving you.”
I fold my hands over hers. “I need to know you’ll be okay, and it’s only temporary. I’ll get to you as soon as The Gales are over.”
“If you don’t die first.”
Her words permeate the air—the ever-present concern looming over our heads for the last three weeks.
“I’m not going to die.”
She gives me a piercing look, knowing as well as I do I can’t guarantee my safety. But if I can guarantee hers, I’ll lie a million times over.
A long breath billows from her. “I don’t have a say in this, do I?”
“No. Because I cannot watch you die.”
She swallows and wrings her hands in her lap. “Okay.”
Tension drips from my shoulders. “Thank you. Meet me in Harriet’s room at midnight, and I’ll take you to the ship.”
With a solemn nod, she runs her hands over her dress. A creak echoes through the room, and the servant’s door swings open.
Marianne slips in, holding my competitor suit, and grimaces at the dress hanging on the mirror. “Is that an oversized cotton ball?”
A strained huff comes from Thea as I stand. “You wouldn’t happen to have a secret dress collection, would you?”
Marianne’s lip quirks, then slowly widens into a mischievous grin. “What color do you have in mind?”
In Delterran, I traditionally favor deep shades of blue, but the dresses in my closet here mock me. I’ve been forced to wear nothing but blue for the last decade. But what could represent the sea without being blue?
Warmth fills my chest. The sunrise.
I smile. “What about gold?”
She beams and tosses Harriet’s suit to the bed. “I have just the one.”
Moments later, she returns with a long sheath of fabric draped over her arms and replaces the dress from Caelus with hers. It cascades in a sweep of gold, as if the sun itself painted it. The train pools on the floor in a metallic puddle, light reflecting off the strands.
I approach it and run my fingers along the silky fabric. The individual threads are so thin they’re nearly indistinguishable from each other. My breath catches in my throat. “Is it—”
“Pure gold.” She smiles and runs a finger down the fabric. “Shall we try it on before you get in the suit?”
I step into the gown and ease it up my body, the fabric hugging me like a second skin. Two thin straps lay against my shoulders, and the neckline dips to the center of my chest. Kressa’s necklace hangs in the middle, the gold an exact match.
Marianne clasps the back, and I toy my fingers through the fabric, where a slit runs up the length of my thigh.
I bite my lip. “But my dagger.”
She’s nothing but a flash of red as she kneels down and alters the hem to a perfect length. “Check the other side.”
My fingers trace down my covered leg and find a hairline slit—big enough to conceal a small weapon. I tug at the pocket as if I’m drawing my blade, but in my reflection, my hand rests, unmoving against my thigh.
“How is this possible?” I breathe.
“I can glamour clothing like Gemma glamours people, I just don’t do it as often. There’s a second pocket hidden at your hip, should you need to carry anything else.”
Thea pulls her dress from the hook and gives me a slow, considering smile. “That’s what you’re wearing instead?”
I nod.
“Is that wise?”
“Probably not.”
She stares, and a smirk tugs at her lips. “You look like royalty.”
I tilt my chin and smile in the mirror. I am royalty.
Marianne steps away and admires the gown. “Perfect fit.” She returns and eases the straps off my shoulders. “Gemma will be here any moment. We should get you in the suit.”
I swallow and nod. The gown falls from my body and catches light from the descending sun, splattering gold around the room.
Thea passes me the suit, and I shove my legs into the pants, buttoning the fly.
She helps my arms into the sleeves, and I stare at her hands. Just over a decade ago, they wielded a sword with ability that rivaled my own. But since then, the calluses have smoothed over, her skin soft.
My first mate is still there, buried under layers of tulle and jewels, and I’m going to get her back.
I slide the suit jacket over my shoulders, stretching my fingertips through the cuffs.
“Midnight,” I whisper.
She makes a low humming noise. “I’ll be there.”
Gemma enters through the servant’s door and brushes her hair off her forehead. “I’m sorry I’m late.” She cups my face. “Are you ready?”
No.
“Yes.”