Chapter Twenty-Five
Despite the wear on the box the outfit had been delivered in, the dress was immaculate.
Every inch of fabric was a show of craftsmanship only possible with forged tools.
The silk fabric had been earth-spun and earth-woven, the threads impossibly fine and strong, the weave so delicate it was almost transparent.
She had known it was put together with fire-forged tools the moment she put the dress on.
It was like the dresses his courtesans had worn, but even finer. Fit for the highest of ketsan.
It was a soft lavender color that made her feel like she was lying in a field of flowers, drunk off summer wine.
The bodice was short and tight, starting at the small of her waist where it cinched in tightly, to the bottom of her chest where it flared slightly, doing little beyond cupping the very bottom of her breasts.
It hadn’t even closed entirely, leaving a gap a few fingers wide where the lacing cord criss-crossed below her chest.
She would have been entirely exposed were it not for the gossamer underdress—she knew it had a fancy name but she didn’t remember what it was—though that helped little.
It had been white before she put it on, but it now appeared pink from all the skin showing through.
The transparent sleeves draped off her shoulders, billowing down her arms and trailing below her fingertips.
She wanted to demand Karvek tell her what he wanted, why he wouldn’t just reveal his plans.
At least then Iryana wouldn’t be blindsided by whatever horrible things he made her do.
There was so much pressure riding on her impressing him, especially if he was really considering letting her into the brigade fully.
It didn’t matter, she reminded herself harshly.
It didn’t matter what the others thought, either. Vaneshta and Pepha had averted their gaze when she slipped down the floor, Pyetar nowhere to be found. A few of the soldiers she’d passed had stared, jaws dropped, before quickly looking away.
Karvek’s did nothing of the sort. His eyes perused her carefully, a smirk pulling at his sharp mouth. There was victory and satisfaction in that look. Like things were shaping up nicely for his plans.
He was dressed in fine clothes of his own, looking far more refined than she knew him to be. He didn't wear armor, just a jacket buttoned up his chest, with purple and silver embroidery and geometric shapes stitched along the front.
“That dress belonged to the Earl of Myura River’s personal courtesan.” Karvek pulled her beside him as they walked, and Iryana let him. “I always wondered what it would look like on a beautiful woman.”
She wasn’t capable of pretending to be shy or demure, and Karvek probably wouldn’t have believed it anyway, but she tried to channel some of the excitement that hummed inside her as she met his gaze. His smirk grew into a satisfied grin.
Iryana wrapped her hand around his offered arm. “Did you just want my company, or am I going to help you?”
“Can’t it be a bit of both?” He chuckled, but she could see the glint in his eye. It reminded her of when they scaled the walls at Midmarket.
“Of course.”
“What do you think of the dress?”
She looked down at the flowing lavender fabric and exposed skin, and swallowed. As much as she wanted to hate it, she didn’t.
“It feels like a different kind of armor,” she answered honestly.
Iryana wasn’t modest, but the traditional clothes she had grown up in were practical, fit for a climate that barely warmed past chilly. She had never walked around dressed half as scandalously, but she wasn’t going to cower in it.
Perhaps it was the magic woven into every thread of the dress, but she felt confident. Like she had some power of her own.
Karvek chuckled, patting her hand. “I knew you were adaptable.”
Was this what he was preparing her for by inviting her to that party?
“Did your meetings today go according to plan?” she asked softly, careful to word it in a way that didn’t ask for details.
If the King Commander really knew that Karvek wasn’t going to follow him, it felt strange that he included Karvek at all in these meetings. Unless the King Commander was still trying to win him over. Or perhaps it was all for show.
“They are shaping up nicely.”
“Tonight is just a gathering? A party of sorts?”
“Indeed. Ivan is gathering the brigade leaders to celebrate our cooperation and a successful day of meetings.” His lips smirked at that. “He hopes to make us happier, more complacent. Tonight the real work begins.”
Iryana nodded, hiding her disappointment when he didn’t explain further. They walked quietly after that, a couple of Karvek’s soldiers trailing behind them.
Based on the others meandering in the same direction, her guess was that each leader was allowed a companion and a couple of guards, something to make them feel secure.
The Rednian soldiers led the way through another courtyard and into a large, simple stone keep.
A few small groups of other finely dressed couples and armored guards inspected the others just like she was doing.
Iryana’s eyes widened when they entered the castle’s great hall.
Great columns stretched up to the ceiling, tables and cushioned benches lined the edges of the room, and people gathered around them.
They were probably soldiers from the King Commander’s division, their family members, and others loyal to him.
Only a few were armored and visibly armed, but that meant little when most of them could summon their forgings at a moment’s notice.
The center of the room was dominated by a large table, intricate wood carvings dancing up the legs and along the edges. She could have lain down in the middle, stretched out, and still come nowhere close to touching the edges.
The table basked in a warm glow from the lanterns placed around the bases of the columns, but the rest of the room was darker, shadowed.
There were groups of young men and women—mostly women—wearing scandalous clothing. Some were revealing in a way that rivaled Iryana’s gown, though their clothes weren’t nearly as fine. And no one else had fire-woven silks draped over their bodies.
“That is Ivan,” Karvek whispered in her ear, and she followed his gaze.
She would have known who he was even without him being pointed out.
The King Commander was a tall man with broad shoulders and long wavy blond hair, partially pulled back from his face with small braids.
He wore armor, not the kind for battle or to keep your insides from being ripped out, but the kind that looked regal and imposing.
His shining breastplate had the emblem of the metal-forged crown over his heart, but to Iryana’s disappointment, he wasn’t wearing such a crown.
He watched the other leaders as they gathered into groups around the sides of the table, and he had this look about him that said he was prepared to crush anyone who opposed him. It contrasted with what Vaneshta had said about his aims for peace.
Iryana glanced at Karvek, trying to decipher the look on his face, but it was well hidden behind a mask of indifference and docility. He watched the King Commander, a slight wrinkling at the corner of his eyes.
“He is a fan of women, as you can see.” Karvek tilted his head toward a group of women that were gathering near the King Commander. They were young, beautiful, and dressed with taunting bits of skin showing.
The gathering reminded her of the one Karvek had invited her to, and she wondered if it would devolve in a similar way.
The King Commander’s party seemed far more pretentious though, like he was playing court.
The whole room was pretending as if the invasion of the dakii had never happened.
Their clothes were clearly made decades ago, mended or adapted to fit them, but were still fine with their heavy brocades and embroidered fabrics.
While officers came from the ketsan, she doubted anyone in the room was true nobility.
A rich, ethereal sound began across the room, and Iryana gasped, her body feeling as if it were melting. She looked over to see a young, red-draped woman sitting at one side of the room, a forged-harp in her hands. The forging was dark enough to be nearly red.
The music was slow and sensual and, combined with the effect of the fire-woven dress wrapped around her skin, Iryana felt absolutely languid.
“You were right about the forged performers,” she sighed.
Karvek smiled slightly. “Yes, but don’t worry. The effect will lessen soon.”
She hoped so, or she’d want to find somewhere to lay down and let her imagination wander. Or somewhere private to take care of the burning inside her.
“Come, we should greet our host,” Karvek said, presenting his arm.
“Lead the way, my general.” She offered him a smile, not having to work hard to appear at ease.
She thought over Karvek’s possible plans again as they approached the great man that was the King Commander. Until she knew what he wanted from her, she could merely observe.
“Ivan,” Karvek greeted. Iryana tensed at the lack of deference at the same time the King Commander’s lips twitched.
Surprisingly, the King Commander pressed his lips into a tight smile. “Always a pleasure, Karvek.”
Surely if Karvek was pretending to belong to the King Commander, he would be less rude. Did that mean he already knew and was putting up with it? That answer only led to more questions.
“I didn’t know the 18th had such treasures still.” The King Commander’s eyes trailed over her dress, not her, his eyes swimming in envy. “Introduce me to your guest?”
Before Karvek could answer, a woman walked up to the chair beside the King Commander. She was young and looked a bit like him with the same colored hair and the same strong nose. Her jaw was tight, but she sat dutifully. Iryana noticed that Karvek’s eyes tracked her.