Chapter 33 Esmerine #2
Pull yourself together, Goldie. I swiped the tears away, then pressed my face into the pillow.
This was why I’d avoided dating for so long—I was terrible at it.
I got all worked up way too easily. Apparently I could face down Tendrils and basilisks and Laitha and be just fine, but the minute I started feeling things, I dissolved into a sappy mess.
In my head, I heard Esmer’s voice say, If you’re going to cry over a guy, at least make sure you’re getting something good out of the deal. Like toe-curling sex.
I half-snorted and half-sobbed into my pillow, and when sleep finally overtook me, I didn’t fight it.
I woke to the door bursting open.
“Goldie!”
I jerked upright, terrified. My mind took in my surroundings—stone walls, rumpled bed, and the small, perky girl in the doorway—and it took me a moment to remember where I was and how I’d gotten there.
“Aw, I was kind of hoping I’d find the two of you in here together,” Ary said as she bounded into the room, her arms full of fabric. Her eyes ran down my body. “Or did I just miss him?”
Oh, right. I’m completely naked. I quickly snatched my discarded towel up from the floor and wrapped it around my body. “If you’re talking about Octavian, he was never here.”
“Really?” She looked disappointed. “Well, don’t worry—he won’t be able to resist you when he sees you in this.” She held up the bundle of fabric in her arms, which turned out to be a dress.
And it was a gorgeous dress, too—the skirt had multiple layers, each one in a different shade of blue.
The bodice appeared to be navy, but it was hard to tell because it was covered in thick, detailed embroidery—flowers and vines done in dozens of colors of thread and ribbon, even strung with beads in several places.
“Do you like it?” Ary asked. “It’s Fiona’s, but I convinced her to trade for it. I would’ve given you one of mine but they’re all too small for you.”
For the first time since she’d entered my room, I realized that she, too, had foregone the pants and shirt she’d been wearing before for a flowing dress of yellow, complete with swirling, spring-green embroidery across the bodice and down the long sleeves.
She even had gold ribbons braided through her dark hair.
“What’s it for?” I asked.
“What do you mean? The Hill Festival, of course.” She gestured for me to get up. “Come on, I want to make sure it fits you.”
I climbed off the bed, careful to keep the towel wrapped around me. “I thought that wasn’t until tonight.”
“It’s nearly sundown,” she replied. “You’ve been asleep all day.”
“Oh.” I never would have known. I did feel rested, though. It would probably be a few days before I slept off my exhaustion completely, but I had to admit I felt refreshed—or at least more clear-headed than I’d been in the moments before I drifted off.
“Here,” Ary said, shoving the dress into my free hand. “Give me your towel.”
“Oh, no, I don’t need you to—”
“Fine,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll turn around. But I’m staying. We need to make sure the dress fits and then get started on your hair.”
Considering I had no other clothes to wear—my other dress was probably still on the floor of the bathing room—I saw no reason to protest. Besides, I had to admit that I was dying to try on the beautiful garment.
The handful of times I’d cosplayed at local fantasy conventions had nothing on the real thing.
The dress fit like a glove. It was almost like magic, the way it molded to my body as if I’d been born to wear it. The skirts were even flowier than I’d realized, swirling around my legs like water as I spun around toward Ary.
“Ooh, I wish we had a mirror in here so I could show you,” she said, clapping her hands together in delight. “But trust me, the Mighty Oak is going to drool when he sees you.”
My stomach twisted, my conversation with Talon still fresh on my mind. Did I want him to drool? Even knowing what I now knew?
Ary had shoes for me, too—soft boots that were much more comfortable than the last ones.
“Now let’s do your hair.” Ary gestured to the bed. I hadn’t even noticed the circlet and ribbons hanging over her arm until that moment.
I sat down, and she climbed up on the bed behind me.
“I’m not usually good with hair,” she said, running her fingers through mine. “Fiona always does mine. But yours is so pretty and wavy I think I can manage.”
I winced as her fingers caught on a snarl.
I was honestly pretty sure my hair was a disaster, especially considering I hadn’t even seen a brush in days.
It was probably a good thing there wasn’t a mirror in here, because at least without one I could imagine I looked like the fantasy version of myself in my head—not the reality of a girl who’d been running for her life for two days straight.
Ary hummed to herself as she worked, continuing to comb through the rats’ nest of my hair with her fingers. Every once in a while I’d feel her twist and tug, presumably adding a braid, and before I knew it, she sat back with a satisfied sigh. “That should do it.”
“Really?” I reached up. Most of my hair still hung freely down my back, but my fingers brushed against several twists and plaits she’d added.
“Well, one last thing.” She climbed off the bed and stepped around in front of me, the circlet in her hands.
It was a simple thing—like a piece of gold wire haphazardly looped around three or four times—but still enchanting.
Several blue ribbons were tied to the back.
She placed the circlet carefully on my head, threading my hair through it in a couple of places to keep it in place.
In this position, even with the high neckline of her dress, I got a close-up view of the violet tattoo that spread across her collarbone and up her throat. From this distance, it looked less like an intricate pattern and more like strange, beautiful letters.
“What does it say?” I asked. “Your tattoo?”
She froze, her mouth dropping into a flat line. It was like all her effervescent energy had just disappeared in a single breath.
“I didn’t mean— I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I wasn’t trying to pry.”
“You’re not.” She smiled at me, but it was missing her usual spark. “It’s not really that interesting, I promise.”
Despite her claim that it was no big deal, she seemed in no hurry to answer me. So I dropped it. “How do I look?”
Some of the life crept back into her. “Beautiful. Just wait until the Mighty Oak sees you.” She grabbed my hands, tugging me up off the bed. “Come on—I don’t want to miss anything.”
I let her pull me out of the room and down the stone corridor, back to the large gathering room where we’d had breakfast. There were fewer people here this time—maybe half a dozen—and most were dressed in colorful garb just like Ary and me.
On the far side of the room were Talon and Octavian.
Talon saw me first. When his mouth spread into a grin, Octavian turned, following his gaze.
When his eyes landed on me, a little shock of electricity crackled through my bones. My mind automatically answered the question I’d avoided earlier: Yes, I want him to drool. Even knowing everything I know.
“Ladies.” Talon spread his arms, coming towards us. “You look lovely.”
Octavian followed on his heels, and though his eyes remained locked on me, burning with an intensity I could feel even from here, his mouth had dropped into a frown.
“I know we talked about attending the festival,” he rumbled when they’d reached us, “but I was thinking later. After we’ve ensured it’s safe.” He dropped his voice so that the rest of the room’s occupants couldn’t hear. “I’m just about to go meet Alastor and Radven as planned.”
“And I promise, they’ll tell you the same thing I have,” Talon said, “That yes—there are extra patrols and a small mercenary troop in residence in the town, but that’s simply due to the increase in beasties we’ve seen in the area.
And if any member of the Circle sets foot through the gates, my people will know immediately. ”
“I still think we should take precautions with—”
“Oh, let the girl have a little fun. My people will look after her.” Talon threw an arm around my shoulders and grinned up at Octavian. “You have my word, old friend. I won’t let anything happen to her. And if there’s even a hint of trouble, I’ll get her back here immediately.”
Octavian still didn’t look convinced, but when his eyes met mine again, his expression softened somewhat. He must have been able to see how much I wanted—needed—to have a little fun.
“Come on,” Talon teased his friend. “The Oak I knew would never have denied someone the opportunity to drink and be merry.”
“All right,” Octavian said finally, though it looked like it killed him to do so. “But if anything happens to her—”
“You’ll murder me. I know, I know,” Talon said. “Don’t worry, your little Marigold is safe with me.”