Chapter 45
Forty-Five
Unakite
It’s hard to imagine Graylen and Adrian setting off together to go shopping—especially when they can’t seem to be in the same room together for more than a few seconds.
But with the women’s shop on the other end of the town square from the men’s, I have no choice but to hope they don’t kill each other.
Well…that Graylen doesn’t kill Adrian.
Let’s face it; Adrian wouldn’t even be able to blink before Graylen had him on his knees.
The seamstress shop is filled with rows of fabric—tulle, satin, cotton, and more, varying colors and lengths. Not a single pair of pants in sight. Great. It isn’t like I needed a reminder of my loathing for Crea, but this certainly keeps the feeling fresh.
“Miss?” A delicate voice floats over to me, but there’s no one in sight. “Ah, just a moment.”
There’s a grunt and a shuffle, a handful of dresses to my right rustling. A hand emerges, shoving the hanging fabric aside and parting it down the middle. The seamstress has her hair in a low bun, the coloring faded to gray and loose curls frizzed in a frame around her softly wrinkled face.
“How can I help you?” she asks, her gaze dropping to my leather pants, cotton shirt, and leather vest. Her mouth tilts into a frown, but she doesn’t comment on the state of my dress.
A small bell on the front door jingles, and two young girls walk in, their dresses fresh and hair styled.
“Scarlett, I have your order, but Marlene, yours is going to take me a few days,” the seamstress calls out to them. “Shipment got delayed.”
One of the girls grumbles and drags the other girl back toward the door. “We’ll come back tomorrow then, Alice!”
The bell jingles again as they leave, and the seamstress rolls her eyes. She mutters something as she watches the door close before looking back at me.
“I’m in need of a few dresses—three should do.” The words are sour as they come out. The dresses here are…stifling to say the least. The skirts are full and the waistlines suffocating.
She eyes me, likely trying to judge if I can afford three different items. I force a smile on my face, not wanting to piss off the woman who could find me a few good dresses, and fish out the coins Adrian gave me.
“You can call me Alice,” she grunts, waving her hand and stepping through the pile of fabric. “Tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll get you fitted.”
What I’m looking for is something that allows me the movement to run if chased or fight if provoked, but I settle on, “Something breathable.”
Alice bobs her head, humming as she shuffles past me and disappears behind another pile of clothing. “Color? Fabric?” Her muffled questions carry over the sound of swishing dresses. “Depending on what you want, I could have your order ready by tomorrow evening.”
I wander toward the sound of her voice, brushing my fingertips along the fabrics. There were shops like this in Runnswick, but they weren’t ones Father ever allowed me to go to—not that I was complaining about skipping out on those.
“Whatever gets them the fastest,” I mutter.
Alice’s head pops out from my left just as I’m about to pass her. “I have plenty of extra spools of linen in the back. Not the fanciest, but it’ll last ya.”
Before I can give her a nod, she’s already slipping back into the mountain of cloth, murmuring to herself.
Alice measures me for the dresses, scribbling numbers on a small scrap of parchment. She doesn’t make small talk—doesn’t ask me where I’m from or why I’m wearing what I’m wearing—and for that I’m grateful.
She finishes placing the last pin in the fabric she draped over me, sweat collected on her brow. When she straightens, she grunts and holds her back, swearing lightly.
“I have one that’ll fit you tonight. Give me a minute.” She spins around and disappears into a back room.
A middle-aged woman and man come in, the woman with high cheekbones and small flower pins in her hair. She jumps up and down, running and grabbing different dresses to show to the man.
They look so…normal. Not plagued by the knowledge of what’s going on in their own kingdom. I wonder how happy she would be if she knew the darkness that was threatening to take over the land.
“You can try it on in the back.” Alice’s voice shakes me from my thoughts.
I give her a small smile and take the dress from her, quickly slipping into it in a small, empty closet. As promised, it’s light and not too constricting.
It’s a simple sky-blue dress with capped sleeves and a paneled skirt, complete with a floral front-laced bodice that slips over it. My muddied boots don’t exactly match, but it’ll do.
After tossing my soiled leathers into a small sack, I pay her for the dress, with an agreement to pay for the rest when I pick up the others. She sends me on my way, promising to have the last two ready by tomorrow’s sunset.
Another night in Lyland wasn’t the plan, but it’ll have to do.
The closer we get to the castle and to Runnswick, the more we’ll need to fit in. I’m not foolish enough to think someone won’t recognize either Graylen or Adrian at some point, but the lower profile we can keep, the better.
The walk back to the inn is quiet, the townspeople mostly keeping to themselves. Even this far out in the kingdom, the town seems accustomed enough to travelers that they don’t pay much attention to me.
My mind wanders to Leda, wondering if she’s made any gains in tracking down our missing patrols. Finding Nightfall may be my top priority, but we still need our army.
We don’t know what Moros has planned, and killing him may not stop what’s already been set into motion. Not being able to know what’s going on with her bothers me more than I thought it would.
She was no one to me a few months ago—just the princess of Penyth. A legend—a scary story told of the ruthless, bloodthirsty daughter of the queen. Well, that’s at least one thing the stories got right: she is bloodthirsty.
Leda is a warrior through and through, yet I can’t stop myself from worrying about how she’s doing and if she’s okay. But if there’s anyone who can handle themselves, it’s her.
I just hope she’s able to find the others before Daimon or one of Vidaris’s creatures finds her.
These thoughts plague my mind until, eventually, I find the bar. It’s quiet, with only a couple of patrons, one of them being Adrian—Graylen is nowhere to be seen.
Adrian is seated at the bar, his back to me, and from the looks of it, he found fresh clothing, too. My chest tightens as he glances over his shoulder at me. There’s a glaze over his eyes, and when he takes another sip of amber-colored liquid, I know he’s had his fair share of liquor.
It isn’t the look on his face that nearly knocks the wind out of me; it’s how much he resembles the boy I first met in the market. Before he was the prince, before he brought me to the castle and everything fell apart.
He looks so much like the friend I had once made that I can’t help but feel sadness for the friendship we lost. The things we felt for each other aside, he was once my friend. And now, he’s a stranger.
Funny how your once-closest ally can become someone you pass and avoid eye contact with. How someone you once called a friend is now living their life without you, and you without them.
“Drink?” Adrian slurs, holding his cup up.
I hesitate, stuck between wanting to bolt back to my room or unwinding with a pint of ale. Fuck it. I give him a tight smile and decide the need for a drink outweighs my desire to run away.
The barkeep sets down a pint at almost the same moment I slide onto the stool. From the corner of my eye, I can see Adrian’s gaze on me. He isn’t drunk enough to sway in his seat, but he isn’t sober enough to hide what he’s feeling.
I drain the cup in ten big gulps, plopping it back on the bar and motioning for a refill.
The liquid is bitter against my tongue, but not enough to get me to slow down.
If I’m going to sit here, I need to be at least as drunk as Adrian, if not more.
Being sober beside the man I used to date sounds like a miserable way to spend my night.
“You look like the old you,” Adrian croaks, the words slurring in a single string.
The old me he fell for. The girl who desperately wanted to escape and thought he understood that. But instead, he did everything in his power to keep me caged.
Yeah. I need to be far less sober for this conversation.
The moment my cup is refilled, I take a few deep sips and bask in the small buzz that tingles in my head.
I sigh and finally turn to face Adrian. His eyes are so open that I have to look away.
“I was still me before I put this on,” I whisper. “I think who I became in Penyth is who I always was—you just didn’t want to see it. You decided to see me one way, and that was the only version in your head that made sense.”
His face twists, and he takes a long sip from the drink clenched in his hands, his knuckles turning white.
I lower my voice and lean forward, not wanting anyone to overhear. The only good thing about being in Crea is that there are no fae with sharp senses to overhear us.
“The only thing that changed when I went to Penyth was that I found a home,” I whisper. “I found a family—found myself.”
Adrian sniffles and wipes his nose with the back of his hand.
“Family,” he slurs. There’s no anger in the word, just…
brokenness. “You left me.” His voice lowers, and he looks down at his drink, frowning.
“Graylen, too. He was my closest friend—someone who was on my side because he chose to be. Not because of who I was.”
Adrian laughs bitterly and takes a deep swig until he empties the cup. “Though I guess he was my friend for my status after all since he was looking for you.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. As angry as I’ve been with Adrian, it’s hard to ignore the pinch of guilt that stabs at my chest.
“Everyone always leaves,” he mutters beneath his breath. He lifts his empty cup to the barkeep, motioning for another round. “Thus the weight of the crown.”