Chapter 25
Corinne stared at the dressmaker’s door from down the corridor, fighting the panic that she’d tried to quell with every step.
The previous day had passed without incident, other than Aryel being a little quieter than usual while they trained.
He’d continued to improve with swordplay at an impressive rate.
Upon waking, however, Corinne recalled that she needed to report to the dressmaker. And that taking her measurements meant disrobing.
She fought tears as she gripped her right forearm, the light fabric of her long sleeve the only barrier she had to hide her scar. She didn’t have any bandages on hand, and how would she explain wearing one as a healer, anyway?
“Oh, hi, Corinne—sorry!”
She flinched and whirled around to face Nik, who she hadn’t heard approaching. He nearly dropped the books in his hands at Corinne’s reaction.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, adjusting his now-lopsided glasses.
Corinne tried to rein in her distress, but it broke free at the genuine kindness on Nik’s face.
“I’m supposed to go to a fitting,” she said quietly. “But I don’t want to…I can’t take my shirt off.”
Nik placed his stack of books on the ground by the wall. He held out a hand, golden rings glinting in the morning sunlight filtering through a nearby window. Despite realizing his gaze had slid to where her left hand clenched her forearm, Corinne loosened her grip and placed her right hand in his.
“You know, I’m not an expert on Lightguard culture,” Nik said.
“But I was curious after you returned from the monastery and stopped speaking to us all. I found a few books and read about ways they punish their own when they apparently stray from their teachings. I also noticed you stopped wearing tunics or shirts without sleeves.”
Corinne fought the tears that threatened to breach the surface. He knew. He’d cared enough to discover why she’d pulled away from them all, and he’d known this whole time.
“Is it your arm?” he asked, his voice soft.
Corinne managed a nod.
“Faye, the dressmaker, is very kind. I believe if you tell her you’re simply not comfortable removing your shirt, she won’t press the issue.”
A bit of Corinne’s heart unclenched. “You’re sure?”
Nik nodded with a small smile. “I’m sure she’ll still need to get close, but with the style of summer dresses especially, she won’t need your full arm measurement anyway.”
Corinne took a deep breath. Summer dresses. She would need to find a solution to wearing a dress with shorter sleeves before the ball, but she could worry about that later.
“Thank you, Nik,” she whispered.
“Happy to help,” he said with another smile. “Also, Faye is kind, but she doesn’t like getting off schedule, so I’d head inside if I were you.”
He squeezed Corinne’s fingers once before letting her hand drop, bending to retrieve his books. Corinne bid him goodbye before turning back toward the dressmaker’s door. Just stand your ground, Corinne.
Stay the course. Be the Light.
She’d lifted her hand to knock when the door swung open and a short, pale woman with round cheeks appeared, immediately craning her neck to look at Corinne. She placed her hands on her wide hips and raised her dark brown eyebrows.
“Goddess, you’ll need a lot of fabric.”
Faye shuffled Corinne inside quickly, directing her toward a small raised platform in the center of the green-carpeted room. A large multi-panel mirror had been erected in front of it, below one of the four windows on the far wall.
“I don’t often have to make gowns for people as tall as you,” Faye said, wrapping her peppery brown hair in a twist before placing an ornate, sharp stick through the center to hold it in place.
She walked over to a wall that was absolutely cascading with rolls of fabric.
Corinne stared at them all, admiring several bright greens and blues that reminded her of the mountains and the sky.
Faye extracted a small square of white gossamer material, followed by a swatch of gold fabric, before returning to Corinne and holding them up to her face.
“You’ll look perfectly lovely in your normal colors,” she said, eyes sharp and assessing. “The gold with those eyes of yours…stunning, really.”
Faye said it with such casual certainty, and both satisfaction and guilt rose within Corinne at once. She shouldn’t want to feel as beautiful as the noble guests who would be in attendance, but the idea of feeling both powerful in her physical strength and in her appearance was undeniably alluring.
“Yes,” Faye said, mostly to herself. “I think the idea I had in mind will work nicely. Let’s take your measurements, then, and you can be on your way.”
Corinne swallowed hard. “I…would it be all right if I leave my shirt on?”
Faye lifted her eyebrows again, but she shrugged a shoulder. “Whatever makes you comfortable, dearie,” she said. “Just know it may take me a little longer.”
Corinne nodded quickly. “Of course. Whatever you need.”
Faye measured what Corinne imagined to be every possible inch of her, making use of a white ribbon with little notches and numbers drawn on it. She stood in stoic silence the entire time Faye worked, relieved that Nik’s advice had worked, and grateful that Faye moved with quiet efficiency.
“Wonderful,” Faye murmured, making a final note on a little piece of parchment. “That’s all, dearie. Come back morning after tomorrow and I’ll have a preliminary fitting, make sure everything is working well, and it should be done the morning of the ball.”
Corinne exhaled. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” Faye said, nodding once.
The morning sun promised oppressive heat for later in the day as Corinne headed across the breezeway toward the alcove, the air heavy with humidity.
She hoped Aryel would be open to training indoors—sparring outside in a long-sleeved tunic would be brutal, even in the milder summer heat of the mountainous Vytanos.
She waited outside his door after relieving the overnight guard, still hardly daring to believe her luck in finding Nik before her fitting.
A bit of guilt still weighed in her gut; was it right for her to feel relief in hiding her shame as a Lightguard, finding comfort in a friend helping her hide it?
That’s part of Her Light too.
How could Helaera’s light be in the vulnerability she exhibited around her friends, around Aryel, and also in the discipline of the Lightguards? Corinne’s head spun, but she couldn’t let the uncertainty spiral in her thoughts, not right now.
She shook her head and realized Aryel had not emerged yet. Normally by now he’d woken…perhaps something had happened, and he’d been out drinking late last night. Corinne’s heart sank. He hadn’t done that in a few weeks, now.
Steeling herself, she knocked on his door. He didn’t answer. Corinne said a silent prayer before turning the knob anyway; they would be late if he didn’t wake soon.
“Aryel?” she called, peeking her head inside.
Beyond his antechamber, his room was dim, the curtains on his windows and balcony drawn. Corinne cursed herself and stepped inside.
He was lying in bed in a heap, only half of him covered by the blankets. Corinne tried not to stare at the smooth skin of his back, at the intricate lines of his tattoos, at his dark, tousled hair on his sleeping face. Helaera help me. She stepped forward and nudged his shoulder.
“Ari,” she hissed. He stirred only slightly, so she nudged him harder. “Ari, wake up!”
His face scrunched up, and he inhaled sharply. “Corinne?”
“You’re going to be late for your meeting with Councilor Toro,” she said, ignoring how her heart skipped a beat at him murmuring her name.
Aryel groaned, finally opening his eyes.
“Fuck,” he said when his gaze landed on Corinne, scrambling upright in bed. He yanked a large pillow in front of him, holding it on his lap. “Goddess, Corinne, can you give me a moment?”
Cheeks flushing, Corinne backed away. “I— sorry. I’ll be outside.”
Corinne hurried out of his rooms, letting her back hit the door after it shut and wishing to the goddess she’d just melt into the stones below her feet.
Walking into his room uninvited had been deeply foolish.
Now she’d crossed a boundary and made him uncomfortable, made him upset with her after they’d made such progress.
Before she could gather herself, the knob turned on the door, and she went tumbling backward as it opened. Aryel caught her before she’d fallen too far, his arms wrapped around her waist, her back against his chest.
“You and doors, Sunshine,” he said, helping her stand upright again. “Your mortal enemy, it seems.”
The humor in his eyes dispelled her worry somewhat. She cleared her throat. “Sorry if I intruded.”
He shrugged, but Corinne didn’t miss the slight blush in his cheeks. “No apology necessary. Sorry I snapped at you a bit. I’m not particularly pleasant right after I’ve woken.”
Corinne was tempted to remind him of the second time they’d met, when he’d called her my own personal hell just after Orana had gotten him out of bed, but refrained from doing so.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said instead, and he offered her a smirk.
The meeting with Councilor Toro went as smoothly as Corinne might have hoped; the Lightguards in Orynas had arrived the day prior, and she helped Aryel draft a letter of instructions for them. If all went as planned, food would be on its way to the northwestern villages in a matter of days.
“I am ever grateful to both of you for your assistance,” Councilor Toro said, closing a book and standing from their shared table at the library. “And I’m certain the Asherans in the northwest will be grateful as well.”
Aryel shook his head. “Food isn’t a gift. I wish this hadn’t been an issue in the first place, but I certainly don’t want accolades for providing such basic necessities to my people.”
“Even so,” Councilor Toro said. “I thank you. Perhaps when this mess with the castle lockdown has ended, you and Corinne both could join us at my home for dinner.”