Chapter 11 #2
“Matter manipulation,” Anees told her with a shrug.
“It might not be the most useful of gifts when it comes to combat, but at least I can morph plain dresses into pretty ones.” A self-deprecating chuckle followed.
“Or mend uniforms after battle. Some would call it a domestic magic, but I’d like to believe it’s a Veiled gift.
I can change the color of textiles in the blink of an eye and add details of temporary matter.
” She gestured at the flower petals at Lory’s shoulders and hips, her fingers brushing the adornments with an almost loving gesture.
“They won’t last longer than a few hours, but that’s enough for you to dazzle Ulder’s court—among others,” she amended with a wink, stepping around Lory to admire her handiwork.
Lory looked down the length of her body, full of awe as the purple of the dress shifted into a slightly lighter tone, more like the blossoms of the potted tree across the room.
“This works better with your eyes,” Anees explained with a smile, picking up a comb from the sideboard next to the mirror and beckoning Lory to sit down on the chair.
“This is amazing. Not that I have any interest in pretty dresses,” Lory clarified, rummaging through the layers of her skirts in search of a pocket or a compartment where she could hide a weapon. “Dresses are impractical for running and climbing or fighting.”
“They are,” Anees agreed with a grin, working the comb through Lory’s tresses. “They are also a perfect weapon against a court of men who believe themselves superior to women.”
Lory tilted her head in question, ignoring the tug of the comb on her hair.
“If we wear our uniforms, they’ll identify us as threats, no matter whether we’re on their side or not.
They won’t give information freely or let gossip slip.
But with a dress like this, they won’t see the skilled fighter or the magic lurking beneath your skin.
All they’ll see is a beautiful woman, and they’ll try to impress you with all they have—a sloppy dance or a nasty rumor, or their achievements.
They won’t watch their tongues the same way.
” A frown overtook her expression. “Naturally, they don’t watch their hands as much either.
You’ll need to do that for them. Permission granted to slap them if they get handsy. ”
Lory didn’t know if she should laugh or be shocked. She had never thought of a dress as an item of power. Probably because she’d never owned a dress, let alone a dress that would make people’s heads turn the way this one would.
“I know more about this mission than the Triad would like me to,” Anees admitted as she pulled Lory’s hair into an updo, pinning it with plain black clips until the few strands she’d left loose around Lory’s face were the only part that moved.
“I am aware why it’s so important for Khay to know what’s going on. Elina isn’t the only reason.”
The look in her eye told Lory Anees was privy to Khayrivven’s sympathy for the rebel girl killed at breakfast that day as much as to the leverage Ulder held over him, and while she was grateful Khayrivven hadn’t been alone in carrying this burden, a part of her reared its head with the ugly sensation of jealousy.
“It’s nothing we talk about here at Ashthorn,” Anees continued, taking the last few black pins and holding them out in her open hand.
“Too many eyes and ears roam this place.” She pulled a linen cloth from her pocket, tearing a small strip from it and slinging pieces of it through the pins before showing them to Lory. “Watch this.”
Lory didn’t dare blink as the textile of undefinable color changed into the dusty purple of her dress and formed small, shiny flowers, which Anees pinned around the wavy, black masses gathered at the back of Lory’s head, making it look like they’d caught in her hair by accident and decided to stay.
“There, only a little bit of this is missing.” With her left hand, Anees picked up a small tin, opening it and dipping a finger into golden powder before dusting Lory’s eyelids with it.
On her cheeks, she dabbed a berry-colored cream, rubbing it in small circles until her golden skin seemed to glow with the kiss of the desert wind.
With a grin, Anees gestured at Lory’s overall appearance, while Lory still struggled to recognize the lady gazing back at her from the mirror. “What do you think?”
“Perfect.”
Lory hadn’t noticed Khayrivven entering the room on stealthy feet and leaning against the wall by the door.
He had traded his uniform for a white linen tunic with a high, gold-embroidered collar and brown, fitted pants.
A midnight-blue, open waistcoat held in place by a light-brown leather belt with a buckle in the shape of the sun adorned his defined stomach.
A similar, smaller brooch was pinning the front of his tunic a few inches beneath his collarbones, leaving a sliver of skin visible at the top of his chest. Golden blossoming vines crept along the hem and the sleeves of his waistcoat, softening the contrast.
“Only one thing missing.” Khayrivven pushed away from the wall and prowled over, his gaze roaming Lory’s form, catching on to the details Anees had added with her curious gift. A foot from her, he stopped, reaching into the inside of his coat and extracting a knife the size of his palm.
Lory’s hands were trembling as he knelt in front of her, reaching for her overskirt and tugging it at her hip, at the height where her uniform pants would have a pocket. His storm-gray eyes found hers as he pinched the satin of the skirt beneath, lifting it an inch.
The expression on his features didn’t change as he noticed Lory’s teeth sink into her bottom lip at the sensation of the fabric sliding over the sensitive skin just below her hipbone, but the heat in his gaze as he lifted the knife, sliding it into a small compartment Lory hadn’t noticed there, gave away that he wasn’t indifferent to the proximity either.
“Anees always works a place for a weapon of steel into her weapons of silk and satin,” he explained with a smirk that made Lory want to run her fingers through the midnight waves tumbling over his forehead as he glanced up from under thick black lashes.
The tip of the blade caressed her skin as it sank into the folds of her skirt, the sensation driving a shiver down her spine.
Beside her, Anees cleared her throat. “Much as I appreciate the sight of you on your knees and arming your woman, Khay, if you want to make it to the palace on time, you’d better get going.”
“My woman,” Khayrivven mouthed as he rose to his full height, gesturing at the door. “Time to enter the pit of snakes of Ulder’s court.” His smile was nothing short of dazzling, his movements those of a nobleman rather than a soldier.
As he held out his arm to Lory, she was about to ask Anees if she was sure she’d beaten Khayrivven at Gilded, because the way he moved, the way he acted—this was a gentleman through and through. Except for the powerful lines of his body giving away the years he’d spent honing that luxurious body.
While Lory still debated if she should take Khayrivven’s arm, Anees ushered them out the door. “Have fun, kids,” she called after them, a laugh evident in her tone. “And don’t forget, your dress will return to its original state in a few hours.”
Khayrivven threw a winning grin over his shoulder, any sign of the mask of the cold and calculated captain he usually wore melting away. “We’ll be home by midnight, Mom.”
“Very funny.” Anees’s words followed them into the corridor and down the hall, while Lory’s heart was hammering in her chest like a violent butterfly, ready to smash her ribs as they made it to the ground floor and then to a simple, blackened door Lory had walked past hundreds of times and never once given a second thought.
With a nod, Khayrivven placed his hand flat on the steel, and it swung open, allowing Lory a view on the limestone yard spanning the space between the pyramid housing Ashthorn Ward and the pyramid that was Ulder’s seat of power.
Maybe seven hundred feet separated the two massive buildings, but Khayrivven didn’t guide her into the sweat-driving sunset until a carriage drawn by two bay horses stopped in front of them, blocking Lory’s view on the potted trees fighting for their lives in their limestone enclosures.
The amount of water needed to keep them lush and green made Lory’s head spin, but after what she’d seen at the palace the day she was captured and brought to trial in front of the Triad, nothing could easily surprise her.
Khayrivven stepped around her, opening the elegant black door of the carriage and holding out his hand to help her inside.
“My lady.” He indicated a bow, his movements the epitome of grace—a different sort of grace from the way he moved during combat and stealth training.
This was Khayrivven’s other mask, that of a man of status and societal rank.
Neither of them let on his vulnerable side, and Lory was grateful for that version of him; the raw and real version of Khayrivven Falcrest was something the world didn’t know.
A selfish part of her rejoiced in the fact that he’d chosen to show it to her.
That he had shared his secrets with her—at least some of them.
Another part of Lory reminded her that the Flame-born captain mostly remained an enigma, his reasons and motivations revealed so slowly she wasn’t sure the layers of him could be peeled back in one lifetime.
The walls were polished black and the bench cushioned with black brocade.
Black lace curtains hung in front of the windows, giving privacy while at the same time allowing her to peek outside as Khayrivven climbed into the carriage behind her, and the man on the coachman’s seat, also dressed completely in black, spurred on the horses.
“I’m surprised they didn’t choose black horses,” Lory commented as the carriage moved past the line of trees.