CHAPTER 13 #3
I banished every one of those thoughts, forcing myself to stop stalling, to stop picking at my nails, and simply get dressed.
Clothes. Focus on the clothes.
Finnegan was always in formal wear. Grey blazer, tailored trousers. So I did what I’d got used to doing. I asked my closet for clothes. I knew it had understood when I said professional, because the drawer slid open to reveal a dark pencil skirt, a crisp white blouse, and a pair of stockings.
I slid them on, impressed at how perfectly they fit.
The skirt hugged my hips with tailored precision, no awkward gaping at the waist like I’d come to expect.
It was rare for something to fit this well, given the curve of my hips.
The hem skimmed just above my knees, and the blouse was loose enough to be comfortable but still managed to skim my figure.
I tucked it into the skirt, feeling my palms sweat.
I twisted my hair back into a low ponytail, loosening a few strands so it wouldn’t look too stiff. But I knew I would be stiff. I was a stiff person who liked to be prepared. I had prepared considerably before travelling to the Capital.
So much for that.
With my pulse ticking a little faster, I left my chambers and headed down to the grand foyer. As I reached the top of the staircase, Reagan was already there, rummaging through one of two duffel bags.
He glanced up. “Good. You’re ready.”
He was dressed head-to-toe in black. Tailored trousers, a button-up shirt that clung just right, and a dark cloak that swept around him like a shadow. His hair was still damp from the bath, unruly strands falling against his forehead.
Reagan approached me at the foot of the stairs, his gaze sweeping over me, pausing on the skirt. “You look . . . like an emissary.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Good. Remind me to thank the closet.”
I wasn’t actually expecting a compliment.
He went on, “The Barrows will receive us at Erisea Hall, and they’ll likely invite us for breakfast, so I’d suggest we skip eating here.”
He seemed completely unfazed by what had happened earlier, while I could feel my cheeks heating up. I wasn’t even sure why. I didn’t really understand what had happened, only how it had made me feel. Soothed. Relaxed.
“Do they know I’m not like you?” I asked when he raised my dark burgundy cloak that appeared in his hands.
“Yes, they’ve heard about you already.”
My stomach fluttered at the thought of being the subject of their conversations.
Reagan must have noticed my hesitation, because he added, “You’ll be fine.”
Phantom fingers curled over my shoulder. The touch no longer made me recoil. In fact, it felt a little too good for comfort. I wouldn’t put it past him to have used his power to confuse me. Principles or not.
“But we should discuss some agreements before we leave,” Reagan said, the touch vanishing.
“What agreements?”
“About working together. First, you will wear this,” he said, holding a silver necklace with a medallion in his palm. “Don’t remove this while we’re there. It’s supposed to be a protection for you.”
I turned my back to him, lifting my hair out of the way.
“Why do I need protection?” I asked.
He said nothing. At that same moment, as I glanced over my shoulder, Reagan placed the necklace around my neck and fastened it.
“I’m not sure what the situation in Erisea is. If people notice you, we might need to be careful.” He sounded tenser than usual, tugging on my arm so I would turn to face him again. “This medallion is also a location relic that can tell me where you are, but only if you rub it. It’s a precaution.”
A relic. I looked down at the silver medallion, its surface etched with symbols I didn’t recognise, each line engraved beautifully. I nearly forgot the warning in his tone.
“Secondly, you’ll stay with me at all times,” Reagan said firmly. “I can’t protect you if I lose you.”
Or if I tried to sneak out, though he left that unspoken. His tone was calm, no teasing edge this time. It sounded strangely like concern.
“Careful,” I said breezily. “Someone might think you are worrying about a little human.”
The crease in his forehead smoothed out.
“Worrying is hardly the word I’d use,” Reagan said, his tone lighter. “It’s more like keeping track of my liability.”
“Liability? I thought I was more of an asset to you.”
He gave a low laugh, his gaze flicking over me appraisingly. “We’ll see about that. Still want to come?”
My fingers dug into my damp palms. “Isn’t it too late to change your plans now?” I asked.
But Cerridwen’s voice drifted from the adjoining room at that very moment.
“I hear you’re leaving already,” she said, stepping into view. “Don’t let Coriander ask you too many questions. He is too curious about humans.”
My eyes darted to him, the question clear on my face.
“Answer if you want or don’t,” Reagan answered coolly. “Don’t worry about Coriander.”
“Off you go, then,” Cerridwen said, already leaving us.
I took in a deep breath, gripping the side of his cloak before the room around us vanished, and the air went dark. Nausea filled me, and I pressed against him for the next eight seconds until we arrived.