Avery had fussed over her wardrobe. Most of it, thankfully, was funeral appropriate, but she had scrutinized the fabric of each piece to ensure neither time nor moths had marred it. She’d opted for a black suit and gloves, which was tradition, but began doubting herself with each step she took down the stairs. “Is this appropriate?” were the first words out of her mouth when Saga opened her door to her.
Saga took a step back to properly examine her. “I’d lose the jacket.”
Avery balked, horrified. “Lose the…”
“I don’t mean get rid of it permanently,” Saga defended quickly. “You just might not want to wear it to the funeral.”
“What’s wrong with my coat?” Avery smoothed down her lapels self-consciously. “I’ll have you know it was tailored by one of the best snips in London back in my day.”
“That’s exactly my point. It has tails, at best it looks like some kind of tuxedo, at worst like a costume. It’s beautiful but might make you stick out too much, and you want to blend in.” Saga, on the other hand, was still in some kind of pajama, her hair bundled around rods and tucked into a silk scarf. “You look stunning, but it might be worth investing in something just a bit more modern.”
The word “stunning” was a balm to her ego, but Avery still found herself reluctantly shrugging off her coat. “Am I so far out of fashion? Will I shame you?”
“No!” Saga had undone the scarf and was unwinding her hair from therods one by one. “I just mean… Maybe if we end up going undercover more often, you might want clothing fromthiscentury.”
There was logic in her words, but it still made Avery feel vaguely self-conscious. She gently laid her coat on the back of the plush armchair and strode to examine herself in the decorative mirror near the door. Perhaps the coat had been too much. She remembered the suit Reza had worn the day they met—or even Fiore’s. Neither had a coat like this one. Modern suits often cut their coat hems at a uniform length, no tails at all. She tugged at the plain black vest and scrutinized her cravat. The white shirtsleeves felt too exposed. “What if I wore my overcoat?”
“If that makes you more comfortable, I think that could work.” Her hair now a bounce of ringlets, Saga moved back toward the bedroom. “I need to finish getting ready!”
Satisfied that her vest looked as presentable as possible, Avery considered her boots. Saga hadn’t said anything about her footwear, so she was hopeful that meant it was appropriate. She pursed her lips, wondering if she should call the woman out to look at her again, but decided against it.
At least her hair was cooperating. The curl in particular was rather pleasing. When she’d cast her glamour that morning, she’d only had to change the shade rather than fight with the style. There had been more than one frustrated occasion where Avery had trusted the illusion to hide her mess of untamed curls and simply hoped no one aimed a hagstone in her direction.
Now there was a thought. She pondered the coat on the chair. She could also glamour hercoat, and that would solve any issues of looking out of time. She just had to know what to mimic. “Do you have any photographs of a modern suit?” She called back to Saga.
“What?”
“So I can mimic it. I need visual stimuli in order to pattern the illusion after it.”
“You want to use an illusion spell to make your coat look more modern?” Saga emerged, curious and altered. The dress she’d chosen had a hem thatstopped above the knees, and she’d pulled a black cardigan on as well to cover her shoulders. She’d brushed out the ringlets, and now her hair fell in waves down her back.
Avery wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Saga’s hair unrestrained; it was full and beautiful, and oddly captivating the way it moved as she walked. “It would be economical.” The idea felt far more silly now. Vain. She wasn’t comfortable with the idea of Saga thinking she was vain…regardless how true it might have been.
“I could look for a picture.”
“No,” Avery dismissed. “Don’t trouble yourself. If you say I look well, then I believe you.” Even if it meant leaving one of her best coats behind.
“We should have some sort of cover story,” said Saga, joining Avery at the small mirror and raking her fingers through the fringe that draped just above her eyes and framed her face.
“You don’t think telling them you brought me because I’m investigating a series of murders and they’re all suspects will suffice?” asked Avery wryly.
Saga produced a small compact and proceeded to put a different finger into each of the four golden shades within it. She dabbed color on her eyelids quickly, smudging and blending them together with an artist’s hand. “No, I would wager no one will want to talk to either of us if we go that route.”
Avery shrugged. “We will simply say I am your escort.”
Saga’s face scrunched at this.
Had the suggestion been in poor taste? “Your aunt is going as well, correct? She could pose as our chaperone, if you like.”
“Oh, you mean you’d be mydate.” There was such a sound of clarification in Saga’s voice, yet the word did not make sense to Avery in this context.
“I am not following.”
“You want us to pose as if we were a couple engaging in romantic courtship?” Saga brushed her eyelashes with some kind of black paint.
The design of the brush in particular caught Avery’s attention—she’dseen many makeup techniques, but she was far more used to Saga’s previous application method of merely utilizing the fingertips. “Yes…” said Avery, intrigued by the convenient advances ingenuity had applied to even cosmetics. “It seems the best way to avoid unnecessary questions. Unless it makes you uncomfortable, of course.”
Saga had now brought out what looked like some kind of lip pomade. “No, of course not. Why would that make me uncomfortable?” She glided the stick over her lips carefully. It did not shift the color much beyond giving the natural olive brown shade of her lips a more dusky rose complexion, as well as a soft sheen. She pressed her lips together then allowed her face to relax before she reviewed her artistry with a critical eye. “We should avoid the word ‘escort,’ though. It tends to have a more ‘I paid you to be here’ sort of connotation these days.”
