Their work was much the same as it had been after the bath, except more ferocious. I was stripped bare, then re-covered one bit of fabric at a time. Strings were tied, laces pulled taut. The bodice was just high enough to hide the scratches I’d made across my chest; the Aetheric residue, at least, was less visible today. But the sleeves were as tight as those of the prince’s jacket had been on the trip to Vhrania.
And that was only the beginning. There were stockings and shoes, and my hair was brushed until my scalp ached, then pulled back at the temples and secured with a pretty golden comb probably worth more than my bond. I wondered if the prince would let me have it as a souvenir. The rest hung down my back in soft waves, and they’d added a red salve to my cheeks and lips.
“You look lovely,” Talia said, then moved out of the way and spun me to face the looking glass.
We didn’t spend much time in front of mirrors, Wren and me, but I still hardly recognized the person who stared back. Istill looked like me, but everything had been enhanced a little. My wavy hair shone, and the color in my cheeks made me look less like a victim of the Aetheric practitioner.
There was a knock at the door. Orda opened it and found Wren and Galen standing in the passageway. Both looked unhappy to be there.
“I’m here for the damned party,” Wren said, gorgeous in a long dress of deep red-black and an overrobe embroidered with gold at the hems.
“You are stunning,” I said.
“I know.” She looked me up and down. “You look good, too.”
I did a little curtsy.
“Gently bow your head,” Talia said. “Keep your back straight and bend the knees.” She demonstrated, her move perfectly elegant.
“Are you the steward or master of etiquette?” I muttered.
“As far as you’re concerned, both.”
“Ridiculous,” I muttered. “Talia and Orda, this is Wren. They tortured me into this dress.”
“Worth it,” Orda murmured.
Wren pulled a wrapped parcel from her pocket and handed it to me. It was still warm and smelled of bread and spices. “Flatbread from the eastern market.”
“There will be food at the celebration,” Galen said.
“That’s home-cooked,” Wren said.
“By a market seller.”
“No food or grease on the dress,” Talia said, snatching the packet away. She tossed it to Orda. “Have a snack.”
I muttered a curse, and Talia cleared her throat. “You are expected,” she reminded us. “You should go.”
“Thank you for the help,” I told Talia and Orda.
“You’re welcome. If you need help unpinning or unbuttoning, have the guard call us.”
“I’ll figure it out,” I said, because I had no doubt Wren had stowed a knife somewhere in that gown.
“Let’s go,” Galen said impatiently. Then he turned on his heel, expecting us to trot behind him like trained hounds.
Wren rolled her eyes. “Insufferable.”
“He’s mad because I nicked his bracelet yesterday. But I gave it back.”
“That’s what he gets for letting a thief into the palace,” Wren murmured.
“Did the Lady come?” I asked as we moved through the passageways toward the center dome. There were more soldiers around today, an additional precaution in case the practitioner decided to take a chance.
“Arriving by carriage,” Wren said. “She wanted to be escorted through the front door with the other fancies.” She surveyed the palace as we followed Galen, taking in the arches and mosaics and tapestries. “Speaking of fancies.”
“I know. We could live off just one of these tapestries.”
