Her boxy headdress was torn off first, revealing a crop of shorn hair. A shade or two lighter than mine, but curly,masculine. The drachma dropped.
Then came the bell and the belt before she started to fiddle with the fastenings of her dress. A glimpse of undergarments, and I averted my eyes, finding Adelaide, who was rootingthrough her skirts? A bundle of something hit me squarely in the chest, thrown by the larger sister, and I looked up to find her in nothing more than a slip.
Clicking her large fingers, she pointed to the ball of clothes at my feet. Adelaide mimicked dressing, her fingers coming hither in a silent bid to hurry me along.
“You…you want me to put on her clothes?”They nodded, eyes intent on the door.
“I… Well, fuck me, alright then.” I got dressed quickly and as best as I could, but I must’ve done something wrong, for all three of them swarmed me, fussing to adjust the headdress and bodice. The gown fell to my arms, to my feet, thankfully covering the dusting of hair.
The tall one hoisted my skirts, and I squealed.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She stood back and opened each hand. From some unknown place she’d acquired two apples and a swathe of linen.
“And just where do you think you’re putting those?” Her devilish grin was answer enough, and a small light in the dark.
“Adelaide, I—” That earned me a sharp knock to the arm before she helped bind the fruit to my chest, effectively breastifying me. After a moment, the sisters stepped back, eyes gleaming as they admired their handiwork.
Good enough, they seemed to say, though their contorted brows instilled little confidence.
Adelaide approached me with a small razor-like blade and a bar of soap from the basin next to the slugs, readying to shear me like a sheep. “You may want to leave just a smidge.” I gestured to my upper lip and nudged towards the naked sister, whose nose wrinkled as she shucked on my shirt. “Just here…you know, for the sake of authenticity.”
Whilst she shaved me with careful hands, despite our rush, the sister in my shirt seated herself in the chair of ropes, the othersister binding her. A seedling of guilt sprouted as I realised she was to act in my stead, as I was to hers. As soon as an acolyte faced her, the deception would be clear, but for anyone peeking through the door, the back of her might be enough.
Cautiously, I fondled the apples, checking if they were even. Adelaide smacked me away, face stern. I beamed at her.
With a steadying breath, she stepped back, surveying me one last time. Satisfied, she shuffled to the chair, palm resting lightly on the tall sister’s cheek. Her other fingers moved with agile speed, signing something I could neither understand nor had any business knowing, for it was not mine to know. Their foreheads pressed together for a heartbeat, and then Adelaide detached herself, giving the other sister a small peck on the cheek.Returned to my side, I faced them, vision obscured somewhat by the flap of the headdress.“You have my thanks, sisters. I shall not forget this.” They nodded, the worry in their eyes most likely for Adelaide rather than me.We turned, my sister’s hand woven with mine. With my other, I stroked her face, thumbing the pit where the biggest of her buttons had been.
“Fuck the Dendralis,” I vowed.
She opened the door.
Chapter thirty-two
Demetri
The Great Hall
Put a blade to your throat if you are given to appetite.-23:20 Book of Dendralis
“Are all breasts this uncomfortable?” I whispered, readjusting where the right apple had dug into a rib.
The clipping of Adelaide’s soles quietened, and I crashed into her back. She spun, shooting a finger to her lips, face creased in a scowl. Following the sweep of her restless gaze, I eyed the paxiam armour lining the Ovidian walls, hollow helms glaring down at us. We were alone. No one else in the cloister save the empty, red-steeled chests glinting in the moonlight. I allowed myself a shudder.
“Is she close?” I asked, the words no more than a breath. This place was built for the dark, small crevices and alcoves carved into every turn. I’d attempted to catalogue the route, but after the sixth or seventh turnpike, it all congealed into one dark smear of passages and stone. It was as I suspected: a fucking rat’s nest.
Adelaide motioned to keep my eyes down and follow, squeezing her lips between forefinger and thumb. I nodded, following her down with every inch of demureness I could muster, which most likely wasn’t enough. It would have to be.
Two doors melded by iron, rusting at their edges and stapled with interlocking squares, blocked the end of the walkway. Adelaide paused, turning on her heel and cupped my face, her eyes lidded with concern.
“Silent,” she mouthed, tugging my headdress a little further over my face and adjusting the bodice. I pulled at the sleeves until only the tips of my fingers peeked from under the cloth. I heaved a breath, preparing for what I would say when I saw her.
I found you. I found you. I found you.
With one last warning pinch to her lips, she faced the door and tapped on one of the blocks, rapping a series of beats in a distinct rhythm. A secret code? Clever girl.
A slot scraped open, and I held my breath, awaiting the silhouette of wild, slate hair and large, moss-green eyes.
Instead, the boxed headdress of a sister haloed its gap. I kept the air in my lungs, not daring a breath, and shot my eyes to the floor.The deep chatter of men poured through the opening.
