Her tone is more curious than judgmental, so I decide to break my silence. “My mother's was the same color,” I tell her. “Her mother was originally from Port Caven, in the Kingdom of Solvare. The Veil Sea that borders that region shines a dark, purplish-grey most nights, supposedly because of the influence of the seafaring dragons who live beneath its waves. For generations, parents ritualistically dipped their children into those waters, and most of those children ended up with hair the same color as the sea. They were healthier, too. Stronger, faster, smarter…and after some time, children started to be born with this color hair.” I shrug. “That's the legend, anyway.”
What I don't mention—and what she likely already knows—is how that region is scarcely inhabited now, the supposedly benevolent dragons long gone. The Mouren Army overtook the region decades ago, because of its valuable location as the trading port closest to the neighboring Empire of Castere.
It's how my grandmother ended up in Halvgate; she was like so many others fleeing, trying to find a place where Mouren's claws couldn't reach them.
“Stronger, faster, smarter…” Kestrel repeats. “I'm not convinced you inherited those traits. Maybe we could go dip you in that sea for good measure.”
“And maybe you could drown yourself in it while we're there.”
She smirks, adjusting a few of the curls framing my face. “Well, the hair color is pretty, at least.”
“Did you just…compliment me?”
“I was mostly complimenting the work I've done.” She steps back, assessing her handiwork. “And I'll put the finishing touches on it closer to the event, once you're otherwise dressed. Try not to make too much of a mess of yourself in the meantime.”
With that, she leaves me in order to go start getting ready herself.
Sighing, I circle the room in a bit of a daze, trying to get used to the weight of my hair and makeup. It already feels like I've put on a full, suffocating disguise, and it's not even complete yet.
Coming to a stop in front of the mirrored wardrobe, I absently run my fingers along it, tracing the carved vines and flowers, the brushed gold knobs. This wardrobe has been slowly filling since the day I arrived in this palace, with more and more clothes appearing as if by magic—yet there's nothing in it that Kestrel deemed fancy enough for the evening ahead.
As luck would have it, though, a gown worthy of the occasion is due to be completed this very morning. Although, I'm not convinced it was entirelyluck; I suspect the king ordered it to be finished immediately after that morning we spent together in his room. As if he already knew I would ultimately agree to his offer.
I clench the wardrobe's handle, annoyed. I would havebeen fine in something simple. An elaborate gown feels like a waste.
“Apparently,wastefulis the theme for the evening,” I tell my reflection.
But when the gown in question arrives later that afternoon—just in time for a quick fitting and some minor adjustments—I can't keep myself from staring at it, marveling at the fact that I get to wear something so…incredible.
It's one of the most beautiful garments I've ever seen, and once I slip it on and step toward the standing mirror, I can once again do nothing but stare.
The floor-length gown is crimson overlaid with sheer fabric, featuring gold embellishments branching out around the waist. It's layered, with strategically heavier panels providing an elegant bit of modesty, while the more sheer layers reveal shimmering stretches of skin. Fabric drapes down from a high collar beaded with gold, flowing over one shoulder. My other shoulder is bare, and my back is daringly exposed as well, nothing covering it except a few trailing golden branches, a continuation of the ones hugging the front of the dress.
Kestrel regards me with a rare look of approval when she returns a few minutes later, while I'm still busy staring at my reflection and trying to convince myself that it's actuallymestaring back.
The princess is even more stunning than usual, dressed in a flowing gown of deep sapphire. As usual, she has the dragon-scale accessories covering her shoulder, neck, and forearm, but they're fancier than any I've seen before, seemingly molded from pure, delicate sheets of gold.
“This is going to drive him crazy,” she says, circling me,her hand tucked under her chin as she appraises my look. “He won't be able to keep his hands off you.”
Heat sweeps from the top of my head down to the tips of my toes. “That isn't part of our plan for the evening.”
She takes a flute of sparkling wine from a tray one of the servants has left. “Which will make it all the more entertaining forme, watching him struggle to keep his composure. He's been too cocky lately; maybe you can humble him a bit more.”
“I can't imagine him losing his composure over adress.”
“You should see his composure when he talks aboutyou,” she mutters, taking a sip of her drink.
“…He talks about me?” I nearly drop the delicate gold bracelet I'm attempting to fasten. “I mean, of course he does; there's plenty to talk about between my magic, and my dragon, and our agreement, and…um….”
She regards me with that cutting, pointed look she does so well—the one that leaves no doubts about how stupid she thinks I am.
I narrow all of my focus on the bracelet while she proceeds to rattle off the evening's itinerary: the guests I should be aware of; the food and drink I would be better off avoiding; the topics of conversation that are safest to stick to.
It suddenly feels more like I'm being prepped for a job rather than attending a party. Which is fine by me, considering I'm much more experienced at the former.
Briar joins us in the middle of this briefing, and it makes things seem even more familiar—though we've never had any jobs that require us to look anything quite like this.
“I clean up nicely, don't I?” she asks, spinning to show off her emerald green dress, a simpler design than mine but no less elegant. Her short hair is secured away from her facewith a delicate, emerald-studded comb, and her eyes are accented with bronze shimmer that makes their bright hazel color pop even more than usual.
