“What are you fellas talking about in here?” Fatima asked, reaching for one of the bottles, but Jared shooed her hand away.
“Just work,” I said.
“Jared’s favourite topic,” Fatima said, helping us start to carry the cups to the table. “If I had a pound for every time he geeked out over a spreadsheet, we could pay off this house.”
We set the mead out, making sure there was one of each number in front of each seat. Then we called in the others for the tasting.
I was surprised to discover I actually liked some mead. I’d always turned my nose up at what Chloe ordered, but apparently that was because she liked sweet and semi-sweet meads, whereas I preferred dry ones. Most importantly, Phil begrudgingly had to admit that he could, in fact, taste the difference.
Morgan seemed to be enjoying herself, though I tried to force myself not to just stare at her the whole time – half because I didn’t want to freak her out, and half because I could feel Jared’s gaze bouncing between us like he was watching a Wimbledon match.
After the tasting, everyone pulled out their presents for Chloe, and she did a terrible job of pretending like she hadn’t been expecting anything. Grey got her some new dice, naturally, not that either of them needed any more. Fatima (and, nominally, Jared) got her some fancy stationery with her initials on it. Morgan got her a plant pot with illustrated boobs on the side, tiny gold hearts forming the nipples. Phil and I had got all the mead and food, but I had something for her from Mum and Amy: a pair of dangling earrings made of silver wire wrapped around red-and-white-banded stones.
“I was instructed to tell you,” I said, pulling out my phone, “that not only is sardonyx your true birthstone, but that if you”—I cleared my throat as I got to the part she would know for sure hadn’t come from me—“charge it under the full moon, it will help protect you from any and all toxicity that would threaten to come into your life.”
“Thank you, Amy and Patricia,” Chloe said, slipping her existing earrings out so she could put the new ones in. I took a picture and sent it to Mum and Amy.
Just as everyone started to get up from their seats so Phil could start dinner, mutterings of giant Jenga in the garden making their way around the table, Phil cleared his throat.
“Just a minute,” he said, gesturing for everyone to sit back down, which they did obediently. He left the room and came back with the giant storage bin, setting it down heavy in the middle of the table.
“Is that for me?!” Chloe asked with a gasp.
“Part of it,” he said. “I know I said I wouldn’t have them ready until closer to the trip,” he said, and Fatima and Grey, clearly seeing where this was heading, squealed quietly and leaned towards one another in glee. Phil continued. “I’ve got your costumes ready for your first fitting. If you could please try them on, I can pin them and see if anything needs to be altered.”
He took the lid off the box, and everyone leaned forward to see inside, but there were just brown parcels with each person’s name scrawled across them. He took them out one by one and handed them to us.
Since we were all sleeping over, per Chloe’s request, everyone dashed off to the rooms they’d be sharing. Phil and I always bunked in the twin guest room together when we stayed over, but when he didn’t follow me, I went alone to our room upstairs, shutting the door behind me.
I untied the twine holding the parcel together and unwrapped the costume, running my fingers over the fabric. I could already tell it was beyond anything I would have expected or hoped. There was what looked like a white shirt, and a folded brown garment I suspected was trousers, and the hero piece: the jacket. I’d known roughly what it would look like from the drawings Morgan had done, but I hadn’t been prepared for how well it would translate to real life.
I set the pile down on the bed and pulled on the trousers and shirt, then slipped the jacket on over my shoulders, doing up the buckles at the front. One of the shoulder ties was undone, and I tried to contort myself to tie it, to no avail. I’d just decided to take it off when I heard a knock at the door, which I assumed was Phil there to check the outfit.
“I need to tie the shoulders,” I said as I swung the door open, but when I looked up, it wasn’t Phil standing there.
It was Morgan, and she looked fucking incredible.
I was surprised at first; I knew she’d wanted to keep her outfit a surprise, but I’d thought Phil had been working on chain mail for her. But this was as far from a suit of armour as possible – almost. The blue strapless dress was tight around Morgan’s torso, then flared out at her hips to brush the ground. Small ivory and gold flowers were stitched into the fabric every several inches of the dress. Her hair was behind her shoulders, showing off a piece of blue lace that wrapped around her neck like a choker, gold stitching following the lines and bringing out the pattern. The lace gave way to dozens of delicate gold chains, all interconnected, draping across her chest and around her shoulders. It gave the illusion of armour, despite the sweetness of the dress.
“What happened to the chain mail?” I asked, unable to hide my awe.
“That’s for my Morgana outfit,” she said. “This is the idea I had for the second day. I know it’s a little unconventional for a Ren Faire?—”
“It’s perfect,” I said, my eyes still roaming. If I’d thought I’d admired the lines of her body before, this gown was another story entirely. It looked so light, like I could rip it with the slightest touch; and that thought, of course, brought lots of mental images rushing in that I could have done without.
Phil was a fucking genius.
I tried to form words, but none seemed to come, and I gulped instead. Morgan smiled at the floor, her face pink.
“It’s pretty great, isn’t it,” she admitted. “And it already fits perfectly.”
“Beautiful,” I said, and it came out all choked.
“I saw Chloe’s before I came in,” she said, “and it’s suitably slutty. She’s thrilled. This came out really cool, too.” She reached out to run her pinched fingers along the edge of my jacket, her knuckles brushing against me through my shirt.
“The shoulders aren’t tied up properly,” I said, turning to show her.
“Here, let me,” she said, pushing past me into the room. I hesitated for a moment before closing the door again behind her.
