Page 23 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

I stare at my reflection, admiring the beautiful gown. “Yes, ma’am.”

She snorts. “Enough with the ma’am. My name is Cynthia.”

“Nice to meet you, Cynthia. I’m Elara.”

She huffs an acknowledging sound.

Then she tugs on my sleeve before shoving a different dress against my chest. “Try this one.”

I do as she says.

In minutes, I’m back on the platform.

This time, Cynthia’s critical eye zeroes in on the end of the long sleeve. “Ah, too short. But perhaps three-quarter sleeves shall work.”

She shoves up the fabric before I can stop her.

Her focus lands on the dark marks marring my flesh. “And what are these?”

My pulse spikes, and I lie on instinct. “Tattoos.”

“Those are”—her gaze lingers—“very unique.”

“Indeed,” I choke out around the lump in my throat.

For a terrifying moment, I worry she recognizes Rian’s marks. That she knows I’m tied to a Shadow Fae.

I brace myself to run—to race to the tavern and warn Jaxon and Darius that we’ve been discovered.

But just as soon as a calculating gleam sparks in Cynthia’s gaze, it dissipates.

Her expression shutters. “No short sleeves, then. I won’t have those marks detracting from the beauty of one of my dresses.”

Relief loosens the vise around my lungs. “Very well.”

She turns, shuffles back to the rack of dresses, and retrieves two more. One is a rich crimson that is much too bold for my liking, but after I try it on, I have to admit it complements my light hair and fair skin well.

The second is a pale-blue gown that Cynthia says brings out the blue in my eyes. Both have long sleeves that should feel stifling, but the magical fabric is so breathable that I barely notice them.

“These are lovely,” I tell her with a smile. “Thank you.”

I step off the platform, already lamenting the fact that I’ll be changing back into my crumpled dress, when Cynthia’s wrinkled hand lands on my arm.

“Wear this gown.” She thrusts the navy-blue dress into my hands. “It’ll be good for my business.”

With a small grin, I oblige.

After I change, I step out from behind the curtain with my old dress in my arms. Cynthia wraps the other two gowns in light-brown paper.

She looks up and hums. “That will do.”

I tuck my chin and smile.

“That will be ten silvers.”

Blood drains from my face. “Pardon?”

“Don’t fret, girl.” She smirks. “Your man’s purse has plenty of coin, I’m sure.”