Page 64 of Carousel

“Yes?”

My voice shakes a little. “Would you do up the back for me, please? With bow knots?”

I glance over my shoulder.

He’s looking at me over his.

The simple cream shirt he’s put on, which could well be one issued to all soldiers, is half undone.

He lets go of the button he’d been fiddling with and comes over to me. I stay facing the wall, trying to remain as still as I can, which seems to be proving a challenge. I’m jittering.

I suppose it’s setting my nerves off that he will be in such close proximity to me, right by my bare shoulders, when things are uneasy between us right now – and all we really are to each other is a prisoner and an officer.

I’m probably crossing a line.

But it’s too late now.

Right behind me, he takes the satin ribbons of the bodice and pulls them, tightly. I suck in a breath. He starts knotting, which squeezes me in tighter. It seems to take an age.

He finally lets go.

I turn around.

“How does it look?” I smooth my hair over my shoulder.

His gaze travels down my body. His eyes widen, and the colour drains from his face, making every freckle more pronounced. I could count them.

I sort of… want to.

“Cosmer?” I probe.

“It’s a great dress,” he affirms, looking away.

He goes back to buttoning up his shirt.

I breathe deep, fighting off the sigh my body is longing to make.

Why did I, for a second, expect him to say something else?

The pangs in my chest almost feel like disappointment.

We meet Riss and Drake outside their door. Riss is in a simple pale pink dress that is sleek over her legs and accentuates her pointy collarbone and shoulders. With her short haircut and sharp face, she looks sort of otherworldly, like she could take flight.

But, in my gown, and my hair brushed and braided with a bootlace I found in the dresser – I took inspiration from Riss and improvised – I feel wholly overdressed beside her.

Drake, it seems, has also been presented with distinctly Rhavnan clothing to borrow. He’s wearing a long, fitted black coat, structured at the shoulders. A white silk scarf tucked under his collar has been tied with a traditional knot.

When he sees me, he stands straighter than I think I’ve ever seen him stand before, his hands clasped behind him. His gaze goes right through me. Makes the back of my neck tingle.

Who is he? I find myself wondering, not for the first time. He really is striking. Like he could command armies. And they would listen.

I notice Cosmer and Riss exchange an odd glance.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, stiffening.

“Well,” Riss says. “You both look…”

“Rhavnan.” Cosmer finishes, avoiding eye contact with me.