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“Mortal ones?”
She flashed me a tight grin. “No.”
“So…” I cleared my throat. “Admittedly, I don’t know a lot about Iliseeum and the innerworkings of the Courts, so should I be concerned about this coronation?”
Aios’s lips pursed. “Well—”
A cry of warning jerked my attention back to the draken. Reaver was flapping wildly, attempting to lower himself. My stomach plummeted. Jadis teetered on the edge of the boulder, her nearly translucent wings lifting weakly as she tipped forward off the edge.
“Gods.” I shot forward, managing to grasp her tail as I curled an arm under her belly. Heart thumping heavily, I held her to my chest as she chirped madly. “You can’t fly yet,” I told her, having no idea if she understood me or not. “You would’ve broken a wing.”
Bele smacked a hand over her chest. “Oh, Fates, I about had a heart attack.”
“A heart attack? I just saw my life flash before my eyes.” Rhahar looked shaken as Reaver made an unsteady landing near the boulder. “Nektas would’ve had our necks. That’s after charbroiling us.”
My lip curled at the imagery that statement provided, and I bent to put the squirming draken on the ground. Reaver was right there, squawking away. I don’t know what he was communicating to her, but it did not sound pretty. The moment I let her go, she barreled into the larger draken.
“I think that’s enough outdoor fun times for you.” Aios stalked after Jadis.
My heart was still thumping heavily when Bele said, “To answer your question about the coronation… Should you be concerned? The answer is yes,” she advised, and I turned to her. “And if I may give you a piece of advice? No matter what happens, do not show fear.”
The piece of advice Bele had imparted lingered with me as I stood in my bedchamber, wearing only a slip as a woman I’d never met circled me with a cloth tape in hand.
Her name was Erlina. She was mortal, and I thought perhaps in the third or so decade of her life. A seamstress from Lethe. And she was here to take my measurements. Not just for the coronation gown but also so I actually had a wardrobe that went beyond borrowed, scattered pieces.
“Will you lift your arm, Your Highness?” Erlina asked softly.
Recalling what Bele had said, I bit back the urge to tell her she didn’t have to address me so formally. I planned on staying alive long enough to fulfill my duty, so I lifted my arm.
I watched her step onto a small stool she’d brought with her and stretch the tape along the length of my arm, the flowing sleeves of her vibrant blue blouse fluttering. Then she turned, scribbling the measurements on a thick, leather-bound journal.
My gaze flicked to the closed chamber doors, where I knew Ector most likely stood. He had brought me to my chambers, letting me know that the seamstress had arrived. I hadn’t seen Ash yet, and when I asked where he was, I’d been told that he was at the Pillars.
Was he judging souls? If so, what did that even feel like, that kind of responsibility? Pressure. I imagined it was a lot like deciding to use my gift.
“Your other arm,” Erlina instructed. When I raised an eyebrow, a small grin crept across her delicate, almost impish features. “Believe it or not, some people do have arms and legs that are not equal. It’s rare, and usually due to some injury, but I figure it’s best to check.”
“Learn something new every day,” I murmured.
“Same length.” Erlina nodded as she quickly measured my arm. She moved onto my shoulders, which I already knew were probably far wider than most ladies. And definitely broader than hers. She was tiny. “Did you know that your foot is roughly the same length as your forearm?”
I blinked. “Seriously?”
She peeked up at me through a fringe of lashes. “Yes.”
“Huh.” I looked down at my forearm. “Now I want to test that.”
“Most do when they first hear it.” She hopped down from the stool and went to the journal. Her dark brown hair she had twisted into a high bun slipped a little as she turned to me. “I was told that you prefer pants over gowns.”
A wave of surprise flickered through me that it appeared Ash had, yet again, remembered what I’d said. “I do. Did—?” I caught myself before I referred to the Primal as Ash. “Did Nyktos tell you that?”
“He did when he stopped by the shop last week,” she answered, and my stomach tumbled. Last week. It felt like I’d been here longer, and yet it still felt like yesterday when I knelt in the carriage before Marisol. “I would’ve been here sooner, but I was really backed up on designs.”
“It’s okay,” I assured her.
Another brief smile appeared. “I will work on the gown first, along with some blouses and vests for you as they are far quicker to tailor than pants.” She started to put the journal down on the table when she halted. “Do you prefer breeches or tights? But before you answer, I am currently wearing tights.” She plucked out the black material. “They are almost as thick as breeches and as durable, but far more comfortable and soft. Feel them for yourself.”
