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Starling did a little dance around me, her filmy gown flaring—she had an enviably slender figure. Of course, I was likely gaunt as a skeleton now.
“Yes! Since you gave her your gratitude, Rogue made her your seneschal. So she’ll take care of your business from here until you get your own castle. Or whatever. If I could conjure up anythingIwanted, I think I’d have a little place by the sea—who wants more fortresses?”
“You have a point there.”
“Here we are.” Starling opened doors into a sun-filled room all in whites and golds with a row of windows that overlooked the orchards and the green hills beyond. She skipped across the room to an armoire and flung open the doors to a garden of outfits. “See!” She practically squealed. “You can try them all on. See what you like best. I’m very good at helping decide what looks best.”
Hesitant, I pulled out something in a pretty jewel-green. It looked reasonable—neither convent nor Frederick’s of Hollywood.
“Mother said you prefer brighter colors,” Starling said. “I’m calling for cocktails.”
I flipped through the gowns, some with divided skirts for riding, all bright jewel tones, all of similar weight. Was it always the same season here? No, couldn’t be—not with apples growing outside. Unless those weren’t really apples. Ah, well—it was easier to assume normal rules of biology applied. Apple trees were deciduous and required a cold season to fruit. Therefore there must be seasons, right? Though, so far, every day had been the same sunshine, the same clear skies. Bemused, I listened to the roll of my thoughts, more popping up all the time.
“What do I do if there’s colder weather?”
Starling returned from the hall, trailed by a young page pushing a sort-of tea cart laden with decanters and a pair of crystal glasses that grabbed the sun and threw shards of light around the room. Starling shooed him out and closed the door, leaning back against it, looking surprised. “I thought you were a sorceress. Can’t you just zap yourself warm?” She wiggled her fingers like lightning strikes as an example.
A laugh escaped me, which felt odd. A crack in the granite. “Probably, but wouldn’t it be easier just to wear a coat?”
“Unglamorous, if you ask me.” She shrugged. “Look in that trunk—I think those are cold-weather supplies. Now do you want honey wine, plum wine or sweet nectar? Or there’s this whiskey.”
“Whiskey? You have whiskey?”
“Yes, it’s common, but Daddy keeps it on the cocktail cart. I don’t know why.”
“Yes, please, to the whiskey.”
She generously filled one crystal goblet and I choked at the sight.
“That much will take all afternoon to drink.”
“Good thing we have all afternoon!” Starling poured herself some pink stuff that had to be the nectar and flopped on a white velvet fainting couch. She pointed imperiously at me. “Now start trying on clothes. I’ve been waiting and waiting to see them. We thought they would never let you out.”
Me, too.
“What about the color thing?” I asked, grasping at the memory.
“Color thing?”
“You know, if I wear this color, I’m allied with that person.”
“Oh tish tosh.” Starling shooed away so much nonsense. “The only ones who believe that are the old-fashioned old-fogies. Wear what you like and screw ’em if they can’t take a joke, I say! Only,” she added, glancing at the closed door, “don’t mention to Mom that I said so. Now get started already!”
The feel of the glass in my hand, the sun streaming in the windows, the taste of whiskey in my mouth—not quite Jameson, but wonderful in its own way—helped settle me back in my skin. Taking my glass with me, I grabbed the green dress and stepped behind the lacquer screen that shielded the chamber pot. Starling didn’t need to see the state of my body. I didn’t need to answer questions about it.
I nudged the pot aside with my foot, balanced my glass on a little ledge built into the screen and shrugged out of the oatmeal traveling thing. I tossed the robe over the top of the screen.
“Bravo!” Starling called. “Let’s just burn that, shall we?”
“Fine by me, but let’s make sure at least one of these fits first.”
“Oh they’ll fit. Mother never misses.”
Fortunately I hadn’t been wound into one of those mummy-corsets since that long-ago night of the banquet and only wore what the Elizabethan novels probably meant bychemise.Just a fine sheer cloth nightgown-style, except the skirt was divided and sewn, so I could ride. I pulled on the green dress, which felt like satiny heaven sliding over me.
Starling gaped at me when I emerged from behind the screen. Her expression made me think I might not be a vision of loveliness.
“Blessed Titania, what happened to your hair?”
