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Gerarda’s shoulders sagged. “It’s not the palette, though Nikolai seems to favor colors that burn my eyes.”
Elaran shook her head and sat down on the stool. “Perhaps you can help where I cannot.”
I glanced at the two piles of clothes next to the mirror. One was mountainous and made of every kind of garment while the other was a tiny pile of trousers and the occasional tunic. “I’m guessing these are rejections.” I pointed to the larger of the two.
Gerarda nodded. A faint line had appeared between her brows and her eyes were flicking from point to point over the mirror in a rhythmic pattern. My chest swelled for Gerarda as I recognized the same caution in her gaze as mine every time I tried on new clothes. Just like I had to check again and again for someone not to see my scars, she was checking for something too.
But that problem could only be solved if she told me. I knelt to the small pile of clothes she had accepted and began folding them neatly. Gerarda watched as I folded the pants but didn’t say anything. They were all long and contained a multitude of pockets where Gerarda could store her blades. The leather guards she had found had slits along the arms for her throwing knives and werea warm red as opposed to the black ones she currently wore. The shirts were all loose, some with long sleeves and others short.
I noticed none of them had a low neckline. “Have you tried the shirt with the stiff collar?” I pointed to one hanging from the mirror beside us. It was made of wool and had a rounded collar that closed directly over the neck.
Gerarda’s cheeks flushed. “They’re too tight.”
I blinked. Gerarda had always been small and lithe. Nikolai had gathered clothing in every size, certainly enough to fit Gerarda properly. She looked down at her boots and I realized the problem was the fit. Her weeks in the Faeland had changed her frame. Living a life without rations had brought a fullness to her cheeks that made her look more youthful than she ever had before, but that fullness had also found its way to her chest.
“I’ll be right back.” I rummaged through the racks, looking for something that wasn’t tulle or silk when Dynara found me.
She tapped my shoulder. “What are you looking for? I’ve been through these racks a dozen times by now.”
I sighed. “Do you have anything that looks like Riven’s leathers? A vest that ties at the sides instead of down the middle.”
“I did see one …” She walked over to another rack full of leather training clothes and started pulling them over the thick root. “Here!”
She handed me a dark leather vest with sharp shoulder caps that were made of five layered pieces cut to the shape of leaves. A design of interwoven vines was pressed into the leather in a similar pattern to the one Riven wore. It was cut in the same fashion as the armor theinnithira—Elfmen—wore.
“I think that might work.” I kissed Dynara on the cheek and grabbed a matching tunic.
I brought the pieces to Gerarda and sighed with relief when she agreed to try them on. Elaran watched her walk behindthe curtain with wide eyes and she mouthedthank youto me as Gerarda changed.
Gerarda stepped out of the dressing room with a satisfied look on her face. She stood up on the podium just as Syrra appeared silently at my side.
“I like this much better.” Gerarda was too shy to meet my gaze. “Thank you.”
I smiled.
But Syrra stepped behind the Halfling and lifted her hands to Gerarda’s short hair. “May I?” she asked in Elvish.
Gerarda nodded.
Syrra combed her fingers through the thick black tresses and pulled the top half of Gerarda’s short mane into a braid. It was the same style Riven and Feron often wore. And now I realized that Syrra always wore too.
“Do you like that better?” Syrra stared down at Gerarda through the mirror.
Gerarda lifted her hand to her hair. “I’m not sure if it’s appropriate—”
Syrra placed gentle hands on her shoulders. “That is not the question that was asked. Do you like it, child?”
Gerarda nodded.
“Then you shall wear it and wear it proudly.” Syrra pulled the front piece of the vest along the bottom so it fell in line with Gerarda’s shoulders. “We can fashion you a few more of these. Tell Nikolai what designs you would like and he will see that it gets done.”
Gerarda turned around to face Syrra directly. “There’s no need. I don’t want to be a burden.”
Syrra shook her head with one hand on Gerarda’s shoulder. “This is yourhome. You must be comfortable here. The world has not been kind to Elverin like you and me.”
Gerarda blinked. “Like us?”
Syrra’s face softened. “Aemon built a world with only two paths and decided who should walk along each one. Those that strayed were forced to hide or died along the way.” Syrra sighed deeply. “But here, Elverin may walk along both paths as they like, or forge new ones altogether. That is not something to be ashamed of. Choose whatever path speaks to you and walk along it with whoever you wish.”
