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I expect he’s a lot more concerned with preserving what’s left of the woman he adored than my personal wellbeing, but I’ll take it. “Thank you. Where did you even find these?”
“They’re not actually uncommon, even if they aren’t normally used for concealing blades. They make it easier for riding astride. They each have a matching divided underskirt—like flowy trousers—that’ll cover your legs to your calves, but you can fix the weapons over that. I found designs with subtle pockets as well.”
Riding dresses. I should have thought of that.
Even better, because then it won’t matter if anyonedoesnotice the slits.
“Thank you,” I murmur, fingering the sleeve of the turquoise dress. “If I’ve got to be in a gown, this is the kind I want.”
Casimir will beverygood at his intended job if he can judge a woman’s preferences this well in every area.
I really should not be thinking about any other areas he might put his skills to. Even if he’s possibly the most beautiful man I’ve ever set eyes on. And the way he moves that sinewy body of his—
Mind out of the gutter, Ivy.
“Excellent,” Casimir says. “I’ll make sure Stavros puts in a request to have some finer underclothes sent up too. A lot of the women in this place might judge based on surface appearances, but they’ll judge every layer of that surface if they can.” His smile turns a bit sly.
I can’t restrain a snort. “I don’t doubt it.”
Perceptive, clever, and a solid sense of humor. I guess he mustn’t want for patrons.
But the comment about having Stavros handle the rest reminds me of something Julita told me. A prickle of concern passes through my gut. “Should you have come up here at all? I thought—Julita told me that the five of you act like you barely know each other in public.”
Casimir shrugs, showing no sign of fear himself. “I’m reasonably well-known in the companionship division. It wouldn’t be unusual for him to have asked my help outfitting his new assistant. Nothing any tongues would wag about.”
I let out a light chuckle. “Totally professional.” My head is already starting to ache taking in all the internal politics of this place.
He’s right,Julita offers.It should be safe enough. Just don’t approach any of the others around campus as if you know them at all well—except for Stavros, of course.
Naturally. Gods above, why couldn’t I have become Casimir’s assistant?
I mean, other than the fact that my “companionship” skills are about the direct inverse of my combat skills in effectiveness.
Casimir takes a step back as if he’s going to go, but his gaze settles on my right hand. He lifts his chin toward it. “You have a gift. Is it anything that might be useful?”
I instinctively swipe my thumb over the stump where my pointer finger is missing its tip. The long-healed injury does look like it must have been a dedication ceremony sacrifice.
It was actually punishment for infringing a little too obviously on some asshole crime lord’s territory when I was fourteen and getting a bit cocky. He’d have done a lot worse if there’d been much more than a few coins at stake.
It’s easiest to go along with the misconception. It gives me the pretense of having dedicated myself at all.
“Probably a little,” I say. “It helps me move quietly.” Might as well pick a skill I already have in a totally non-magical way. I arch my eyebrows. “That’s me, the sneaky thief all the way through.”
I’m mocking Stavros and his barbed accusations, but Casimir’s expression turns almost sad. “I’d imagine you’re a lot more than that, Ivy. When I look at you and think of everything you’ve already risked to be here, I don’t see sneakiness or deceit. I see kindness.”
For the second time in this place, I find myself momentarily speechless. Casimir smoothly fills in the silence. “I’d better get going, since this is supposedly business and not a social call. I’m looking forward to hearing what you’re able to discover when we meet in the archives next.”
He pauses, and something in his gaze turns a bit more distant, as if he isn’t really looking at me.
Because he’s not.
“Of course you’d find a way to stick with us no matter what, Jules,” he adds for the woman inside me, his voice gone a bit rough. “We’ll see this through.”
Then he slips out as swiftly as he arrived.
Dear, sweet man, Julita says in a droll tone that doesn’t hold much admiration for the descriptors.
My hackles rise in unexpected defensiveness. I inhale slowly before letting myself respond.
