Silence stretched. Briar found herself holding her breath.
"Two days," Arion said finally. "We have two more days to figure out what's happening. What she is."
"And then?"
"Then she chooses."
"Chooses?" Ferria's voice pitched higher. "You think he's going to let her choose? You think any of us have choices when it comes to the Forest King?"
"Everyone has choices."
"Pretty words from someone who's never been marked. Never been owned. Never—" She herself cut off. When she spoke again, her voice was carefully controlled. "Two days. But when he comes, and he will come, I won't stand between him and what's his. None of us should."
Footsteps moved away. A door slammed.
Then, quieter, Arion's voice reached her. "You can stop pretending to sleep."
Briar's eyes flew open. He stood in the doorway, looking tired and worried and too much like Eliam in the slant of morning light.
"How did you know?"
"Your breathing changed when you woke up." He entered, leaving the door open. "How do you feel?"
"I feel as if I drowned and came back wrong." She touched the mark. Still quiet and waiting. "Am I? Wrong?"
He was quiet for a long moment. "I don't know. But we have two days to find out."
"Ferria's right," she said at last. "I should go back. Before anyone else gets hurt."
"Is that what you want?"
Was it? The thought of returning to that darkness, to whatever punishment waited for her defiance made her feel sick. But the thought of others suffering for her perceived 'escape' felt worse.
"I don't know what I want." Truth filled her words. "I feel like I don't even know who I am anymore. I don't know why the flowers you say are impossible bloomed for me. I don't know anything except that in two days, none of it will matter."
"Then we'd better start finding answers." He gestured to a wardrobe. "There are clothes that should fit. Choose whatever you'd like. I'll wait outside."
Confusion flickered across her face and she hesitated. "What should I wear?"
His brow furrowed slightly. "Whatever you prefer. They're just clothes."
"But which would be appropriate?"
"Briar." His voice was gentle but puzzled. "You're not being presented or displayed. You're just getting dressed. Choose what feels comfortable." He moved toward the door. "Take your time."
She stared after him, mulling over his words before she swung her legs out of bed, testing them. They were a bit shaky but functional. She approached the wardrobe with something close to wonder.
Inside hung more dresses than she'd ever seen in one place. All of them were in shades that seemed pulled from dawn itself. Pale blues that reminded her of morning sky, whites soft as clouds, creams and ivories, butter yellows, rose golds, and pinks ranging from barely-there blush to deep coral.
She ran her fingers along the fabrics. They were all soft, all flowing, all beautiful without being constraining. No rigid structures. No impossibly tight lacing. Just... dresses.
Her hand stopped on one that made her breath catch. The bodice was pale gold overlaid with delicate ivory lace, flowers embroidered across it in shades of cream and the palest pink.
The neckline was modest and would sit just below her collarbones, with longsleeves that would drape gracefully, covering her arms and in turn the mark that now twisted across her shoulder blade Layers of sheer silk made up the skirt—gold, then cream, then white beneath—with embroidered flowers spilling down the length of it.
She took her time and dressed slowly, marveling at how the garment fastened easily and without help. How it fit without crushing her ribs, allowing her to actually breathe. The fabric settled against her skin, light and comfortable.
The freedom of choosing her own clothes, of dressing without inspection or correction, was almost frightening. Since her arrival Eliam had chosen every garment, every color, every detail. Even before court dinners, he'd laid out exactly what she should wear and how. It was terrifying how she had grown accustomed to such treatment in such a short period of time.
