She blinked. ‘And?’
‘And it’ll probably move into the merchant borough at some point.’ He felt his patience slipping as she stared back with a blank expression. ‘It’s a violent game, and the players won’t care if their opponents are men or women.’
She closed the gap between them, and he tensed.
‘You’re worried about the violence?’ She looked around. ‘We live violence every day in this borough. It’s the reason the square in our village is stained with blood and bodies decorate our walls.’
His eyes fell to her mouth, and an overwhelming desire to taste her had him leaning forwards. Her head tipped back slightly, as if inviting him closer. She had spoken of attraction, but what he felt could not be reduced to something so ordinary.
He stepped back and drew a breath.
Blake’s lips came together, and she looked past him in the direction of the village. ‘I guess I shall see you at the festival.’ She bowed her head. ‘Good day, Commander.’
He stepped aside. ‘Merchant.’
Chapter 13
Blake rarely gave much thought to her appearance. She chose clothing based on comfort and practicality, considering whether a dress would restrict her movement in an archery contest, or if the weight of a skirt would prevent her from running if the need arose. Sometimes she even selected a dress based on whether food spills would show on that colour.
But on the morning of the Solar Festival, she found herself standing in front of the cupboard where the girls’ dresses hung, wondering which one wouldflatterher slim frame. She took them out one at a time and held them against her, studying her reflection in the mirror. This was the first time she had given thought to what colours went well with her complexion.
The Solar Festival was a celebration of Belenus, the god of sun and fire, and it called for reds, oranges, and yellows. While the nobility covered themselves head to toe with gold and rubies, the merchants found more creative ways to join in: headpieces with dyed feathers, painted faces, and bold dresses with interesting features.
Blake pulled out the orange two-piece gown Lyndal had worn to the festival the year prior. In theory, it should not have fit, but Blake had lost weight over the course of the year, so she was able to squeeze into it. The cut of the dress was designed to push her breasts high and hold her waist in. There were not huge amounts of her to push and pull, but the gown helped. The skirt ballooned from the hips, giving them a fuller appearance. Ruffles of red fabric had been sewn along the bottom, so it looked as though flames licked the hem of the skirt. She would need to wear a lighter skirt beneath it for gameball. There was no way she could kick and run otherwise.
Lyndal walked into the room and stopped dead in her tracks. ‘Who are you, and what have you done with my bad-dressing sister?’
Blake looked down. ‘Do I look ridiculous?’
‘You look amazing.’ Lyndal went over and began tugging at the neck of the dress. ‘I think we can get those breasts even higher.’
Blake slapped her sister’s hand away. ‘I don’t need a chin rest.’
Lyndal circled her. ‘Oh, I have some good ideas.’
‘For what?’
‘Hair, face. Do we still have that beeswax leftover from last year?’ She walked over to the small dresser against the wall and began rummaging through the top drawer. She held up a tiny pot and turned to Blake with a triumphant expression. ‘I’ll mix a little with some turmeric for your eyes and the flower dye for your lips.’ She returned to Blake and started fiddling with her hair. ‘Yes, up for this dress. You could borrow Mother’s gold earrings.’
‘You mean the ones we sold a few months back?’
Lyndal sighed. ‘Well, you don’t need them anyway. Just look at you. Last year I had to drag you along to the festival, and this year you look ready to steal the heart of every man in attendance.’
‘Hardly.’ If she were being honest, the dress was for Harlan. She wanted him to look at her the way she saw men look at Lyndal. What did that say about her?
‘Sit,’ Lyndal said. ‘I’ll start with your hair.’
‘What about you? Don’t you need to get ready?’
Lyndal waved a hand. ‘Yes, yes. In a minute.’ She brushed Blake’s hair back with her fingers, braided it loosely with a few extra turns here and there, then twisted it into a bun at the nape of her neck. ‘Look at that gorgeous neck—and not one man in the borough has seen it.’
Blake rolled her eyes. ‘There’s a good reason for that. Hair keeps the neck warm.’
Lyndal disappeared from the room and returned a few minutes later with two bowls containing coloured pastes. She sat on the bed facing her sister. ‘Is this for him?’
‘Who?’
Lyndal shook her head. ‘You know exactly who. Commander Harlan Wright.’
