“Hey, it’s all right. It’s my fault. I keep forgetting how new you are to all of this.” She squeezes my shoulder. “I’m the one who should be sorry.” She gathers the clothes she laid out for me on her bed. “Here.” Her face lights up. “Why don’t you try these on?” Her gaze flicks across my scarred arms. “I’ve picked out the ones with long sleeves—I thought you might prefer that.” She pushes the pile into my hands with a reassuring smile.
I step behind her dressing screen again, examining the clothes more closely. They’re similar to what she herself is wearing:leggings that stop a couple inches above the ankles, a flowy skirt with a split all the way up one side, and a loose linen top tucked at the waist, with wide sleeves that cuff right over the wrists. The leggings she’s given me have a rich midnight-blue hue, while my skirt and top are a delicate lavender adorned with golden embroidery along the edges. I appreciate the thoughtfully designed slits, perfect for holding daggers.
I slip the black dagger into one of the available pockets and study myself in the full-length mirror. I must admit the pale purple shade is doing more for my fair complexion than the black has ever done, but that was the whole point, wasn’t it? One should not draw attention to oneself.
The top exposes my shoulders through its openings, and the front features a narrow slit that extends below my breasts. My fingers trail my bare neck and shoulders. The way these clothes hug and enhance my curves is somehow worse than being naked.
I peek out from behind the screen. “I’m not sure...” I say, cheeks burning, but Seniia will have nothing of it. She pulls me out into the open.
“Look at you!” She beams. “That outfit was made for you.”
I purse my lips, not sure if I share her enthusiasm. I saw plenty of similar outfits as I walked through Bowen, but seeing one on myself is something else entirely. I give myself a once-over in the full-length mirror, questioning the reflection staring back. There’s no way the person I see in there can be me.
There’s a knock on the door, and I fling my arms across my chest and shoulders.
Vilder’s strawberry-blond head appears in the doorway. “You ladies done yet?” he asks Seniia, then looks at me. “Nice outfit.” He gives a nod of approval.
I know I should say something, but all I can do is stare at him, blinking, wishing I were anywhere but here.
“Oh, come on now, Laïna.” Seniia laughs. “No one will bat an eyelid, I promise.” She hands me a pair of golden slippers. “Put these on.”
Vilder sinks into one of the plush velvet chairs and drapes his long legs over its armrest, taking in the modest yet elegant room. The two beds with deep blue coverlets against opposite walls, the vanity table between two floor-to-ceiling windows—one of them cracked open, letting in the distant sounds of music and laughter from the festival below.“Your room is so much better than mine.”
“Of course it is.” She turns toward me. “Why don’t you sit down so I can braid your hair?”
With a wary glance toward Vilder, I make my way across the spacious room, my feet sinking into the plush carpets as I head toward the vanity table. The leggings cling to me like a second skin and do absolutely nothing to hide what’s beneath, not to mention how my entire leg is exposed with every step I take. I needn’t have worried, however. Vilder’s too busy having a staring competition with Seniia’s feathered pet to pay attention to me.
“I could sense your wielding,” he says, pulling his gaze away from the serpent. “You are not supposed to wield elen until you’ve started training—you are aware of that, right?” He quirks an eyebrow at Seniia.
“As if anyone upholds that.” She adds a layer of blush to my cheeks, although I don’t think I need any assistance in that department. “Until I lay down my oaths, I will do as I please, thank you very much.” Her face takes on an expression of mock innocence. “Unless you would like to carry buckets of warm water for my bath?”
“I’m sure they have fire wielders amongst their staff. No need to bother me.”
“Semantics.”
He snorts. “Hardly.”
When she’s done, my kohl-rimmed eyes and pale pink lips are as foreign to me as these lands. I study myself from all angles. Seniiahas skillfully twisted my long hair into an elaborate braid adorned with petite flowers, and to top it off, she lightly dusts our skin with a layer of golden shimmer, giving us a radiant glow. She appears like a goddess, while I probably only appear out of place.
Vilder stands, stretching his tall frame. “About time.”
I let my eyes flutter shut for a moment, drawing in a steadying breath.You can pull this off, Laïna. I’ll look exactly like the others, after all. Nothing to worry about.
BY THE TIME WE MAKE it outside, Niia hangs pearlescent and pregnant high in the sky, enveloped by her four children. Save the Celestial Moon, only the pale green moon, Tiran, if I remember correctly, is at a full circle, the other three being at various stages of their cycle. Together they bathe the world in a soft pastel-colored light.
As we weave our way down the narrow alleyways toward the square, I notice how every street is adorned with greenery and gold garlands and how silk ribbons are woven between buildings, shimmering in the warm light of the floating lanterns.And the smells. Fragrant clouds of exotic spices waft through the air, filling my senses and making my mouth water in a way I’ve never experienced before.
I gasp as we step into the main square. How is this possible? Above us is an arched ceiling entirely made out of floating flowers and glowing lanterns suspended in midair.
“This is my favorite festival.” Seniia claps her hands. “Do you like it?”
I smile at her. It’s hard not to. “I do,” I say, swallowing down the lump forming in my throat. Although it’s obvious that it’s made from magic, it’s all so vibrant. The colors. The...life.
I watch in fascination as humans and Reans alike hold on to the ribbons hanging from the tall pole as they twirl and dance theirway around it. Why would anyone want to deceive and kill whenthisis possible?
A mature Rean crosses the square with her small vendor wagon, handing out samples to females as she passes.
“A cup of lunar sanga, priestess?” She bows her head to Seniia as she approaches. “Fresh batch for tonight’s celebration. Ethically sourced.”
