He nods gravely. “And for them, blending is how they survive.”
I understand the way of the warrior, and I can see the trap Nazar is about to spring on me. I can also see that it’s not one from which I can easily escape. Still, I roll my eyes. “I know what you’re doing.”
“Well, I don’t,” Caleb protests as Nazar smirks around the tip of his pipe, the fragrant smoke still curling around him in equally smug wisps. “So what if they wear gowns to blend? They’re not you. What they do and why they do it shouldn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I agree. “But they wear gowns to blend—to survive—because for them, the smartest thing they can do is to blend. To bend with the prevailing wind, much like the servants on the floor and in the kitchens keep their gaze on their feet and their voices quiet. Theyblend.”
I can tell the moment during my little speech when he understands. To my annoyance, though, he merely bounces up and down on his toes. “But you don’t have to blend, because you’re blessed Talia of the Thirteenth House, strong and fierce. You don’t look like anyone up on that dais and you’re proud of it.” He grins at me. “So you’re going to wear a dress.”
I curl my lip in disgust. “I think I preferred it when you were confused.”
Still, I turn on my heel and stomp back into my inner chamber, unsurprised when the door is opened again behind me to admit a wide-eyed maid. Dressing according to my station is a far sight more complicated at the First House than it was at the Tenth.
“Let me guess,” I huff, as the young woman whom I’ve never met before bustles over to the large chest and pulls out enough rough silk to blanket the room. “Nazar already stuffed a gown in there, knowing I would change my mind. What’s your name? I’m sorry I don’t know.”
“Alis, Lady Talia, and this won’t take but a few moments,” she promises. “Just hold your arms up…?”
The chemise is first, thrown over me and cinched tight with laces, its soft linen nicer than anything I’ve ever worn. I savor its light touch against my skin, because the rest of my ensemble seems custom-made to weigh me down. Alis produces an underdress of deep emerald green—a shade far darker than Tenth House green—shot through with silver. The dress’s fitted bodice requires a second round of lacing, and then she lugs out the heavy gown of pure silver. The hem of this gown is heavy with green and gold embroidery, all vines and tiny flowers, and the sleeves…oh, the sleeves. They’re ridiculously long, falling nearly to the floor, lined with dark green silk that shimmers as Alis lifts them onto my arms. “How do you expect me to eat without dragging these through the food?” I grumble, glaring at the offending fabric. “And how in the Light can I fight in this?”
Alis only smiles. “You’ll look splendid, Lady Talia.”
She’s not finished, of course. She fastens a girdle of polished bronze links around my waist, and it sits low over my hips, its pendant hanging just slightly too long for comfort. My jewelry is next—a delicate golden chain with an emerald the size of teardrops nestled against my collarbone, and matching earrings that tug at my ears.
The final touch is the shoes—soft leather slippers dyed silver to match the gown. Simple, at least compared to the rest, but I know my feet will ache before the evening is through. “All this effort,” I sigh, adjusting the emerald at my throat, wondering where Nazar conjured it up from, “just for me to annoy people.”
Alis steps back, satisfied. “You’ll annoy them so much they’ll never forget you,” she says, and I grimace at her.
“You heard that, in there? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were already on hand.
“I was waiting just outside the door. Master Nazar wasn’t entirely sure you’d allow yourself to be dressed.”
“He wasn’t?” That at least makes me happy. “Good. He shouldn’t be so certain he can outmaneuver me.”
“Never that, Lady Talia,” Alis says firmly, her deft fingers pulling my hair back into ornate combs. The feel of feminine adornment in my hair unnerves me more than the rest of my costume combined. I squint at Alis as she fusses over me.
“You think I’m making the right choice? Dressing as a lady instead of how I prefer?”
She bites her lip for a moment, as if debating how honest she should be, though I suspect she, too, is under the lingering influences of Fortiss’s spell. Still, I don’t press her for a response. I know what it’s like to be unsure of whether an honest comment would merit me a laugh, a word of ready agreement, or a slap across the face. No female servant of mine will ever be forced to speak when they would rather stay silent…or dress in a gown when they’d rather wear breeches.
Just as I decide that no answer is in the offing, she surprises me. “Yes,” she finally says. “I do think you are making the right choice. I understand why all of these clothes would not be your first choice. They’re heavy and awkward and they make it difficult for a woman to move. Doubtless that was the intention of whoever designed a gown so bulky it takes two men to carry it. But you look like who you are, Lady Talia. Just as you looked like a young man determined to win the Tournament of Gold when you first came to the First House and were singled out by Lord Protector Rihad—former lord protector, I mean.”
I wince. “You were there for that? At the banquet? I’m surprised you remember me.”
“You were kind—to your soldier knight.” At my startled glance, Alis steps back, her face reddening. “I wasn’t the only one who noticed. What I mean, though, is—you fully looked like you belonged that night, but wearing this gown tonight, after everything you’ve done, everything you’ve proven on the battlefield, and given how much Lord Protector Fortiss already values your insights, and how much the council already whispers about you in their closed chambers, you dressing like this, boldly and assured, is the best thing you can possibly do. As a boy warrior, you deserved a place at Rihad’s table. But as the lady of your own house, you should dress like you own the table.”
She meets my gaze with wide eyes as if she’s surprised at her own candor, then wheels around to scurry out the door ahead of me. I stare for a moment longer, carefully cataloguing everything she’s said—it’s too much to understand now, but there was much in her little speech of vital importance—and not just the business of what I should be wearing.
Why has the council been talking about me? And does Fortiss know about it?
And who else is talking, whether here or throughout the Protectorate? The faintest thread of concern unspools, embroidering the edges of my thoughts. I no sooner clip it off in one place then it spins up in another. There’s something important in Alis’s casual comment…even if it’s only the offhanded nature of it. Of course the council would be discussing me. I’m nothing like anything they’ve experienced in the Protectorate—nothing like anyone has experienced.
There’s definitely a danger here.
I leave my inner chambers far more slowly than I entered them, careful not to overbalance myself, but if Caleb’s startledhuff of admiration when I step back into the sitting room is any indication, Alis has the right of it.
“Good?” I ask, and he grins, bobbing his head up and down.
“Absolutely good,” he agrees, and he knows me well enough to say no more.
