Tig puffs out an annoyed breath and makes for the tub. I exhale a deep breath of my own, thanking the stars that the sprite seems to have given up on whatever plans she had for the woman. I hope.
Eon skips after her sister without a care in the world and the spritesmake up my bath like they usually do. Unlike every other day, however, a golden tray of salts and flowers, perfumed oils, and bubbling soaps sits by the sink. Tig picks an oil, the scent of which I can’t quite place. It smells of the woods in the spring when the flowers are beginning to bloom and the cottonwoods shed their seed.
Eon climbs onto the marble counter, and I smile as I watch her uncork and sniff every concoction within reach, all but one issuing a sigh of pleasure from the fea. The last she dramatically chokes on, clutching her throat as she holds the bottle as far away from her tiny nose as she can manage.
The rest of the morning is much like every other. Almost. Eon picks an A’kori gown in a greyish blue that makes my eyes brighter against the pale hue of my skin. When she doesn’t proffer the usual matching set of pants, I walk into the large closet to find them.
While Felias hadn’t approved of me constantly wearing them, I never expected him to go so far as to remove them from my wardrobe entirely. My cheeks heat when I look myself over in the mirror, one part embarrassment, two parts rage. The wide cut of the top exposing my shoulders and the swell of my breasts is bad enough, but the floor to hip slit on either side of the gown is wildly indecent.
Since the night of Felias’s party I’ve understood why the feyn favor this fashion. They have no need to hide behind clothing. It only detracts from their natural beauty. But I am not feyn, and each way the cut of the gown is designed to embellish their loveliness, only serves to expose every one of my flaws.
Thankfully, Tig leaves my hair down and I pull a few loose spirals over my shoulders in an effort to obtain some semblance of modesty. I debate writing Felias and demanding he send the rest of my things but if he doesn’t want me to have them what can I do? I can hate and understand his motives simultaneously. Assassination by means of seduction has always been on the table even if only as a last resort. It is, after all, the way of most Fea Dien.
I pause when my hand lands on the lever of my bedroom door, looking back toward the sisters.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I say.
It doesn’t scratch the surface of the relief I feel in their presence, but they look pleased by the sentiment, and I crack a smile before walking into the hall.
“Are you always this cheerful in the mornings?” The general’s deep voice echoes down the corridor.
He stands across the hall, his shoulder leaning against the stone. The smile falls from my face when I see him, and he frowns, his eyes falling to my mouth.
“Where is Awri?” I ask.
“Something came up,” he says, “and she has been delayed.”
He saunters toward me, his bruise looking markedly better. I was taught that feyn heal much quicker than humans but never witnessed it myself.
“I came to offer you a tour of the palace until Awri can make herself available,” he says.
“All right.”
I’m sure I can decline, and he won’t force it. But the rejection won’t do me any favors, if I plan on staying in whatever good graces I’ve somehow fallen into.
He gestures down the hall, and I step in beside him, his heavy boots clipping loudly upon the marble. Blood warms my cheeks when his eyes follow the length of my leg from my hip to the floor.
“You aren’t wearing pants,” he says.
“How observant,” I quip.
He looks at me out of the corner of his eye and asks, “Why?”
“Do I need a reason? I was told this is entirely appropriate.” It’s impossible to keep the flood of color from my cheeks when I reply, but I breathe easier when his eyes return to my face. The feeling doesn’t last.
“It is,” he assures me, “It’s just that, aside from the day we first met, I’ve never seen you without them.”
I hum thoughtfully, scrunching my face as if I am trying to recall a memory from long ago.
“Oh yes, I remember. That was the day you tried to have me removedfrom my uncle’s home.”
“Don’t change the subject.” He glares.
I look down at my legs when I say, “I thought I would try something new.”
Of course, it’s a lie, but I hope it’s enough to encourage him to leave it alone. His stride falters and he turns to face me.
“Why are you always so difficult?” he growls, his sneer falling away as quickly as it came when realization sets in, and he voices the revelation aloud. “Your uncle didn’t send any, did he?” I don’t have time to answer before he barks a laugh. “Of course he didn’t.”
