“Don’t…” I fight down shallow breaths between gritted out words. My heart is sure to pound out of my chest. “Space. Give me space.”
I don’t know who I can trust at all anymore.
CHAPTER 47
Durvla
I gapeat myself in the mirror. I’m out of my depth in an ankle-length, midnight blue dress with translucent long sleeves. An impressively forgedsomethingthat I can only describe as a literalbreastplateencases my upper torso, stopping just above my soft midriff. My waist is cinched with a thick leather belt that rests against my hips. The light material of the dress and the accessories accentuate the curves that I’ve always been determined to hide.
For the hundredth time, I tug closed the slit that comes up to the middle of my thigh.
Chiyoko grins and fiddles with the thin silver chains interwoven in the braids that Alys helped put into my hair. The intricacy of it has me questioning Chiyoko’s lack of magic.
I can only stare at my reflection in the mirror, at my kohl-lined eyes, subtle compared to Chiyoko’s generous application to her own.Her makeup gives her a fierce appearance… even as she steps back and applauds with the overenthusiasm of a toddler.
“What a work of art!” she exclaims. “And you look stunning! Like a…” She hesitates, deep in thought. “Warrior…?” She fingerspells the word she doesn’t know: queen.
I laugh lightly and supply the sign.
Chiyoko repeats the sign, laughing as well. “You look like a warrior queen.” Her eyes twinkle. “Alright, one last thing.” She grabs another belt from her table of supplies and kneels.
“What are you—?” My words are cut off by a yelp that escapes me as she binds the belt tightly around my thigh.
Chiyoko glances up at me with a smirk. “You’ve lived for a decade with debilitating headaches, and you can’t handle a dagger sheath on your thigh?”
Her words startle laughter from me. So bold, but so true. Until I realize what she’s actually said. “Did you say a dagger sheath?”
Chiyoko stands and produces a dagger out of nowhere. She holds it by the tip and flips it, catching it by the pommel, and I flinch. “Relax,” she says. It won’t hurt you. It’s not like you have to use it.” She slides it into the sheath now buckled to my thigh, and I once again tug the slit of the delicate dress closed. “Oy, don’t hide my handywork,” Chiyoko scolds.
I pout at her, and she steps back, admiring me like I’m her masterpiece.
She’s dressed in skin-tight leather from head to toe, with a wildly elaborate breastplate that’s certainly more artistic than it is protective. There are metal bracers on her forearms, and tall boots that stop just below her knees. She is every bit formidable. Her blue and brown hair is pulled back into a short ponytail and secured with a silver circle hairpin in the shape of a raven’s wings.
“You look like someone I wouldn’t mess with,” I say, and she grins.
“Good. Let’s get out there, then.” She grabs the small metal statue she’d been working on last night: a little highland cow with a painted crown of flowers across its head. It would make a lovely toy for a child, if the horns weren’t pointed.
Everyone else already left a while ago, but Chiyoko was determined to complete my ensemble before we headed out.
When we arrived last night, there was hardly anyone around. Now, the streets are filledwith villagers of all ages dressed in colorful costumes or warrior gear. Children run by with play swords and hobby horses, one running into me. The small girl stops and tips her face up to me with large brown eyes that remind me of Taig’s. “You lookpretty!” she exclaims, shoving curly blond hair out of her face.
I manage a smile, swallowing. “Thank you. So do you.”
She twirls in her leather skirt and armor until a little boy taps her on the shoulder, then they run off to join the others.
Chiyoko nudges me with her shoulder. “You alright?” she asks.
I lift my hands for a moment, nearly forgetting that we’re in public again. No more signing. I smile and nod.
The village has been transformed, decorated with metal statues that glimmer in the afternoon sunlight, coats of armor, and humanoid figures made of hay.
Osheen appears, dressed in leathers with a bow and quiver. I’m reminded of his hunting skills, which far surpass mine and always will. His eyes widen as he takes in my ensemble. “Wow,” he says.
“You can say that again,” Chiyoko agrees.
“It suits you.” The smile returns to his face.
I glance back and forth between the two until Osheen’s last comment brings me pause. I raise a brow at him. The outfit is edgy, fearsome, and sensual—everything I’m not. My mouth remains shut.
