Arezoo laughed. "That's sage advice from a girl who will probably wear combat boots with her bridesmaid dress. You are also over six feet tall, so you don't need to make yourself any taller."
"Neither do you, even though you are a shorty. You're perfect the way you are."
It hadn't escaped Arezoo's notice that Drova hadn't denied intending to wear combat boots with her bridesmaid dress, but she wasn't going to press the issue. Drova would look stunning regardless of her footwear.
"Thank you. It's very sweet of you to say that, but it's also annoying. You could wear a trash bag and make it look good."
"It's the confidence. It makes anything look good."
There was some truth to it, but a tiny waist, a flat chest, and an exotic alien beauty had a lot to do with that as well. The Kra-ell were built like fashion models.
Deadly fashion models with fangs who drank blood for sustenance.
"I'm working on it," Arezoo said.
And she was.
The girl who had arrived at the village barely able to make eye contact was still in there somewhere, but she was getting pushed further into the background by the woman Arezoo was becoming. Drova's friendship had a lot to do with that. It was hard to remain timid when your best friend was a deadly six-foot-something warrior who was also a powerful compeller.
"How's Ruvon taking the postponement?" Drova asked.
"With stoic acceptance." Arezoo smiled. "He said that waiting two more weeks is a small price to pay for having everyone there. Then he asked me if I was okay, and I said I was even though I wasn't, not fully, and he held me until I actually was."
"That's good. I see that my warning is effective."
Arezoo snorted. "I think he's forgotten about your threats if he mistreats me. He just wants to make me happy. That's his whole thing. He'll move mountains to give me what I want. Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve him."
"Stop that," Drova said. "You survived things that would have destroyed most people. If anyone has earned the Fates' boon, it's you."
Arezoo's eyes stung, and she blinked hard. "Since when do you invoke the Fates and not the Mother of All Life?"
"The Mother is not a kind deity. The Fates the clan believes in are much nicer, and the lore is that they reward those who suffered greatly or sacrificed greatly for others."
"Now you're being nice, and that's suspicious."
"I'm always nice."
"Right." Arezoo laughed again, pressing Ruvon's sweatshirt sleeve against her eyes to catch the few tears that had managed to escape despite her efforts to stop them. "I should let you go," she said. "It's late here, and you probably have things to do."
"I do. Save me something from that cocktail party. A cracker. A piece of cheese. I don't care. I just want evidence that you had a good time."
"You don't eat food. I can save you one of those fake juice boxes filled with blood. I'll put it in the freezer."
"Don't." Drova made a gagging sound. "Blood tastes gross after it has been defrosted and frozen again."
"I'll save you a decoration," Arezoo said.
"Take photos."
"I will."
They were both smiling, Arezoo was sure of it, even though she couldn't see Drova's face. Some things didn't need to be seen to be known.
"Good night, Arezoo, and don't worry about the mission. We know what we're doing. Well, most of us know what we're doing."
"Good morning, Drova. Be safe."
"I'm the most dangerous person on this island."
