“Here, Bes. I know you’ll want a good look at my weird toes,” I teased.
“They’re not terribly weird,” she said while gawking at my webbed feet, a blush coloring her cheeks.
Sorka and I laughed at Bes trying so hard not to look absolutely shocked.
“Where is this winter camp?” I asked. “Ghasta Vale?”
“A few days northwest of here, closer to the foothills of the Solgavia Mountains.”
“I don’t understand why you’d go farther north for winter.”
Sorka smiled. “Ghasta Vale is a special place. It is a deep valley between two high-peaked mountains. The valley is protected from the winds and most of the snows. There is a wide stream that provides fish, and the plains provide game. In theselowlands of Vanglosa, the snows can become very deep. But in Ghasta Vale, it is a kind of sanctuary.”
“It is warm there?” I asked, somewhat confused.
“Oh, no.” She laughed as Bes used a long carved flat stick with markings on it to measure my feet. “But it is warmer there than here. And much less snow in the Vale.” She noted the length of my foot then Bes measured my hands and fingers. “Besides, it is tradition. We are a nomadic people, and we thrive on the movement of the clan with the seasons.”
“Oh, Jessamine,” exclaimed Bes. “Wait till you see where the clans gather at the end of winter. It is a great celebration at Jôhl Tundra, and it is so beautiful there!”
“I’m not sure I’ll be with you for that celebration,” I told her honestly. “I’m not sure how long the council or Lord Redvyr will allow me to stay.”
We all fell silent for a moment while Sorka stood and gathered my old gown and bodice. “Bes will let you know when we have your gloves and boots ready.”
“I appreciate that.” I folded up my chemise to carry with me, wanting to keep it to sleep in. Though I wasn’t sure where I’d be sleeping yet.
“And here you are. You must also have a warm cloak.” She pulled out a fur cloak with a hood, all in silvery gray, looking exactly like the fur I’d slept on Redvyr’s camp.
“Is this from a barga?”
Sorka wrapped it around my shoulders and tied the clasp at my throat. “Yes. Redvyr and the warriors hunt at least one each spring when they come out of their caves.” She stepped back and examined me with a satisfied nod. “It is tradition.”
I smiled. “The beast fae are fond of their traditions.”
“We live by them.”
I looked down at the dress and cloak and sighed. “Thank you, Sorka.”
She laughed. “I can’t believe that. A Morodon princess? You’ve likely been dressed in the finest gowns coin can buy.”
I couldn’t explain that while yes, they may have been elaborate and lovely, they weren’t created with such care for both beauty and warmth, a garment that nurtured while showcasing the finest craftsmanship.
“Trust me, Sorka. You have magick of your own.”
The woman’s bronzed cheeks darkened with a blush. “You are kind to say so.” She heaved a sigh, looking out toward the tent flap. “I imagine my seamstresses are tired of waiting. Bes, you take Jessamine back to Lord Redvyr. I am not sure where you’ll be housed.”
“Me neither,” I told her. “Well, Bes, will you show me the way?”
The young girl beamed. “Gladly.” Then she took my hand—my webbed hand—and led me out of the tent to find Lord Redvyr. Wolf was there, waiting for me.
“Come on, Wolf,” I called to him, though there was no need. He trotted alongside us, tongue lolling like he was happy to accompany us.
My heart twisted sweetly at Bes’s kindness and friendly gesture at holding my hand. I glanced down at the dear girl proudly leading me through the camp and realized I had an instant affection for her. And Sorka. Wolf, too. And dare I admit, even Lord Redvyr.
Lifting my chin proudly, I followed Bes’s lead, rather excitedly anticipating the clan king’s expression when he saw me in this dress.
Chapter 9
REDVYR
