It was a soft lavender color that made her feel like she was lying in a field of flowers, drunk off summer wine. The bodice was short and tight, starting at the small of her waist where it cinched in tightly, to the bottom of her chest where it flared slightly, doing little beyond cupping the very bottom of her breasts. It hadn’t even closed entirely, leaving a gap a few fingers wide where the lacing cord criss-crossed below her chest.
She would have been entirely exposed were it not for the gossamer underdress—she knew it had a fancy name but she didn’t remember what it was—though that helped little. It had been white before she put it on, but it now appeared pink from all the skin showing through. The transparent sleeves draped off her shoulders, billowing down her arms and trailing below her fingertips.
She wanted to demand Karvek tell her what he wanted, why he wouldn’t just reveal his plans. At least then Iryana wouldn’t be blindsided by whatever horrible things he made her do. There was so much pressure riding on her impressing him, especially if he was really considering letting her into the brigade fully.
It didn’t matter, she reminded herself harshly.
It didn’t matter what the others thought, either. Vaneshta and Pepha had averted their gaze when she slipped down the floor, Pyetar nowhere to be found. A few of the soldiers she’d passed had stared, jaws dropped, before quickly looking away.
Karvek’s did nothing of the sort. His eyes perused her carefully, a smirk pulling at his sharp mouth. There was victory and satisfaction in that look. Like things were shaping up nicely for his plans.
He was dressed in fine clothes of his own, looking far more refined than she knew him to be. He didn't wear armor, just a jacket buttoned up his chest, with purple and silver embroidery and geometric shapes stitched along the front.
“That dress belonged to the Earl of Myura River’s personal courtesan.” Karvek pulled her beside him as they walked, and Iryana let him. “I always wondered what it would look like on a beautiful woman.”
She wasn’t capable of pretending to be shy or demure, and Karvek probably wouldn’t have believed it anyway, but she tried to channel some of the excitement that hummed inside her as she met his gaze. His smirk grew into a satisfied grin.
Iryana wrapped her hand around his offered arm. “Did you just want my company, or am I going to help you?”
“Can’t it be a bit of both?” He chuckled, but she could see the glint in his eye. It reminded her of when they scaled the walls at Midmarket.
“Of course.”
“What do you think of the dress?”
She looked down at the flowing lavender fabric and exposed skin, and swallowed. As much as she wanted to hate it, she didn’t.
“It feels like a different kind of armor,” she answered honestly.
Iryana wasn’t modest, but the traditional clothes she had grown up in were practical, fit for a climate that barely warmed past chilly. She had never walked around dressed half as scandalously, but she wasn’t going to cower in it.
Perhaps it was the magic woven into every thread of the dress, but she felt confident. Like she had some power of her own.
Karvek chuckled, patting her hand. “I knew you were adaptable.”
Was this what he was preparing her for by inviting her to that party?
“Did your meetings today go according to plan?” she asked softly, careful to word it in a way that didn’t ask for details.
If the King Commander really knew that Karvek wasn’t going to follow him, it felt strange that he included Karvek at all in these meetings. Unless the King Commander was still trying to win him over. Or perhaps it was all for show.
“They are shaping up nicely.”
“Tonight is just a gathering? A party of sorts?”
“Indeed. Ivan is gathering the brigade leaders to celebrate our cooperation and a successful day of meetings.” His lips smirked at that. “He hopes to make us happier, more complacent. Tonight the real work begins.”
Iryana nodded, hiding her disappointment when he didn’t explain further. They walked quietly after that, a couple of Karvek’s soldiers trailing behind them.
Based on the others meandering in the same direction, her guess was that each leader was allowed a companion and a couple of guards, something to make them feel secure. The Rednian soldiers led the way through another courtyard and into a large, simple stone keep. A few small groups of other finely dressed couples and armored guards inspected the others just like she was doing.
Iryana’s eyes widened when they entered the castle’s great hall. Great columns stretched up to the ceiling, tables and cushioned benches lined the edges of the room, and people gathered around them. They were probably soldiers from the King Commander’s division, their family members, and others loyal to him. Only a few were armored and visibly armed, but that meant little when most of them could summon their forgings at a moment’s notice.
The center of the room was dominated by a large table, intricate wood carvings dancing up the legs and along the edges. She could have lain down in the middle, stretched out, and still come nowhere close to touching the edges.
The table basked in a warm glow from the lanterns placed around the bases of the columns, but the rest of the room was darker, shadowed.
There were groups of young men and women—mostly women—wearing scandalous clothing. Some were revealing in a way that rivaled Iryana’s gown, though their clothes weren’t nearly as fine. And no one else had fire-woven silks draped over their bodies.
