I focus on him. “Antony?”
His voice is impossibly tight. “It would not be wise to wear that dress.”
The dress itself is far less important to me right now than Antony’s reaction to it.
Choosing to turn my back fully to it, I close the gap between him and me, reaching out, pausing only when the threat in his eyes grows to a dangerous level. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?”
He answers me with silence, but it seems Cassia isn’t as determined to stay quiet.
“I was supposed to burn that dress. I promised Antony I would.” She takes a deep, shaky breath. “I’m sorry, brother. I truly am. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It’s all we had left of her, and I?—”
Antony moves quickly, but it isn’t toward his sister. He sweeps the armor off his right hand, swipes his hand across the circlet at my wrist, and releases me from the chain.
His actions are abrupt, leaving me teetering on the spot.
Striding from the room, he throws back, “The past is gone,Cassia. Dead and buried. All I care about now is preparing Thyra to face our mother. Do whatever Thyra asks.”
I rub my wrist. Not because it hurts. But because, despite how troubled Antony clearly is, the sweep of his hand across my skin was gentle.
Cassia wrings her hands, and I’m having a hard time reconciling the warrior who balanced on a flying eagle, firing arrows and evading Ember fire, with the distressed woman standing in front of me.
“Cassia?” It’s all the prompting I’m willing to give. If she doesn’t want to explain, I’ll let it go.
She reaches for the dress on the shelf, her hands visibly shaking, her palms hovering before she closes her fingers around its folds, drawing it slowly outward.
The dress unfurls in her grasp, revealing a breathtaking bodice and a skirt that shimmers all the way to the floor.
It’s the kind of dress that belongs to a Queen, and oh, the hum the material makes when it unfolds is intoxicating.
An echo of a song lost to time slides through my hearing like a whisper in a breeze, the same melody I’m certain I heard when I unwrapped the Dragonstone Blade. Alluring and mesmerizing. Calming and exhilarating.
My eyes widen. “That dress is Lethian.”
Just like the silken ribbon that the blade was wrapped in. The same ribbon that now adorns my arm.
At Cassia’s nod, I try to comprehend the enormity of what I’m looking at. I was shocked to see as much ribbon as there was wrapped around the blade. Butthis…
I might not know much about the three kingdoms, but it’s common knowledge that Lethian silk is beyond rare. Let alone silver silk like this. As if it were woven from the finest metal and sung into the shape of a gown.
“This much Lethianthread is…”
“Priceless.” Cassia places the dress carefully on top of the bench.
Every other item around it now appears dull in comparison.
“This dress is said to have been sung for the very last Lethian Queen,” Cassi says. “Love and beauty were imbued into its threads. A song of strength that’s been lost over time.”
My forehead creases at her description of the song as representing love, beauty, and strength, since the same song had whispered around the Dragonstone Blade, and all I’d felt was pain. Agony. And grief at losing my father.
Cassia’s face is suddenly pale. “But to us, this dress represents only loss.”
I try to catch my breath. “Can you tell me why?”
“Because it was last worn by Antony’s mother.” Cassia’s smile is fleeting as she gazes down at the material, her fingertips lovingly brushing the glimmering material. “She was everything this dress embodied and more.”
I purse my lips, confused by what Cassia said. “I’m not sure I understand why a dress worn by your mother would?—”
Cassia jolts toward me, her hand outstretched. “Not my mother.Antony’smother. Our father’s first wife.”
