Rellnodded. “Got it.”
And then she was gone, following Symond out the door.
The room felt heavier in their absence.
Elora stared at the door long after Violette and Symond had disappeared through it, her thoughts lingering on the uneasy weight in her chest. Something about splitting up didn’t sit right with her, and she had the gnawing feeling she wouldn’t see them again as soon as she’d like. Well, Violette anyway, she could do without seeing Symond again.
She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to shake the thought away. Worrying wouldn’t do her any good now.
“You’re going to burn a hole through that door if you keep looking at it like that.”
Elora jumped,her heart slamming against her ribs. She whirled around to find Rell standing much closer than she expected.
He smirked, clearly amused by her reaction. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” He held out a folded bundle of clothes. “Here,” he said, shaking them slightly for emphasis.
The fabric was worn but clean, smelling faintly of soap and something vaguely metallic—probably from being stored near weapons. She unfolded the bundle and pulled out a shirt,setting it on the table before holding up the pants.
Dark gray leggings.
She lifted an eyebrow, looking up at Rell. “Pants?”
Rell crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall. “A dress isn’t practical,” he said easily. “It only takes one tangle to trip you up and send you right into Fane’s waiting arms.”
Elora pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to argue. She knew he was right, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. Instead, she muttered, “It’s not very ladylike.”
Rell barked out a laugh, shaking his head as he mockingly rolled his eyes. “You’re not at the prestigious Institute anymore. Trust me, around here, you don’t want to be perceived as ‘ladylike.’ You want to be perceived as someone who can defend herself.”
Elora narrowed her eyes slightly, skeptical.
Rell pushed off the wall, standing straighter as he closed the space between them. “I won’t make you wear pants,” he said, his voice light, almost teasing. “But you’re not wearing a dress, so you choose—pants or no pants.”
He let his gaze sweep over her slowly before flashing her a wink and a flirtatious smirk.
Elora blushed.
Heat crept up her neck before she could stop it, caught somewhere between intrigued and uncomfortable. She didn’t know whether to step back or slap him. Maybe both.
“Pants,” she said quickly, her voice tight as she snatched them up and turned on her heel.
Rell chuckled behind her as she strode toward her room, the sound far too pleased for her liking.
Elora stepped back into the common room, rolling her shoulders as she adjusted to the unfamiliar fit of the leggings. They were snug but comfortable, far more practical than the tattered dress she had been running around in. The light gray top she wore was simple and fitted, its sleeves ending just past her elbows, the fabric lightweight but sturdy.
The top was contained under a leather vest, the fabric thick but flexible and reinforced with subtle padding along the sides and shoulders. It wasn’t armor, but it would absorb a hit better than bare fabric.
The brown cloak she had kept draped over her shoulders felt heavier than before, its edges frayed, tattered from years of wear.
Rell looked her up and down, his sharp eyes assessing—not in a leering way, but with the keen scrutiny of someone appraising whether or not you were built to survive.
“Better,” he said, nodding slightly before grabbing something from the nearby table. He held out a brown leather belt with several loops and compartments. Elora fastened it around her waist.
Rell tilted his head, giving her another once-over before smirking. “Now you almost look like you belong here,” he said, crossing his arms. “All that’s missing is the attitude.”
Elora arched an eyebrow. “And what, exactly, is the attitude?”
He grinned. “Like you’d stab a guy for looking at you wrong.”
She scoffed, adjusting her belt one last time. “I don’t need to stab anyone,” she said coolly. “That’s what you’re here for.”
