Her face reddened.
“You played a key part in our job,” Nythir said gently. “The least we can do is replace your clothes. Add a new satchel and cloak to the order. I’ll pay when it’s delivered.”
“Green,” Vorrik said immediately. “Make her a green dress. It’s my favorite color.”
Helga turned to Essie expectantly.
“Well what would you like, Miss…?”
Essie froze.
Nythir leaned down. “Introduce yourself.”
“I’m… Essie,” she said, curtsying.
Helga clapped with glee. “Oh she’s refined! She’ll clean up beautifully. Now, are you looking for a dress or something more in Mrs. Lyssara’s style?”
“A dress,” Essie said. “Please.”
“And color?”
Nythir leaned in again, voice low. “Green would suit you.”
Her cheeks flushed pink.
“I-I… I'll go with green.”
Before her sparks could give her away, Nythir took her hand, covering the glow.
Her hand was warm.
His chest felt warmer.
When he asked her to hide her magic, she went utterly still.
Her hands turned cold.
He frowned—but Helga interrupted, bustling between them with measuring tape and questions Essie could never answer.
Not style.
Not fabric.
Not color.
Not even footwear preference.
She looked at others for permission with every question. Like a girl raised to never choose anything for herself.
Lyssara eventually answered for her.
When Helga asked about footwear, he saw the exact moment Essie realized she was still barefoot. She wiggled her toes and looked around, awestruck that there was no one reprimanding her over it.
They found plain brown leather boots, sturdy and worn-in. Perfect for travel. And most importantly, ready for her size.
Her dress would take a bit longer.
“See you at Moonpetal,” Lyssara said, shooing them toward the inn.
