“Oh, we’ll tag along,” Kleos said, jumping to her feet.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Lucian agreed, with a slight degree of sarcasm. “Cas, make yourself at home. If you lose your way, Cassius may help.” Cassius was already out of the room. “Oryou could ask the house for directions, too. It’ll answer if it feels like it.”
House was a slight understatement from the short tour they gave me. We only covered one of the wings, and I counted dozens of rooms.
“As much as the prospect of getting lost in this bloody labyrinth is appealing, I’ll accompany you,” I stated, immediately earning an adorable little scowl from the pink doll.
In the hour we spent day drinking in the blue drawing room, her hair had gotten less pink, the silver shining through, eating at the dye.
There was something appealing to this mercurial pixie, and also strangely familiar, though I couldn’t place her in the memories I was still attempting to sift through. Besides, her blatant mistrustentertained me. It was rather rare to find anyone so open and honest about their feelings.
“I don’t see why not. Let’s just find you something to wear,” Lucian offered.
I glanced down to my shirtless chest. It was pure muscle, defined, hard earned, and I quite liked displaying it. That said, my pants were rather ill fitted, so I followed my host back to the spare bedroom he offered me.
There were several pieces of clothing in the wardrobe, but none were likely to fit. After rifling through it all, Lucian sighed. “Follow me.”
He led the way to what must have been his own bedroom, given the scent and the lived-in feeling of the place. It adjoined a large walk-in closet.
One half was full of dresses, high heels on display, and given that they looked too small for Lucian, I had to conclude they belonged to his ginger half.
“Here, the pants I designed during my court-appointed stint as a protector. The fabric’s adaptive.”
I accepted the dark fitted trousers, passing my hand over the fabric which hummed with residual magic.
This fabric was a lot more thanadaptive. I whistled appreciatively. “The finest wool and silk, imbued with shields. Magical protection, spell detection, delay, repellent. Somefireproofing?” I identified, sensing the hints rippling off the fabric. “However did you manage all that without the fabric catching fire?”
“My patented permanence spell. A bitch to brew, but it allows me to stabilize each layer without them interfering with each other. Give it a try.”
Lucian was perhaps an inch or two taller than me, but I was considerably bulkier around the shoulders and thighs. His waist was also slimmer. I wouldn’t have thought it possible for me to fit into his pants, but I watched the fabric glimmer as it stretched over my muscles, adjusting to my size.
“The shaping spell was technically to allow me to move however I want, not to mention, put whatever I want in my pockets without fucking with the silhouette, but I figured it would work.”
I tentatively bent my knees, feeling the fabric expand and adapt, ridiculously comfortable.
“There are gods who’d pay your weight in Olympian gold for this,” I asserted, feeling the truth in my words.
“We try our utmost to not bring the attention of Olympians to us, right now,” he replied, handing me a shirt and a fitted coat.
Both fit, but I removed the coat, not fond of weight around my shoulders.
“It’s rather chilly out there, mate,” he warned me.
I considered the information.
I may not know who I was yet, but I was starting to understand what I was. “Not to me.”
5
SILVER
Ibrushed the soft fabric of the black and white A-line vintage marvel I snagged on eBay, about three sizes too big, and a little motheaten at a time. Thankfully, having introduced my tailor Rin to her girlfriend, my coworker Isla, I got a nice discount on the adjustments. It looked perfect, fitting like a glove, enhancing my curves and brushing against my knees.
“Holiest of shits, Silver. Where were you hiding those?” Isla demanded, eyes fixed on my tits.
I rolled my eyes.
“Under reinforced gear, like everyone else.”
