My throat dried up. I knew what this was. Lifting the outfit, I held it up to the candlelight.
A tunic of delicate lavender silk, and a sturdy leather corset dyed deepest purple—like my eyes. The uniform female myrmidons of Tirnanog would have worn.
"It was your mother's," Father said. "I was getting it tailored to fit you." He sighed. "Why don't you try it on?" He stepped out, closing the door behind him.
For a moment, I was frozen, trying to envision my mother clad in this uniform.
Then I was ripping off my dress, eager to put it on.
The armor was beyond beautiful. Silver embroideries covered the leather, painting the great tree of Tirnanog and its leaves. The silk flowed like a waterfall, with a scarf that streamed down my back to my knees and a skirt that gave it almost a ballroom flair.
I laced the bracers on and set the final piece of my head: a thin circle of twigs decorated with lavender petals.
Grabbing my belt, I tied it—and Cierthine—around my waist. The black and violet blade looked like part of the uniform.
Lifting my chin, I stared into the mirror. A regal warrior stared back.
The unknown could be anything. The invisible mother I'd never known was, to me, a warrior. A queen. Relentless and brave.
If I could picture her in my head, I could emulate her. And perhaps I would live long enough to return home, and dig her a proper grave—in the dead, empty city she'd left behind.
Chapter 14
Liam
It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Mare and I were not related by blood. The two of us often forgot.
Seeing Mare wearing Tirnanog's armor reminded me that we had different mothers.
No matter how much I wished I could forget mine.
My adopted sister was performing her usual theatrics—standing tall, wearing insincere smiles and bravado while responding to every comment with sarcasm.
She was terrified inside.
Most people didn't notice how she hesitated before speaking, how she winced after making a snide comment. Choosing her words, wondering if she'd misspoken.
She'd grown adept at hiding it.
I held her elk's reins, watching her and Father speaking inside the city gates. Saying their goodbyes.
Clutching the leather straps, I turned to Paragon Tiernan.
Speaking to the man was intimidating. Half-breeds like me were regarded as scum in most places. To Solhearts, we were more like personal insults—stains on their expensive silk coats.
Stains that should be eradicated, not merely reminded of their place.
Swallowing my fear, I addressed the vaunted 'hero.' "Listen—taking Mare to a battlefield is only going to put you in danger. Let me come with you. I can watch her for you."
Paragon Tiernan fixed his molten gold eyes on me. It took everything I had not to flinch.
"No," he said firmly. "I don't involve civilians in my affairs."
"I'm not a civilian. I'm her brother."
The Paragon chucked. "Forgive the assumption, but you don't look like a soldier."
"Neither is Mare."
