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“Hey, I’ve introduced you to many great Wielders,” Amelia said, outraged. “I can’t help it that you’re too picky.”

“I’m not too picky. Is it too much to ask for a handsome, funny, smart, academically curious, and daring man?” He turned to Mira. “Know any of those?”

Was he asking her for dating advice? “I’m afraid not. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date myself.”

Amelia’s smile grew wider, making Mira instantly tense. “Well, that’s about to change, isn’t it? Dawson is taking her to the Solstice Ball at the council.”

He had told her? That seemed so unlike him.

“Is he now?” Harrington’s eyebrows rose with interest.

This was Mira’s idea of the dark dimensions.

“It’s not a big deal. He needed someone to go with. We’re just friends.”

“Ha!” Amelia’s scoff echoed through the gardens. For such a petite person, she had a big voice. “Sure. Dawson making friends. He really is a people person.”

Evren downed the rest of his Goldwine with a chuckle. “I don’t think Dawson has ever taken anyone on a date.”

That couldn’t be true. “Right,” Mira laughed. “You can’t tell me that Aidric Dawson hasn’t been with tons of women since the war.”

“Oh, he’s been with tons of women,” Harrington clarified. “Just not on dates.”

Lovely.

“Aidric Dawson is going to a ball of his own free will, and he told you about this?” Evren asked Amelia.

“Spheres, no. Dawson actually talking about shit?” She blew a raspberry. “I fucking wish. He just asked me about my favorite dress designer. The rest I had to painstakingly draw out of him.”

Mira’s hand clenched around her wine flute. He was going to buy her a dress?

“No need to look so shocked.” Amelia waved a gloved hand in Mira’s direction dismissively. “Dawson has exceptional taste in clothes.”

That was the least of her worries. Buying her a dress made this increasingly feel like a real date.

“In fact—” Amelia pulled out her coin, flipped it, and disappeared. Before Mira could even ask where she was going, she reappeared with a black box in her hands. “I picked it up for him this afternoon. I am very curious to see what he chose for you.”

Mira held her breath, cursing Dawson silently. He saw her discomfort when he had said she was going to be his date, and this was his way of making her squirm.

“Open it,” Amelia urged.

She took the box and lifted the top, uncovering a mountain of black tissue paper that was held together by a silver ribbon.

Back in magic base school, she and Ella used to love to look at dresses for dances. Now, her only concern was if the dress would cover her scar.

When she lifted the silk dress out of the box, she wanted to shake her head. Of course. She should have known. The material cascaded down like it was made out of liquid silver.

She wanted to send an angry scroll to Dawson, written entirely in non-magic ink.

But then she saw the sleeves, made out of intricate lace, and nothing else mattered anymore. Not even the fact that he was dressing her in Wielder silver as if he wanted to brand her. As long as it would cover her scar, she was fine with it.

Did he know it bothered her to have it uncovered? Or was it coincidence? Sometimes it felt like he could read her thoughts by simply looking at her.

But while her arms would be covered, most of her back would be exposed.

“And?” Amelia asked, barely able to stay in her seat, both of her feet tapping the floor nervously. “What do you think?”

Mira cleared her throat, looking at the dress, which glowed in the moonlight. “It’s beautiful.”