Lyons and Emerick take their leave soon after that. Emerick cordially offers to escort me to the feast, and I graciously accept (not that saying no was ever an option). He promises to return in an hour’s time, and I’m left alone to get ready.
The dress Mariana set aside for me is lovely. It’s far more intricate than I ever could have dreamed up—an emerald green frock (apparently the color isn’t entirely taboo around here) with gold trim and an even more plunging neckline than usual. Once I’m dressed, she twists and twirls my hair into another fabulous updo. She even sprinkles enough makeup onto my face to mostly hide the fading bruises. By the time she’s finished with all that, Emerick is knocking again.
He cleans up well, I have to admit—with the blond hair tied back, it’s not quite so
