Chapter 3
1061 Words
I woke late in the morning. Fiena sat beneath the window, the heavy curtains open just enough to bathe her in the overly bright morning light whilst she altered one of my dresses and her impossibly neat braids shone red where the sunlight touched them.
"I'm getting fat," I observed from the bed.
"Nonsense," she replied looking up with a smile. "You've just been around the castle a bit more recently than normal."
"At the tavern, don't you mean?"
"Well, yes," she was amused. "More nights than not."
"Akyran's in a mood," I told her. "He likes to ease it with hunting and ale."
"And you, my lady?" She teased. "Are you in a mood?"
I laughed. "Well, I can't let him drink alone, can I? There's no harm to a bit of ale."
"Except to my fingers from altering your dresses," she replied. "But the prince likes a bit of a curve on a woman."
I sighed. "Akyran doesn't see me that way," I told her.
"Mmm," she set the sewing to the side. "Shall I run your bath?"
"Yes please."
Perhaps if I looked more like the courtesans he favoured, Akyran might finally see me as more than Ecaeris his friend. My lifestyle, however, saw me missing more meals than I ate. If we were not hunting, or fighting, we were riding... Perhaps if I spent more time in courtly pursuits, I thought, as I sat up. But spending hours listening to bards and eating sweet meats, sewing embroidery, or playing cards with dignified reserve held no appeal.
I was a war mage, after all, it was my nature to battle, I preferred to be on the move, rather than sitting still, the harder and more daring the adventure, the better.
I bathed and stood in the dressing room with Fiena and Tillie, scrutinizing my clothing. They regarded it as a serious occupation, whereas I found it more a frustration. Court fashions came and went like the seasons. It was a never-ending task to keep up with which type of sleeve and what manner of embellishment was current in vogue, and which were not.
I, on the other hand, liked what I liked, and knew what I did not like, and my wardrobe choices reflected that regardless of the vagaries of court fashion. The current fashion at the Court of Light was featherlight and sheer fabrics in tiered pale colours, floating from fragile shoulder clasps, or woven into bodices, whereas my personal choices were more dark jewel tones, in order to hide the blood stains that accompanied most of my activities, in heavier fabrics for better wear, and minimal embellishment and undergarments. And usual tunics and trousers rather than dresses.
Presenting well in court, however, was a requirement, and that meant finding a middle ground between personal preference and fashion on occasions such as this.
"You should wear a dress," Fiena said hopefully. "It is court, after all."
"I'll wear a dress tonight," I wanted to wear that dress. From the moment I had seen the fabric, I had wanted that dress. I wondered what Akyran would make of it. Even he would have to notice me in that dress.
"Yes, but that's that dress and tonight," Fiena replied. "You should wear the dark blue today," she drew it out, flaring it over her arm.
"Very well," I did not mind the blue. It was cut severely, high necked, and buttoned up the front which allowed me to leave a few buttons undone at the throat. It was the feminine version of how Akyran dressed and from his tailor, one of the random gifts he gave to me when the mood struck him, or something caught his eye. Normally a gift from Akyran was a weapon, or armour, but he had been expanding to clothing and trinkets recently. "The blue it is."
They knew better than to try an elaborate hairstyle, quickly winding the hair back from my face and binding it behind so it would not fall forwards into my eyes.
Dressed to all our satisfaction, I left them to pack.
The hall would normally be overflowing with feasters attending the king, but in his absence, Akyran sat at the head table, and oversaw a room empty but for a handful of minor Lords currying his favour, and the servants that attended them. I sat to Akyran's left, in the seat he normally occupied when his father was present.
"You're wearing a dress," he commented, serving me a cut of the pastry that sat before him. "One I bought you."
"I like this one and my maids tell me a dress is appropriate."
"Hmm," he slid a look at me under his eyelashes. "The colour is good."
"Thank you," I was pleased he noticed. It was not the first time I had worn the dress around him, however, and I wondered why, today, it was something he found worth of commenting on.
"It's not what you're wearing tonight, are you?" he added.
"No," I cut a bite of the pastry. "I have an evening dress for tonight."
"Jewels," he chewed his mouthful.
I frowned at him, wondering at his sudden interest. "I guess," I agreed. "The dress doesn't need them, however."
He raised his eyebrows. "You sound like a girl," he observed.
"I am a girl," I reminded him, pointedly.
"Yes," he replied, a flush touching his cheeks. "But you sound like a girl, girl."
"What do girls sound like?" I wondered.
"Dresses that don't need jewels. Like they're sentient."
I frowned at him. "Why are we discussing dresses and jewels, Akyran?" I asked him.
"I don't know," he replied with exasperation. "I guess because... if you look the part, Ecaeris, they'll leave me be."
I stared at him. What part, I wanted to ask, but I feared shattering the delicate hope that had blossomed at his words. "I'll get Fiena to pack some jewels if you think it necessary, Akyran."
"Thank you," he was relieved I wasn't asking any awkward questions. "Can you ride in that dress?" he added. "I had thought we'd play a round of chovgan this afternoon."
"I'll make sure Fiena packs something appropriate," I replied, reaching across him to spear some baked fish onto my plate. "I'd hate for you to blame me wearing a dress for your loss."
"Our loss," he corrected.
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