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He swung up into the saddle. “She’s a means to getting what I want.”

“She better be. And who could the immortal the assassin spoke of be?”

“There are only three others I know of that are considered immortals who are not gods, and they come from the underrealm.”

* * *

LAYALA

A bellchimed and a strong scent of floral potpourri hit Layala as she stepped into the dressmaker’s shop. Extravagant gowns hung in racks on every wall, aligned by color, darkest shades on the left side and white on the right and every color in between. Four of the most elegant dresses were fitted to mannequins around the large, open room. Skylights in the ceiling brightened the white stone floor and brought out the specks of crystal in the squares. To the far right, a three-step raised circular platform waited, half surrounded in mirrors, and a large dark brown armchair was set off to the side for a spectator. Layala took a step closer to an ivory sparkling ball gown on display in the window. It was adorned with thousands of silver crystals, and it glittered in the sun as radiant as a lake on a summer day. The train ran at least three feet with trails of shining silver whirls.

“It’s gorgeous,” Piper said. “It would be a perfect wedding dress.”

“You should try it on,” Layala said.

“I won’t be getting married anytime soon. I was thinking for you.”

“At this rate, I won’t be either,” Layala mumbled.

Piper’s brows tugged closer, and she opened her mouth to speak but another voice interrupted.

“Good morning, ladies.” Stepping through sheer curtains, a slender elf in fine off-white robes with a green trimmed neckline and dark hair pulled half back, strolled out from a back room. He clasped his hands before him, and his brown eyes gave both of them a head-to-toe scrutinization. After a moment, he wrinkled his nose. “How can I help you?”

Both Layala and Piper wore pants and carried more weapons than most males, not the typical attire for a maiden elf in Palenor. Upon looking down, Layala noted the trail of dirt they left in their wake across the white floor. With a blush warming Layala’s cheeks, she cleared her throat. “We need dresses.”

“I can see that.”

“For the graduation ball. Something elegant but not typical.” Layala tapped her toe on the floor scanning the room for something she had in mind. Most were pastel colors like Robin egg blue or soft yellow, pinks, and lavender but there was a group of deep maroons and blacks. “I need something—black. Something striking and bold.”

“There’s not time to make something new so it will have to be off the rack.” With a finger tapping his chin, he circled around Piper first. “You’ll be easy to fit—waist probably twenty-four inches, hips thirty-six. You’re average for a maiden of Palenor, if only a little stockier. I have just the thing too with that red hair.”

“Stocky?” Piper balked. “I’m not stocky.”

“I can tell in your shoulders you use those weapons you have on, and swinging a sword has made your back a little broader as well.”

Piper’s jaw dropped and she gave Layala ais he seriouslook.

He turned to Layala and raised an eyebrow. “And you are a little—curvier than most I dress. I’ll have to make adjustments for your wider hips, behind, and bust. Though your waist is still petite it will take adjustments as well. Don’t take that as disrespect. It’s simply a fact.”

Layala was used to hearing she wasn’t as thin and willowy as most of the she-elves so it wasn’t a shock but apparently Piper hadn’t heard that she wasn’t. “You’re strong, Pipe. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“No shame, I’m rather sure you both get plenty of attention. Beauty and grace with an edge. But I bet you probably scare off all the males with those weapons,” the elf tailor said and smiled, but let out a long breath when he scanned Layala’s form again. “Come, come, let’s get your measurements for certain.” He turned and his cloth boots barely made a sound as he started toward the back of the store. “Amelia, we have work to do! We got hips and shoulders!” He clapped his hands and the sound of it echoed off the high ceiling above, then waved for them to follow him.

“Maker above, could he make it any more obvious that we’re not small enough for his tastes?” Piper said as they trailed him through a sheer curtain. “I wonder if he knew who you were if he’d make such rude comments.”

“Please don’t mention my name,” Layala whispered. “What if he’s a radical who wants me dead?”

Piper leaned in closer. “It’s not like he’d be much of a challenge, if he was.”

A few minutes later, Layala stood in her undergarments behind a red velvet curtain. It was a small room with a single mirror and skylight above to give plenty of light. A female with straight blonde hair and a plain look about her for an elf stepped inside with a black gown draped over her arm. She reminded Layala of a mouse, timid and afraid to make eye contact.

“Mr. Drenovan said to put this on you first.” The tailor’s assistant produced a black corset from underneath the gown, and already Layala knew she’d be struggling to breathe. “It will help with the fitting.” Her gaze fell to Layala’s shoulder with the lily mark and flicked away as if she’d been struck.

“That’s fine.”

Layala braced herself as the assistant began jerking at the laces, closing in the bodice tighter. The assistant avoided looking her in the face and kept her concentration on her work. Layala cleared her throat quietly, disturbing the silence, “Have you dressed many maidens for the graduation ball tomorrow?”

“Several, Lady, but less than usual.”