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‘Altered,’ Hawthorne corrected her, his voice rough. ‘I had it altered for you. Audra knew where some of the women’s armour was hidden away from before the laws changed… I suggested it was time we got some pieces out of storage.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I know the pain of having ill-fitting armour…’ His hand went absentmindedly to the shoulder Thea knew plagued him. ‘Figured it was one less thing you’d complain about if we sorted it from the outset,’ he added casually.

At last, Thea turned to him. ‘How did you know my size?’

‘I have some familiarity with your body, Thea…’ His voice was husky.

She blushed, her mind instantly taking her back to being naked in his armchair, his hands all over her, his mouth and tongue —

He cleared his throat again. ‘I had a rough idea, but I asked Farissa to get your sister’s measurements. You’re similar sizes.’

Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, Thea returned her gaze to the armour. ‘Can I…?’ She didn’t care if it sounded silly, if her excitement was childish.

‘Try it on,’ Hawthorne said quietly. ‘I’ll leave —’

‘Don’t,’ Thea said, too quickly, her face heating again as she caught his gaze. ‘I… I don’t know how… how to put it on.’

Hawthorne seemed frozen for a moment, before colour tipped his cheeks and he straightened. ‘Right.’

Ignoring the fluttering in her stomach, Thea lifted her still-damp sleeves uselessly. ‘So…?’

The Warsword hesitated one more beat before launching into action. ‘Leave your undershirt on. Get out of those pants.’

Thea bit her lip, but did as he bid, pushing her boots off at the heel and sliding the damp fabric down her legs.

‘Here,’ he said, passing her the leathers and averting his eyes, like he hadn’t had his face between her legs only the night before last. The thought made a smile tug at Thea’s lips.

With her skin damp, she struggled to slide the new pants up her lower half, and soon she was sweating with the effort.

‘You alright there?’ Hawthorne quipped from where he faced the wall.

‘I need a minute.’

She could have sworn she heard a soft chuckle.

At last, she had the leather pants on. ‘Alright. Next?’

Hawthorne turned, his eyes roaming across her tightly clad legs for a moment. ‘Greaves,’ he said, businesslike as he handed them to her. ‘They protect your shins. There’s two buckles at the back.’

Thea fitted the sheaths of leather to her shins and reached around the back to her calves.

‘Here,’ Hawthorne said, lowering himself onto one knee.

Desire coursed through Thea at the sight. The last time he’d been on his knees…

But the Warsword pulled her leg up, placing her foot on his knee and reaching around to the buckles at her calf. ‘I don’t want to be here all night,Apprentice.’

Deft fingers fastened the two clasps and then placed her foot back on the ground before tending to the second greave. Thea felt like she should say something, but the words tangled on the tip of her tongue and all she could do was watch the warrior before her, his dark brow furrowed as he finished with the last buckle and gently returned her foot to the floor.

Her breath caught in her throat as he stood, towering over her as always, before he turned to the mannequin and removed the vest from its torso.

‘Arms up,’ he told her.

She lifted her hands into the air and he slipped the leather creation over her head, pulling it down over her torso. It was black, with studded and embossed detailing across the breast, and far lighter than Thea had anticipated.

She twisted to look at Hawthorne, but he held her in place. ‘Stop moving,’ he said, a note of laughter in his tone. ‘It laces up at the side here.’ He pulled on a leather cord to demonstrate.

‘Like a corset,’ she blurted.

‘Corsets lace up at the back, Princess,’ he murmured.