Page 12 of Crown of Wings (Fang & Fire #2)
W e break up shortly after that to return to our own chambers until the great dinner feast. After so much honesty in such tight quarters, I’m not especially hungry. Still, I know from experience that, no matter how dire the news, warriors of the realm can eat .
By the time I stalk out of my sleeping chamber and into the sitting room allocated to me, Nazar’s not only waiting for me, but Caleb is, too. I instantly detect a trap, and they don’t wait long to spring it.
Caleb speaks first, waving his right hand at me. “You’ve got to be kidding me. No. Go back and try again.”
I know exactly what he’s talking about, but that doesn’t make his censure any more tolerable.
If Fortiss’s honesty spell doesn’t wear off soon, there’s going to be bloodshed.
“I’m the lord of my own house, Caleb. I am not going to show up at a banquet of warriors wearing a dress! No one else is, why should I?”
Caleb folds his arms in a huff, but the most telling response is, as always, the silence that billows around Nazar like an unfurling cloud. I pivot on my heel to glare at him. “What?”
Even when he’s judging me, it’s reassuring just to stand in the presence of the priest of the Tenth House.
One day, hopefully, he’ll serve as the priest of the Thirteenth House, should we ever have two stones to build upon each other.
For now, however, I’m grateful that he decided to remain behind with me at the First, versus returning with my father to the Tenth.
It might have been an easy decision for the itinerant priest, but it’s one that may have lasting repercussions.
Nazar, for his part, puffs on his pipe, a whisp of sweet-smelling smoke curling up to accompany my rebuke. “You’re a woman, Lady Talia,” he informs me, not even trying to hide his amusement. “No amount of warrior clothing will change that.”
“I know I’m a woman!” I grouse. “But where is it written that women may only wear dresses and gowns, while men may wear breeches when it pleases them and robes when it doesn’t? Why could I not show up in a cowl and feathered headdress if it made me happy to do so? I don’t need to wear a gown.”
“You don’t,” Nazar agrees, with such easy capitulation that I already know I’m trapped for all that I cannot see the snare. “Who is in the feasting hall will be put in his place if you come out in the vestments of a man?”
“Well, Tennet for one. Since he is vying to ensure I return to the Twelfth House as his bride, he’s sorely in need of being put in his place.”
“And you would trust a bolt of cloth to do that work in your place?”
“That’s not the point , Nazar—” I begin, but he holds up a hand to silence me.
“Who else? The lord protector? Your own men? Would they treat you with greater dignity and respect if you were wearing armor, and diminish and demean you if you stood before them in a gown and jewels if you wished to do so?”
“I don’t wish to do so.”
His hand descends in an easy wave. “That wasn’t the question.”
I scowl at him. “My men know that I’m a woman. And they have seen me fight.”
“They’ve seen you call your Divh.” He nods. “And command a battalion of no less than thirty others, who cleaved to you simply because you called them. What were you wearing when you did so?”
“Blood, mostly,” Caleb puts in helpfully when I don’t respond quickly enough.
“And then a heavy robe, no? Wincing from your injuries, standing beside Fortiss after you awoke for the first time when all the fighting was done.”
“Fair enough. They’ve seen me in something other than battle gear, but this isn’t battle gear. This is simply more comfortable and as formal as Fortiss will be—Tennet too, unless I miss my mark. I’m their equal.”
“You’re their equal whether you show up covered in gold or blood, I agree,” Nazar says. “Who else will take their cues from your attire?”
I wave that off. “Nobody else that I care about.”
“Are there any from the Savasci that remain behind?”
I snort. The rogue band of women fighters who had come to the Tournament of Gold to harry its competitors and steal what they might had become my adopted sisters, but the bulk of their party had returned to the Western Realms to see to their families and extended people and learn what they might about the threat that lay beyond the borders.
Still, Nazar’s right. A small group of women have remained, training with me in the hopes they will one day become banded warriors in their own right.
“They’ll be at the banquet, for sure. They like to eat. ”
“And what will they be wearing?”
“Whatever they want.” I cross my arms defiantly. “They have dressed in gowns or breeches depending on their mood. Gowns allow them to blend.”
He nods gravely. “And for them, blending is how they survive.”
I understand the way of the warrior, and I can see the trap Nazar is about to spring on me. I can also see that it’s not one from which I can easily escape. Still, I roll my eyes. “I know what you’re doing.”
“Well, I don’t,” Caleb protests as Nazar smirks around the tip of his pipe, the fragrant smoke still curling around him in equally smug wisps. “So what if they wear gowns to blend? They’re not you. What they do and why they do it shouldn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I agree. “But they wear gowns to blend—to survive—because for them, the smartest thing they can do is to blend. To bend with the prevailing wind, much like the servants on the floor and in the kitchens keep their gaze on their feet and their voices quiet. They blend .”
I can tell the moment during my little speech when he understands.
To my annoyance, though, he merely bounces up and down on his toes.
“But you don’t have to blend, because you’re blessed Talia of the Thirteenth House, strong and fierce.
You don’t look like anyone up on that dais and you’re proud of it.
” He grins at me. “So you’re going to wear a dress. ”
I curl my lip in disgust. “I think I preferred it when you were confused.”
Still, I turn on my heel and stomp back into my inner chamber, unsurprised when the door is opened again behind me to admit a wide-eyed maid. Dressing according to my station is a far sight more complicated at the First House than it was at the Tenth.
“Let me guess,” I huff, as the young woman whom I’ve never met before bustles over to the large chest and pulls out enough rough silk to blanket the room. “Nazar already stuffed a gown in there, knowing I would change my mind. What’s your name? I’m sorry I don’t know.”
“Alis, Lady Talia, and this won’t take but a few moments,” she promises. “Just hold your arms up…?”
The chemise is first, thrown over me and cinched tight with laces, its soft linen nicer than anything I’ve ever worn.
I savor its light touch against my skin, because the rest of my ensemble seems custom-made to weigh me down.
Alis produces an underdress of deep emerald green—a shade far darker than Tenth House green—shot through with silver.
The dress’s fitted bodice requires a second round of lacing, and then she lugs out the heavy gown of pure silver.
The hem of this gown is heavy with green and gold embroidery, all vines and tiny flowers, and the sleeves…
oh, the sleeves. They’re ridiculously long, falling nearly to the floor, lined with dark green silk that shimmers as Alis lifts them onto my arms. “How do you expect me to eat without dragging these through the food?” I grumble, glaring at the offending fabric.
“And how in the Light can I fight in this?”
Alis only smiles. “You’ll look splendid, Lady Talia.”
She’s not finished, of course. She fastens a girdle of polished bronze links around my waist, and it sits low over my hips, its pendant hanging just slightly too long for comfort.
My jewelry is next—a delicate golden chain with an emerald the size of teardrops nestled against my collarbone, and matching earrings that tug at my ears.
The final touch is the shoes—soft leather slippers dyed silver to match the gown.
Simple, at least compared to the rest, but I know my feet will ache before the evening is through.
“All this effort,” I sigh, adjusting the emerald at my throat, wondering where Nazar conjured it up from, “just for me to annoy people.”
Alis steps back, satisfied. “You’ll annoy them so much they’ll never forget you,” she says, and I grimace at her.
“You heard that, in there? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were already on hand.
“I was waiting just outside the door. Master Nazar wasn’t entirely sure you’d allow yourself to be dressed.”
“He wasn’t?” That at least makes me happy. “Good. He shouldn’t be so certain he can outmaneuver me.”
“Never that, Lady Talia,” Alis says firmly, her deft fingers pulling my hair back into ornate combs. The feel of feminine adornment in my hair unnerves me more than the rest of my costume combined. I squint at Alis as she fusses over me.
“You think I’m making the right choice? Dressing as a lady instead of how I prefer?”
She bites her lip for a moment, as if debating how honest she should be, though I suspect she, too, is under the lingering influences of Fortiss’s spell.
Still, I don’t press her for a response.
I know what it’s like to be unsure of whether an honest comment would merit me a laugh, a word of ready agreement, or a slap across the face.
No female servant of mine will ever be forced to speak when they would rather stay silent…
or dress in a gown when they’d rather wear breeches.