Page 113 of Lady Knight and the Thief

“And I presume these will be our garments?” Cypress didn’t know why she sounded so…formal.

She’d barely slept a wink at all last night. Through the twilight hours, Cypress had lain there with hope that Torren wouldsay something,dosomething to acknowledge the ache between them.

The most he’d done was insist on his half of the mattress, as it wasbig enough for both of them.

Torrens's hands had never roamed, never traced the length of her back as she’d wished in the middle of the night.

No, Torren Lefay had been aperfectgentleman.

And Cypress was unreasonably annoyed by it.

The carriage jolted forward just before Torren said, “See for yourself, Lass.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but lifted the lid without comment. Wrought iron was delicately formed around the edges of the lid and was cast into hinges and latches. If Cypress wasn’t mistaken, the impressions looked decidedly identical to the Winged Hounds of the Hunt.

Inside the trunk lay a pair of bundled items, their masks, a handful of jewels, and the forged invitation on thick, embossed cardstock.

Cypress selected the bundle that was slightly more voluminous on the assumption that it would be her gown.

The bundle was held together by a thin rope, not unlike the one she wore around her armored corset, but in a more vibrant green than the black she favored.

Cypress pulled the rope holding the bundle together, revealing the dress's skirt. The fabric glittered with the same unusual iridescence as the other dresses she’d worn, each crafted by Fair Folk hands.

This gown was a deep purple shade. The sleeves of the garment were just as iridescent, the lengths of fabric nearly as long as the skirts themselves. The dress dipped low to the middle of her chest, and Cypress couldn’t help but feel as if she would be too…vulnerablein a dress like this.

Cypress knew better than to wear her armored corset over the dress, but without it, she felt naked—vulnerable in more ways than one.

Torren must have noticed her discomfort because he softly said, “If you look, I’m sure there will be a matching corset in the trunk, Lass.”

Cypress shot him a look out of the corner of her eye. “How do you know that?”

“Because I asked for one,” He said simply, then grabbed his bundle from the trunk and unwound the cord.

Cypress watched him look through the clothes for a moment before she said, “Thank you.”

She looked away before the comment registered, going back to her investigation of the contents of the trunk.

Sure enough, under the handful of jewelry stashed in small black velvet pouches was a corset in a matching color. Cypress could tell it was armored– likely more so than the one currently around her waist– by the weight of it.

Her current corset was made of brown leather with some tooled patterns, but this new one was crafted of black leather. Exceptionallydetailed leaf-and-vine decorations ran along its borders. Copper grommets adorned the garment, though she knew the metal was too soft to support it alone. Through the grommets, ribbons matching her dress fabric wove in and out.

Cypress couldn’t begin to articulate how talented the hands must be to craft such a corset. Every inch outshone her current one, and Cypress itched to slip it over her body.

“You’re welcome, Lass. We’ll stop in Lostgate just before the Keep for you to change into it.”

Cypress shook her head. “No need. We can stop on the road somewhere, and I’ll put it in the carriage. We don’t need more of a trail of unusual activity for Caelith to get a whiff of.”

She could feel the weight of Torren’s eyes on her, but she didn’t meet his gaze for several moments. When she did finally meet his stare, there was a sly smile on his lips.

“As you wish,” he rumbled.

Cypress felt it all the way down to her toes.

Instead of asking if that applied toanything, Cypress plucked the invitation out of the trunk to look it over. She’d seen many of these in her time at Cade’s side.

From the description Cypress gave to Rhene before they left A’aravos Paravale, the artisans had done a remarkably good job at forging a duplicate. The stationery was the same, fine script announcing Cade’s twenty-seventh summer and celebration ball.

Cypress flipped the card over to read the invitation, which had been personalized for their fake names and the dress code's color scheme, and was met with what surely had to be a joke.