Page 205 of Starside

Then the food is gone. I lift the cup to his lips. When it’s empty, I leave without another word.

I eat breakfast with Vander, who between bites tells me tidbits about this world, before heading off to whatever mysterious duties heirs attend to. The ball is in just two days. I spend all the daylight hours in the library, that night practicing the dancing steps, and then when everyone is asleep, I sneak food to Raker.

He isn’t sick anymore.

We don’t talk. Every time I get an urge to say something, to let him know what I’ve discovered, I stop myself. I can’t trust him. We are contingent partners, nothing more, nothing less, and if he knew my plans, I worry he might try to make alliances on his own sword, all by himself.

Maybe I don’t need him, I think, if I’m able to actually get oaths on my metal. Maybe this is where we part ways.

I ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach at the thought.

The next morning, just one day before the start of courting season, Vander stands from breakfast and says, “You’ll need a dress. Heartfall is full of dramatics.” That’s the name of the months-long courting ball, I’ve learned. He rolls his eyes. “A person’s clothing signifies their importance. You are human … already lowly. You’ll need to show your strength in your outfit.” He looks at my weapon, considering it. “One that will showcase your sword.”

I think about all the hideous dresses in the wardrobe. Those won’t do.

He seems to hear my thoughts and frowns. He sighs. “There’s a room.”

I raise a brow. “I’m listening.”

“A dress … can be made for you there.”

Does he have tailors? I nod happily. Then the rush of excitement dies when I think through exactly what that might entail. “I don’t … I don’t like anyone seeing me naked,” I say quickly. “I could take my own measurements.”

“That won’t be a problem,” he says.

Relief floods through me. “Okay. I’ll need something … that covers. Covers everything but my face.”

He looks like the last thing he wants to be talking about is a gown. “Also not a problem.”

He motions for me to follow.

The room Vander spoke of is small and rounded. It’s in one of the turrets of the castle. Besides large, open windows, with long, sheer drapes, it’s empty. But not completely.

There’s a magic to this room. A force. I can taste it on the tip of my tongue.

Vander frowns as he presses a hand against the stone. “A dress that covers everything but her face,” he tells the room. “In any color other than silver.” Of course. Silver is the color of the gods. “Don’t be too fussy.”

Then he turns and closes the door.

I blink, dumbfounded. Am I supposed to wait? Is something supposed to appear?

After moments of silence, I walk slowly to the center of the room, toward the drapes that curl gently in the wind. They reach out, tickling my ankles before they blow back toward the wall.

A whisper sounds close by, followed by more. It could be the breeze, but no … these are words. They have a rhythm. I listen as closely as I can, but I can’t make out anything specific. The tone changes, though. It sounds a little like an argument. Many voices, weaving together, until it melts into one single sound.

The wind blows harder. The curtains lift higher, brushing my arms. Smoothing against my skin.

Then, all at once, they violently uncurl, whipping toward me with a crack. I gasp and stumble away, but they wrap around me like arms, tightening, until all I see is fabric. The whispers have returned, and they’re louder now. Many voices, locked in a debate. I don’t breathe, trying to listen, but I gasp as something tightens around my waist. Then fabric is torn. I feel the breeze upon my bare skin for just a moment, before it’s erased, and the curtain become a flurry again, ballooning around me.

Then the drapes settle, and the room goes quiet.

I blink, not knowing whether to thank the room or cut its curtains with my sword. But then I look down and decide on the former.

I’m wearing the most stunning gown I’ve ever seen. It’s deep blue, with delicate white stitching, a tight bodice, a high collar, and a silky-smooth skirt that just barely kisses the floor. I admire myself in the reflection of the partially open window, blinking, questioning if this can even be real. If I could even look like this.

I’ve never—I’ve never felt beautiful until now.

The door opens, and I see Vander leaning against the doorframe. He nods. “That will do.”