45

“Reyna,” he said gruffly. “I heard what happened. You’re all right?”

“I’m all right,” I said, muffled into his chest. “Seriously, I’m okay.”

He pulled back and gripped my upper arms, examining me as if checking for wounds. “You’re sure? You were attacked by a wolf, Reyna, that’s no small event.”

“I’m aware of that,” I said. I sat back down at the table and scarfed down some of the sliced meats and cheeses the girls had prepared for me. “Things were a little complicated because of the weapon I used.”

“I’m glad you had it on you,” Barion said. “I knew I taught you to be prepared.”

“Well, I would’ve appreciated it if you’d told me everything about that blade,” I hissed, low. “I’d only intended to subdue her.”

Barion pressed his lips together in a thin line. “With a wolf like Rona, one of you would’ve ended up dead. I’m simply grateful it was her and not you.”

I sighed. I knew he was right—if I had injured Rona, she would’ve kept attacking me. Even though the king had intervened, she would’ve been punished by her pack for her insubordination. Most likely, the outcome would’ve been the same. That didn’t make me feel any better about it, though.

“I know they confiscated the knife,” Barion said. “Take this one.”

He pulled a small knife from his waistband and handed it hilt-first to me. It was simpler than the one he’d given me prior; this one was clearly from his own collection. The hilt was well-worn, and the blade was simple, sharp steel. No embellishments. Function only. I found I liked the weight of it in my hand much more than the fine one I’d had before.

I tossed it, flipping my grip to test the weight. “Is this one altered in any way I need to know about?” I asked with a pointed arch of my brow.

He huffed a laugh. “I wish it was,” he said. “That knife served you well. It kept you safe. Well—” he paused. “You kept yourself safe. The knife helped. Keep that one with you until this competition is over.”

I nodded. “I will.”

“Lady Reyna?” Amity said apologetically. “I hate to interrupt, but the tailor is on her way.”

Barion stood up briskly, then clapped his hand on my shoulder. His eyes were soft as he looked at me. “Stay alert. We’re in the final stages of this competition.”

“I will,” I said again. I couldn’t tell him I intended to lose—but I also intended to stay alive. For me, and for the future I wanted with Griffin. Griffin—in a sudden swoop, I missed him terribly. I wondered what he might’ve said, knowing I’d taken down Rona like that. He never liked my focus on sparring, but after this, maybe he’d understand why I trained so much. I was grateful to have another blade, in any case.

Barion left in a hurry, and just a few moments later, there was another brisk knock on the door. I stuffed the knife into my trunk, stood up, and had just swallowed a big bite of bread and cheese when Rue opened the door.

The woman on the other side of the threshold was so gorgeous, I nearly dropped the piece of cheese I was holding in hand. She was tall, with enormous brown eyes in her youthful face, and long, flowing hair so silver it was like it was spun from spider-silk. She wore a simple, pale blue gown, and carried with her a large box and a canvas bag swung over her shoulder.

“Good afternoon,” she said, in a voice smooth like expensive wine. “I’m Aerika, of Camille’s. I’ve brought your gown as discussed.”

Not discussed with me, certainly, but discussed with someone. This woman’s hair was so striking, and her aura so…magnetic. Was she Fae? Would I know if she was?

Aerika breezed in like she owned the place, then placed the box at the foot of the bed. “We’ve designed this gown off the traditional Daybreak formalwear,” she explained, “but updated for Efra’s climate and for the high formality of the ball. We can make any adjustments requested.”

She pulled the dress from the box; she was so tall she could hold it up easily without the hem brushing the floor. Again, I nearly gasped with shock. I hadn’t been exactly looking forward to this fitting—I was much more interested in the artifacts beneath the manor—but I couldn’t deny how stunningly beautiful this gown was. And how its familiar, elegant designs made my heart clench with sudden homesickness.

“You’ve captured Daybreak beautifully,” I murmured.

The gown was made of eggshell white fabric, sleeveless, with a scooped neck. The full skirt was layered, with the same eggshell fabric and pale blue tulle; when Aerika moved it in the air, it fluttered like waves. The corset was embroidered with tiny suns along the top, like the Daybreak crest, and in between them were tiny fish, each decorated with a single gleaming moonstone. The moonstones caught the firelight and glittered. She’d brought a cape too, made of a deeper blue fabric and embroidered with eggshell and pale blue fabric in the delicate shapes of waves.

“It’s stunning,” I added.

“Good,” Aerika said, sounding professionally pleased. “There are shoes and accessories too, of course, but those will be delivered tomorrow after we do any alterations. Please, try it on.”

Behind the dressing screen, Amity and Rue helped me into the gown. Despite the layered fabric, the dress felt light. Easy to wear. I felt beautiful in it—more beautiful than I ever had in the gowns I’d worn in Daybreak itself. It was a strange sensation. I was homesick for the warm seas of Daybreak, the sunshine, the crisp air, the familiar conversations of the market. But I’d never wear anything this attention-grabbing at home. My father wouldn’t allow it, and Griffin certainly wouldn’t, either.