Page 29 of House of Ashes

Chapter

Six

Iheld my arms out obediently for the tailor, gazing wistfully at the plate of food across the room.

They would not permit me to eat during fittings, so I had been reduced to cramming as much food in my face as possible between them. Kirana’s tailor had altered several simple dresses and a basic, unadorned set of leathers to fit my thin body, and I heard occasional sighs and snorts of displeasure from somewhere around my waistline.

“We’re going to have to let this out in a week at the rate you’re eating.” The seamstress had a deep, raspy voice from years of smoking chokeroot.

She jabbed several pins around my waist, nipping and tugging at the garment with fastidious prickliness.

I ignored the general rudeness of the comment, all of my focus reserved for the flaky, apricot cream-stuffed rolls.

“That’s the general idea, Jenra.” Kirana sat in a chair, watching with a critical eye as the tailor fussed over my leggings. “This is simply so she doesn’t need to walk about the eyrie naked.”

Shortly after Rhylan had nearly caused my heart to burst, Nilsa had declared that I had places to be and things to do. She had apparently been appointed the lord and master of my daily schedule, herding me from place to place with a silent, still-somewhat-hostile efficiency.

Those places included going straight back into the bath, where I was attended upon by no less than three Bloodless maidservants all at once.

They made it clear that my luxurious soak of the morning had been the equivalent of rolling around in a mud puddle and calling it good. I was scrubbed down twice, once with crushed nut shells and the second time with handfuls of oily grit. My hair was combed out, a thick mask of ooze massaged into it, and coiled to perch on top of my head for an hour.

My thick, claw-like nails had been filed mercilessly. They were no longer jagged, dirt-encrusted talons, but evenly matched and buffed to a shine.

Then they’d rinsed the mask out of my hair and washed it with rose-scented soft soap, and gave my feet the same treatment as my hands, while gently scrubbing the grit over my chapped lips with a tiny brush.

Now I was clean, soft, and shining all over. The pale strands in my hair gleamed metallic silver, years’ worth of dead skin had been washed down the drain, and my scales had been oiled and were no longer cracking. Even I had to admit there was some improvement to that horrible draga reflected in the mirror.

For the first time, I could look at myself and almost see the Sera that used to be.

They’d given me just enough time to eat, and then I was whisked into an empty room adjoining mine, where the tailor, Jenra, had laid out what looked like a million bolts of cloth. I was posed in the middle of the room as the draga prowled around me.

Now Kirana stretched. She’d been sitting there for almost two hours while my dresses were fitted. “Once she’s filled out, we’ll have the secondary fittings. She and Rhylan must present a unified front; I think it's best if we play off their colors.”

“Ebony, obviously,” Jenra said, running her hand over a bolt of black velvet and eyeing me up and down. “And midnight blue as well, I would think, with that pale skin of hers.”

“Silver, of course.” Kirana got up, walking a circle around me. Her hair had been tied back in little braids, leaving the rest to fall in luxurious waves. “They’ll both need silver.”

I had ignored most of the conversation until now, but that word awakened the greedy draga in me. “I don’t want to borrow your jewelry. I have my own family vault in Varyamar.”

Which my poor, neglected Ascendant was likely sleeping on at this very moment.

All dragonbloods possessed the deep, intense desire for treasure, and there was no army between us and Varyamar. If I could just convince Rhylan to fly us there, I could ensure my Ascendant was well, and retrieve enough of the family hoard to not have to live entirely off the generosity of the Obsidian Flames.

Already the clothing and food expenses were making me nervous; I had to assume that at some point, payment would come due.

Kirana’s hazel eyes met mine, full of pity. “You’ll have to borrow for now, Sera. We can’t risk your health backsliding after a long flight. You’re not ready.”

I opened my mouth to protest, thinking of how dark and cold my eyrie’s halls must be, the loneliness my Ascendant had endured.

“No.” She almost snapped the word, bracing her hands on her hips. “As the eyrie healer, I am responsible for your care, and Rhylan will not forgive lightly if I allow you to push yourself beyond your limits. You just spent four years starving to death. You’re in no condition to fly to Varyamar yet.”

This wasn’t much of an improvement over the Kirana who was willing to accuse my family of murder. I didn’t want to accept that she was right—I desperately wanted to go home.

But hours of flight, locked with frozen tension on the back of a dragon I couldn’t communicate with, would undo what this single day’s work had begun.

Kirana’s tight lips softened. “I know you want to go home. I’m sorry. But we have days of practice ahead of us, and only so much time before the First Claim. You must look healthy and whole if anyone is to believe this.”

“Why are you going along with the plan, anyway?” I supposed after years of exile, I was rather nihilistic about anyone overhearing. The Obsidian Flame family seemed to trust their family servants implicitly, even though what we were doing was so far beyond the Law, it was unheard of. “You said you’d be damned before you watched Yura and Tidas take the throne. What did they do to you?”