Page 46 of Fate
“Black?” the male tailor asked. Not to her. To Lucian.
Was this some custom she had never heard of before? She despised it already, if it was.
But she said nothing. Allowed them to tuck and pin and wonder at her frame, most particularly the set of her wings upon her shoulders and just how much room they would have to allow to accommodate them.
So much the better. There was nothing worse than clothes cutting too tightly into the base. Mussing feathers until they quirked out of alignment, aching and raw until she could bribe Eris into fixing them should their mother be too busy.
Firen had not worn black a day in her life. The dyes were common enough, which surprised her, as it seemed to be the favoured colour of lawmen.
The severity helped, she supposed. Commanded a sort of respect that paired well with glares and stony expressions.
She thought Lucian would look well in a deep blue instead. Or perhaps green...
Like the cloth from his bed. He looked... quite becoming with that about him.
Lucian gave her a look, and she was more than aware of how the bond had warmed at the turn of her thoughts.
She would wear it, if it would help. She couldn’t imagine how it might, other than they would look more like aproperpair.
Lucian circled as the others had done, and it felt different when it was him. Weightier. As her insides curled and tightened. Loosened. All depending on where he was positioned and how the set of his jaw ticked ever so slightly as he watched her. “You do not think it too harsh?”
Which was laughable, as his hair was paler even than hers. His skin, too, hidden away in his towers. He stepped nearer to her, his hand reaching out to touch her cheek ever so slightly. “Purple,” he declared, his thumb moving over the mark just once before he pulled his hand away entirely. “As deep as you have it.”
Not to match, then, as her markings were considerably lighter than that.
It shouldn’t fluster her. To be touched in view of others, to have him dress her. Not physically—although that would likely elicit some rather strong reactions if ever it occurred. But for him to declare his preference, to bring her somewhere he wasknown and state that his mate required attire for a rather important supper...
It was exciting. Thrilling, even. Tempering her trepidation, the lingering hurts.
Some had mended well enough under her parents’ care. The story Lucian offered them was not a deceit. It was simply... condensed. He removed the portions about Firen’s banned entry. Focused solely on seeing her. Meeting her. Of knowing it was her and feeling...
He could not settle on a word. Sorry, was what Firen privately thought he meant most, but he refused to give it.
“Captivated,” he finished at last.
While Mama continued to glance between the two of them. Seated across from one another, rather than beside. They did not touch, hands were clasped around cups rather than each other, and that was all right, wasn’t it? She’d held his hand as she brought him down. Allowed him to choose his seat, and hers was taken from sheer habit. It had always been hers.
Firen had blinked at him, wondering if he had trespassed into a lie—something she could not abide. Not for two of the people she held in the highest esteem. But he met her gaze and held it there, and she swallowed thickly.
“And yet you kept so calm,” she countered with a quirk of her brow and a smile that she hoped was teasing rather than imploring. She wanted it to be true. So badly. “A result of my profession. I am studying to become a lawmancer. Apprentice to my father.”
He did not grimace. Did nothing to suggest that the partnership would be over if this impending supper did little to change Oberon’s mind. There were others in the city, surely. Ones that would be pleased to teach Lucian and situate him in the halls without need of his father’s permission.
Ones that respected the bond more.
“A difficult position,” Da offered. “You are certain you would not prefer to learn how to tinker?” It was given in jest, but Lucian did not know that.
“At the moment, I am uncertain of anything. Only that... I have obligations. That I mean to fulfil, to the best of my abilities.” This he said to Firen. A promise. He would do right by her. Would try, for her.
Firen kept them from talk of lodging. Instead, she prattled about a supper she knew nothing about, of meeting family and she was nervous, as they had only met with his parents that morning.
If they thought it strange they received no invitation, they did not say.
“Certainly,” the female tailor acknowledged, already delving into the racks in search of something suitable. “If we had been given more notice, we would of course have made it to her exact specifications, however...” She pulled out two outfits, in styles Firen had never worn—nor seen before. They appeared... restrictive. Not the flowing layers she was used to, but dresses so fitted that she wondered if one would be able to walk. Fly, certainly, and she supposed there would be no risk of anyone seeing anything untoward, but she did not relish the thought of wearing either of them.
Her smile grew brittle. They were beautiful. The fabrics were fine. She should want to wear them. If it would please Lucian, would make him think her a worthy mate then...
Her pulse fluttered, and her stomach clenched, just to think it.