Nortan States. My new home and the old.
Pride for my sister swells in my chest. I run a finger over the soft velvet of the long purple jacket edged in gold. “I have a history with this color,” I mumble, remembering Mareena Titanos and the mask of a Silver house.
Gisa nods, her eyes darting between me and the clothes. “Well, it’s a good thing it suits you.”
My sister works quickly, helping me into the tailored velvet pants, boots, and high-collared shirt before slipping the jacket onto my arms. She tsks at the length of the sleeves, a bit too long for my frame, but otherwise finds no other flaw. Finally, she brushes out and braids my hair into a long plait that fades from brown to purple and gray.
When she licks her thumbs and smooths my eyebrows, I have to jump back.
“Okay, I think you’ve done all you can do, Gisa,” I tell her, putting a hand between us. Gisa isn’t as bad as what the Nortan court used to demand, but she isn’t pleasant either. Especially when I feel like I might vibrate out of my skin with nerves and fear.
She pouts, holding out a palette of colored powders. “No makeup?”
“Is Farley wearing any?” I sigh, crossing my arms in defense.
Gisa doesn’t miss a beat. “Does Farley need any?”
“No—” I start, remembering how pretty she is, until the implication hits me. “Hey!”
Gisa doesn’t flinch and simply points to the bedroom door. She must be eager to get me out of her hair. “Fine, get moving. You’re already late.”
“Well, I wouldn’t be if you allowed me to dress myself,” I snipe, darting around her.
She leers after me. “What kind of sister would I be if I let you face down an abdicated king looking like Stilts alley trash?”
With a hand on the doorknob, I feel a familiar tug in my stomach. “Our lives would be very different if he didn’t secretly like Stilts alley trash,” I shoot back without thinking.
But he didn’t say a word.
My face falls. Luckily Gisa misses it, too busy smothering her laughter.
In the sitting room, Farley jumps to her feet, one hand tugging her uniform into place. She still hates it, favoring body armor over tight collars.
“We’re late,” she clips, her first words to me since we went north. She’s written plenty of letters, but this is our first time seeing each other since we left. To my delight, her cold manner doesn’t reach her eyes, which crinkle with a hidden smile. “Or are you trying to skip out on what will prove to be a riveting and relaxing day?”
I cross to her in a few short strides and she stretches her arms out to embrace me. Her grip is firm and strong, a comfort as much as anything in this world. I lean into her a little, drawing resolve from her dogged strength.
“Is skipping an option?” I ask when I pull back, running my eyes over the young general. She looks the same as I remember, beautiful and fierce. Maybe even more determined than usual.
“I’m sure you could beg off if you wanted,” she replies, calling my bluff. “But I doubt you do.”
I flush. She’s right, of course. A wild bison couldn’t keep me from the delegation meetings.
Her hair is long enough now for a single braid that runs tight across her scalp, like a crown. It makes her look softer, but no less intimidating. As Gisa said, she doesn’t bother with makeup, nor does she need to. Diana Farley cuts a striking figure, on the battlefield and in my sitting room.
“No Clara today?” I ask, looking around her for my niece. My heart sinks a little when I see neither hide nor hair of the little girl.
“I would have carted her to the meetings, but I doubt even I’ll stay awake through them, let alone a baby. Besides, your parents would gut me if I didn’t hand her off. They took her down to the gardens after breakfast.”
“Good.” My body floods with warmth at the thought of my parents playing with Shade’s daughter. Leading her through the autumn trees, letting her rip up Carmadon’s meticulous flower beds.
“The Colonel is with them too, I think,” Farley adds, her voice quiet. But also firm. That is as much as she’s willing to say.
And it isn’t my place to push. Her relationship with her father is not my business until she wants it to be. He must be making a monumental effort, that much is clear, if