“I know you put a lot of work into this,” Moria said. “So I will refrain from pointing out that I look – and feel – like an overstuffed cushion.”
She watched Rametta narrow her eyes. The woman understood far too much of the common language.
Moria sighed again. “All right. Given that this is the customary attire for such an occasion, I look perfectly serviceable in it.”
“Serviceable?” The serving girl stared at Moria, her eyes round. “You are beautiful, my lady. Your hair shines like gold. Your eyes are like sapphires. And that gown? I have never even dreamed of something so…”
She couldn’t finish, her face filled with such longing that Moria felt a stab of shame. For a girl like this, such a gown wouldn’t be possible even on her wedding day. While Moria may have looked in the glass and seen an awkward girl stuffed into an equally awkward outfit, the girl saw a fantasy come to life.
“I’m sorry,” Moria said. “I’m in an ill temper today. Thank you very much for the compliments. It is a lovely gown. I am blessed to wear it.”
“But you should be blessed. You are the Keeper.” The girl moved behind her and fingered the silk before Rametta’s throat-clearing made her stop. “You look lovely, my lady. And on the arm of Lord Gavril…” She sighed. “He is so handsome. You are blessed to have him favor you.”
“He doesn’t favor me,” Moria said as gently as she could. “He’s escorting me because his father demands it.”
“But he is still escorting you, and he will see you in this gown and…”
As much as Moria tried to hide any reaction, she must have failed, because the girl looked alarmed.
“You don’t find him handsome, my lady?”
At one time, Moria would have readily admitted she’d not seen a young man more pleasing in face and form. But that young man had locked her in a dungeon. Deprived her of any comfort. Refused even to tell her if her bond-beast lived. There was no way she could look at Gavril now and find him handsome.
But when Moria said nothing, she felt the weight of not only the girl’s stare but Rametta’s. Refusing to flatter Gavril risked insulting the healer worse than refusing to enthuse over her new dress and makeup. She opened her mouth to lie, but nothing came out, and panic ignited in her gut.
Just say yes. It’s one word.
She could not. She absolutely could not.
Rametta chittered at the girl, waving her hands, telling her to be silent. The girl apologized, but Rametta chased her out of the room.
Moria looked in the glass again. She no longer saw an awkward girl in an awkward dress. She saw half a girl. No wildcat at her side. No twin sister either. The loneliness rose up and washed over her, and she wanted to cry. Fall to the floor in her silly dress and sob.
When she felt a hand stroking her hair, she saw Rametta beside her. She tried to straighten, to suck back her loneliness and despair, but the blasted dress seemed to drag her down – shoulders slumped, chin lowered, even her gaze barely able to reach up to the looking glass. Rametta stroked her hair and then pressed something into Moria’s hand. The figurine. Moria didn’t even need to look down – she knew it by touch. She wrapped her fingers around it, and she thought of Ashyn and of Daigo, and she made her decision.
She would not merely look about for a chance to escape tonight. She would make that chance. If she failed and Gavril cast her back into the dungeon, then that would be the risk she took for trying. Because she would try. She had to.
“This isn’t going to work,” Gavril said, pacing Moria’s cell. “It’s a preposterous plan and it will fail, and when it does, we’ll pay the price.”
He’d come in a few moments ago. Rametta had heard him approaching and made Moria stand in the middle of the room, where she’d be the first thing he’d see when he walked in. Then the old woman had waited beside the door, beaming like she was presenting a bridegroom with his bride. Gavril had stalked in, cursing and snarling, his gaze passing over Moria as if she were a piece of furniture… much to her relief. Anything else would have been unbearably awkward.
Rametta had not been nearly so pleased. As Gavril paced and fumed, she kept trying to draw his attention to Moria until, finally, she planted her tiny body in front of him, jabbed a finger at Moria, and admonished him in her native tongue.
Gavril cast a quick glance Moria’s way. “Yes, yes, I see. She’s all ready for the reception, which is a relief, considering that’s where I need to take her.”
Rametta waved at Moria, talking fast, her words laced with annoyance.
“All right. All right.” He turned to Moria. “I’m looking. I have no idea what I’m supposed to be looking at. All I see is the Keeper in face paint and a rather ridiculous dress.”
Moria bit her tongue to keep from laughing. Rametta looked ready to smack him. From the doorway, Brom stepped forward quickly, his face lighting with alarm.
“I don’t think it’s ridiculous at all.” Brom turned to Moria. “You look beautiful, my lady.”
“I’m sure you think so,” Gavril said dryly. “However, if you knew Moria, you’d know you did not need to jump in with compliments. She’s hardly insulted by the lack of them. Now, if we failed to notice her prowess with a blade, that would be another story.”
Brom cleared his throat. “It would still seem only polite, my lord. She does look beautiful.”